Harriet Potter Year 2: The Dreams of Yesterday
"The distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion."
~Albert Einstein
Harriet Potter, Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts- January 9, 1993
It took almost a week after break had ended for Harriet to find the time to talk to Ron and Hermione about everything she had learned over break. The teachers had bogged them down with work the moment they arrived and Wood had upped the number of Quidditch practices in lieu of the upcoming redo game with Slytherin.
Not that Harriet minded.
She had her new Firebolt.
The reaction upon seeing that Harriet had a Firebolt was great. She had shown it to Ron the moment she had arrived, taking it up to the boy's dorm to show him. Fred and George had been there, too, and had begged for a ride as soon as they had a chance. Then they dashed off to tell Wood, who, Harriet was convinced, would have gotten down on his hands and knees and bowed to the broom if there hadn't ready been so many boys surrounding the broom already.
Wood had been convinced (and so had the rest of the team) that they would be unbeatable with the Firebolt, but only if they kept it quiet. He should have known better to think that secrets could actually stay secret in Hogwarts.
By the end of the day, the entire school knew, including Malfoy ("Firebolt or not, Potter, you won't be winning this match, I assure you."), Professor McGonagall ("The Slytherin team won't know what hit them; Oh, Severus's face!"), and Snape ("Brilliant- A faster, more expensive way to get yourself killed. Your godfather shows his love in mysterious ways.").
The broom, having made Oliver more excited about the game, had prompted Wood to increase the number and duration of Quidditch Practice and Harriet, so exhausted by the end of the day, would often barely have energy to do her work before falling into bed.
...let alone talk to Hermione and Ron about the family tree she had seen in the library.
Finally, on a day that was too rainy even for Wood to have practice, Harriet found the time to sit down in the Common Room with her friends.
"It seems like we haven't seen you in ages," Hermione said, looking up from her Potions book.
Ron had been flipping through his (or, rather, Harriet's old one) as well, and snorted. "Understatement."
"Wood's been going mad with all this practice," Harriet sighed. "We have that rematch against Slytherin- finally."
"I don't know why he's so worried," Ron said with a roll of his eyes. "You have a Firebolt."
Harriet grinned at the mention of her broom. "I know. Malfoy seems pretty confident though."
"He's an idiot," Hermione said succinctly.
"I don't know, though," Harriet frowned. Ron frowned too.
"What? You think he's got something planned?"
Harriet shrugged. "Beats me. I mean, not even he would try something in front of the whole school. And he's playing, too, besides."
"We'll keep an eye on him anyways," Hermione assured.
"Thanks," Harriet said with a sigh. She leaned backwards against the armchair behind her. For a moment the three of them sat in silence- Ron and Hermione studying, Harriet closing her eyes and getting some rest.
Harriet, not opening her eyes, finally said, "I got a look at my family tree in the library."
Harriet heard Hermione straighten in excitement. "You did?
"Don't look so excited," Harriet sighed. "I didn't find anything. The tree didn't go that far back, and it was the most detailed one I could find."
Hermione sighed. "Shame."
"Not like it matters," Hermione assured, worried that her words could be taken the wrong way. "Even if you are related to Slytherin, it doesn't make a difference about who you are."
"That's right," Ron nodded, but Harriet could tell that he wasn't paying attention. He was too busy scribbling in his -her- book.
"You still haven't found your Potions book, yet?"
Ron looked apologetic. "No, sorry mate. I don't know what happened. It was in my bag at the shop at Flourish and Blotts, and, after we payed for it all, I dumped everything from the bag in my luggage as soon as we got home. But when I got to Hogwarts and went to unpack, it just wasn't there. I don't get it."
"No worries," Harriet waved his apologies away. "Snape gave me one of the old Potions books."
Harriet reached into her bag and pulled it out. Hermione, seeing it close up for the first time, narrowed her eyes.
"That's the Potions book used by the sixth and seventh years!" She said accusingly. "Snape gave you that?"
"He said as long as he didn't catch me brewing anything that wasn't part of the curriculum, I should be able to manage," Harriet shrugged. Truth be told, the book was fantastic. She had no trouble understanding it thanks to all the time she spent brewing with Snape from his own notes. Although Snape was very detailed and careful, his methods could be unorthodox and very advanced, which made it difficult for Harriet sometimes. The text was much more clear.
Not to mention the Prince's notes.
Seeing Hermione's suspicious look, Harriet added, "It's not too bad, but it's a bit tricky. Snape probably wanted to see me get confused and fail."
"Sounds like him," Ron agreed. Hermione wasn't as satisfied. She eyed the book a bit hungrily.
"Would you like to switch with me?" she offered. "I can give you my book and I'll take that one. I'm sure I'll have no problems understanding-"
Harriet's eyebrows shot up. She knew Hermione hadn't meant it as in insult, but Harriet couldn't help but take it as a slight on her Potions abilities, which were fine, thank you very much. Truth be told, the only reason she floundered so much in Snape's class was because she got too easily distracted joking around with Ron who often used the cauldron next to her (sharing with either Seamus or Hermione) or helping Neville (who she usually partnered with). On her own, with Snape, she did just fine.
"Probably best not to," Harriet pointed out. "We don't want to get Snape angry."
There. A perfectly logical explanation.
"Well, he doesn't have to know," Hermione pointed out sensibly.
"It's fine, Hermione," Harriet said hotly. "Just drop it."
"I'm only trying to help you, Harriet," Hermione scowled.
Harriet glared at her. "By telling me that I'm stupid?"
"I didn't say that!" Hermione argued. "I just meant that you're-"
"Not as smart as you," Harriet finished. Hermione narrowed her eyes and sat up straighter.
"Well, you aren't!"
Harriet stood straight up, flushing indignantly. She ignored the silence that had fallen over the Common Room. Indeed, nobody said a word. It was so rare to see a fight break out among the three friends (save for the small squabbles between Ron and Hermione, of course). All eyes were on Harriet as she stormed out of the room.
Poor Ron was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He could either stay with Hermione or go after Harriet. Glancing at Hermione's fuming expression, he decided to stick with her. It was the safer option. Harriet would be more understanding that Hermione would if Ron had gone after Harriet.
Harriet didn't pay attention to where she was going. She was walking past some abandoned classrooms when she heard it.
A sniffle.
She bit her lip and was silent.
There it was again! Coming from a cupboard.
Tip-toeing to the door, Harriet eased it open and peaked inside the cupboard. Sitting on a rusty pail was Neville, looking incredibly miserable. He looked up at her, surprised.
"Ah," she said, "Hello."
She stepped into the closet, the door shutting behind her.
"No!" Neville cried, but it was too late. Harriet frowned and looked at him, confused.
"What?"
"There's a charm on the door," Neville grumbled. "So that the door can't be opened from the inside. I've been here since classes ended for the day."
"Well, that's stupid," Harriet frowned. "Why bother making the door un-openable from the inside if somebody from the outside can just open it?"
"Malfoy and his friends stuck me in here," Neville huffed. Harriet nodded, understanding. "They're the ones that put the charm on it."
"Can't you unlock it with magic? I don't think the Professors would mind."
"Filch must've charmed it or had one of the professors make it so that magic won't work on the locks. Magic doesn't work here at all, actually. Probably so nobody can steal his stuff. Malfoy and his friends really knew what they were doing- they charmed the walls around the closet, not the closet itself."
Harriet nodded sympathetically. It was already well past dinner, almost curfew. "You must be starving."
"Yea," he admitted.
Harriet pulled out a few roles of bread that she had stuffed with meat. She handed them to Neville. He looked at her in surprise and she shrugged.
"I always save a bit of food from dinner. It's pointless since I usually end up throwing it out, but that's what I used to do at the Dursley's whenever they fed me, since I'd go a long time without food, and I never lost the habit."
"I'm not complaining," Neville said gratefully, biting hastily into the small sandwiches. He had taken a few bites, then looked up. He offered her one of them.
"Sorry, I forgot to ask. Would you like one?"
"No thanks," Harriet said simply. "I ate already at dinner. I'm stuffed. You enjoy that."
He did. As he chewed rather noisily, he eyed Harriet out of the corner of his eye.
"I'm glad you're here, you know. I mean, not that I'd want anybody getting stuck with me- or getting stuck at all or anything- but I was getting really lonely. And it's dark in here."
Harriet looked the doorknob curiously. Barely registering Neville's words, she said, "Oh, I don't mind. It reminds me of my cupboard."
"Your what?" Neville asked, confused.
Harriet sighed and sat back down. She probably would have been able to pick the lock, but not without some sort of light.
She answered Neville's question.
"Back when I lived with the Dursleys, before I knew my parents were alive, they used to keep me in a cupboard. That was my bedroom. They'd lock me in there when they were angry or didn't want to deal with me. This is just like it, but without the spiders."
"They didn't treat you very nicely, did they?"
"No," Harriet said after a moment. "I don't suppose they did. They were awful, in all honesty. It's weird, though. I feel like I should hate them, and, while I definitely don't like, really what I do is feel bad for them."
"You're just nice like that," Neville said. He blushed, realizing what he had said, but Harriet thankfully didn't notice in the dim light of the closet.
"You're nice, too" Harriet laughed. Neville smiled a bit. He had always felt comfortable around Harriet, and she, him.
"It must have been hard to believe," Neville said, wiping his hands of breadcrumbs. "When you're parents came to get you, I mean."
Harriet snorted. "You have no idea. One minute, I'm cooking breakfast for the Dursleys, then I'm being taken to Hogwarts by my dead parents."
"Sometimes I wish my parents would do that," Neville sighed wistfully. That's when Harriet remembered that Neville lived with his grandmother.
"I'm sure they're watching over you," Harriet offered. Neville looked at her like she was mad.
"My parents aren't dead."
Harriet was confused. "But you live with your grandmother, don't you?"
"Yea," Neville agreed. He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "My parents fought during the war. They were part of some secret organization. I don't know much about it. My grandmother doesn't like to talk about it."
"My parents don't like to talk about the war, either," Harriet admitted.
"One day, towards the end of the war, not too long after I was born, they were tortured by Death Eaters. I don't know what spell the Death Eaters used, but they went mad, my parents did. They're at St. Mungo's, now. My mum and dad aren't dead," Neville repeated, "but sometimes I think it might be better if they were."
"Neville-" Harriet protested.
"They don't remember me!" He argued, looking more animated than Harriet had ever seen him. "They can't do anything but lay about and say meaningless things and eat and sleep and it's not fair! I love them and it hurts to see them like that!"
He took a deep breath and Harriet shifted uncomfortably. Speaking more quietly, he said, "My grandmother tells me stories sometimes. About the stuff my parents did. And now they just-"
"They were so brave," Neville said abruptly. "They were so brave and I try to be, but I'm not. I'm not like them or your parents or even you or Ron or Hermione, Harriet. I don't know why the Hat put me in Gryffindor. My grandmother doesn't either. She tells me that every time I see her."
Harriet swallowed. She knew Neville's grandmother loved him, but she had met the woman and seen how harsh she could sometimes be. Harriet wondered whether or not she knew what she was doing to her grandson.
"You're wrong, Neville," Harriet said finally. Neville looked up at her. She pretended not to notice the tear tracks on his face. "I think you're brave."
"I do!" She argued. "Last year, during the whole dragon thing, you came looking for me and Hermione! That was brave, too! And you lied. To Wizengamot. Not many people could do that. And you keep going, Neville, even with your parents not remembering and your grandmother pressuring you. I know how hard that is: I went through ten years with the Dursleys, but at least the Dursleys didn't care about me and would leave me alone. You don't get that, but you're still nice and kind and love Herbology even though your grandmother thinks it's silly and I think that's bravery!"
"I don't feel brave," Neville muttered. "During all of that, I never felt brave. I was always afraid. Afraid of being caught, afraid of my parents dying, -or living, I don't know what I want anymore- disappointing them, not making my grandmother proud."
"But you do it anyways," Harriet said firmly. "I get scared, too, you know. Scared that I'll disappoint my parents, that they'll send me back to the Dursleys-"
Neville snorted and she smiled a bit.
"I know, ridiculous. But I am! I'm scared of Volde- You-Know-Who coming back, and scared that I'm a parselmouth and should've been in Slytherin and that I'm gonna turn out like him. I was scared when I faced Quirrell, when I drove the car to Hogwarts, and when I partner with you in Potions," she teased.
Neville laughed.
"But that's okay," Harriet said after a moment. "I think it's okay to be scared. I think it might be good. It tells you when something is wrong. And it lets you be brave, because you can't be brave without being afraid, I think. I think courage is knowing that there're more important things than fear. Like family and friendship and loyalty and love. And I know that you know that, which is why I think the Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor."
"So don't you dare listen to your grandmother, Neville, or your other relatives," Harriet said fiercely. "You're a Gryffindor and you're very brave. You might be one of the bravest people I know."
"Thanks," Neville said finally. He wrung his hands. "Don't- Don't tell anybody about my parents, yea? I mean, I'm not ashamed or anything, but I don't want their pity."
Harriet understood that better than most and agreed without even thinking about it. "Of course. I won't tell a soul. Not even Ron and Hermione."
Neville smiled, knowing that that meant a lot. Harriet said, "And Neville?"
"Yea?"
"I'm sorry, about your parents, I mean," she said.
Neville never knew what to do when people apologized to him for that, especially since it was something that people just said when they felt they had to say something. Harriet, though, she understood his position better than anybody.
"Thanks," he told her again.
The two sat in silence for a few minutes until Harriet said, "So, how do we get out of here?"
Neville shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."
Harriet frowned and went to ask if he had some sort of light that she could use to try and pick the lock when she heard it.
Rip. Tear. KILL!
"Did you hear that?" she demanded. The voice seemed to coming from the wall.
Blood...
"Hear what?" Neville asked blankly, still sitting glumly on his bucket. Harriet, on the other hand, had placed her hands on the wall and then, hesitating slightly, pressed her ear against.
"The voice!" Harriet said hastily. When Neville went to say something, she shushed him and pulled him over to the wall with her. "Listen."
He did, pressing his ear to the wall, too. For a moment, neither one of them heard anything. Then, Harriet heard it again.
I smell blood. Warm blood...
But this time, it was followed by an odd rasping sound, as if something- something alive was moving. It was getting louder. Moving towards them.
"Oh, god," Neville muttered, taking a step backwards. Whatever was in the wall was big, if the noise it was making was any indication. Harriet's hands shook as she continued to brace herself against the wall.
"Who are you?" she demanded. "What are you?"
"Shush, Harriet," Neville asked, eyes wide. "Don't tell it where we are!"
Harriet ignored him. Firmly, she asked ,"What do you want?"
"Harriet Potter..."
Harriet jerked backwards, eyes wide. Neville, who had been clawing desperately at the door, looked at her. "What?"
Harriet didn't respond, but walked back to the wall. "How do you know who I am? Who told you my name?"
I want Harriet Potter. I want her blood and it is warm and I can smell it! Rip, tear, KILL HARRIET POTTER!
This time, when Harriet stepped away from the wall, she didn't go back. She almost tripped over the bucket in her haste to get to the door. She shoved Neville out of the way and pulled frantically at the doorknob. "It won't open!"
"Of course it won't," Neville said. "It's locked!"
"Sh," Harriet shushed. Whatever was moving in the walls had moved even closer. They stood quietly, not even breathing, back as far against the door as they could. Harriet's mind was racing.
She and Neville couldn't get out, but they couldn't say like this forever (obviously, they had to breathe at some point). Still, the odds of anybody finding them, when they weren't making noise, and after curfew, were astronomical. But if they were heard...
More movement behind the wall made Harriet's decision for her.
Harriet took a deep breath. "Neville?"
"Yea?"
"Remember what I said about being brave?" Harriet asked. "That you have to act even if you're scared?"
"Sure," Neville said, shaking a bit.
"I need you to be brave now," Harriet said.
Neville looked hesitant, but nodded. "Why?"
"Because I'm going to do this," Harriet said, taking a lungful of air. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! GET US OUT!"
At first, Harriet was worried that Neville was going to stop her, but then he seemed to hesitate. After a moment, he joined Harriet, banging as loudly as he could on the door. Even that didn't seem as loud as the pounding of Harriet's heart in her chest.
The door was suddenly wretched open and Harriet and Neville tumbled out, both landing flat on their faces on the floor in front of them. Harriet scrambled up immediately and was faced with her mother and Snape, who were both looking at her with an expression of disbelief.
"Harriet?" her mother asked, obviously incredibly confused. Neville, who at this point pulled himself up off of the floor, was clutching at her legs, burying his face into her robes.
Harriet didn't say anything to her mother. She was straining her ears for the voice again, but whatever it had been, it was gone. She took a shuddering breath, ignoring the way her hands shook.
"It's gone," she told herself firmly. "Whatever it is is gone."
"What's gone?" Harriet's mother asked, stroking Neville's hair.
"The- the voice," Harriet said, voice shaking as she remembered. "In the walls- it was- in the walls. I'm not crazy! It was there! Neville it heard it, too!" Harriet added fiercely.
Lily looked down at Neville, who nodded slowly. "I heard something moving behind the walls," he sniffed. "I didn't hear a voice, but if Harriet says she did, I believe her."
"Of course she heard the voice," Lily said simply, not even thinking to doubt her daughter. Lily had never seen her daughter so terrified; if Harriet said there was a voice, there was.
"What exactly were you doing in a closet, Potter?" Snape sneered.
Harriet blinked and frowned, surprised at him. Then she remembered Neville was next to them and realized that this was Snape's only way of showing concern in public.
"Malfoy locked Neville in there earlier," Harriet said firmly, just daring Snape to try and let Malfoy off the hook for that one- especially with Harriet's mum near him, currently kneeling down and trying to console poor Neville. "I was walking by when I heard him and I accidentally locked myself inside."
"And the voice?" Snape demanded.
Harriet opened and closed her mouth like a fish a few times, not really sure what to say. "I mean- Neville and I were just talking and then I heard this voice coming from the walls. There was something moving- it was moving towards us and talking and when I talked back it answered me."
"What you say to it?"
"I asked it what it wanted," Harriet said.
"And what did it say?" Snape asked determinedly.
"Me," Harriet said softly. "It wanted me. Dead."
Harriet Potter, Hogwarts- February 14, 1993
Upon her proclamation, Snape had gone immediately to see Dumbledore. The Headmaster didn't think she was crazy, apparently, and nor did he fault her from keeping the information from him. Instead, new safety measures were to put into place. When Harriet told Remus that she felt bad for all of the fuss, Remus assured her that it was for the safety of the other students as well.
If there was something within the walls of Hogwarts, she probably wasn't the only one in danger. And the teachers were assuming that something was there. They had checked and checked and triple checked, but there was nothing to be found.
Still, students were not allowed to wander the halls. They had to go straight from one class to another, no detours. The teachers had yet to assign chaperones, but Harriet assumed that it would only be a matter of time.
Thankfully, the other students simply assumed that the stricter measures were a result of the previous attacks on Colin and Justin and Nick, which meant that Harriet and Neville were spared anymore rumors.
That didn't mean that Harriet had been forgotten; most of the school still believed that she was the Heir of Slytherin, which was quite annoying. She began to avoid spending time with Isaura in public and instead spent time with her in the girl's dorm or at Hagrid's.
One person who still wasn't talking to Harriet was Hermione, who was still angry with her. Harriet had a feeling if she just apologized to Hermione (for what, she didn't know), Hermione would get over it, but Harriet's pride meant that she refused to apologize for something she didn't do. Harriet and Hermione did their best to pretend that they didn't miss each other, but Ron, who was still caught between both girls, knew that they did. He had tried his hardest to get them to apologize to each other, but, even after a month, it had come to nothing.
"Just apologize," Ron muttered as he sat down next to her at breakfast. Harriet shook her head and, upon seeing Hermione coming, stood up abruptly and went to sit further down, closer to Neville, who smiled at her.
Ron rolled his eyes.
Women.
The mood at breakfast that day was a bit more somber, as it had been these past few weeks, so Harriet was surprised when Lockhart cleared his throat. When all eyes were on him, he stood up and smiled.
"I have an announcement I'd like to make," Lockhart grinned toothily.
Harriet and Neville exchanged glances. Out of the corner of her eye, Harriet saw Hermione (and about every other girl) sit up straighter.
"Because of the glum mood that has settled over Hogwarts, I have proposed a little treat to cheer you all up," Lockhart said. "And since none of the Professor's protested..."
"Notice how he said nobody agreed, either," Harriet muttered. Neville smirked, which quickly turned into an expression of confusion as a group of dwarves marched into the Great Hall. They all wore golden wings and surly expressions.
"This is not going to end well," Neville said, looking away as one of the dwarves glared at him.
He was right.
Lockhart's brilliant idea turned out to be as ridiculous as it was embarrassing: the dwarves, dressed as cupid, went around the school all day and delivered Valentine's messages. They interrupted class on numerous occasions, cornered students in public places, and were ultimately a nuisance
The one upside to the whole thing was when one of the dwarves, in the middle of History of Magic, cornered Professor Lupin and, in front of the entire class, sang him a song from one of his students.
"I see him everyday in history,
but to him my feelings are a mystery.
He's my favorite teacher,
and I adore his every feature.
I try to pay attention in his class,
but all I can really do is stare at his a-"
"Okay!" Lupin had said, quickly turning bright red.
Ignoring the snickers of the students, he ushered the now, thoroughly annoyed dwarf out of the classroom. He endured the laughter and teasing of his students for the rest of the day, but he made sure to shoot a Harriet a look that clearly meant, "Sirius and your father don't have to hear about this, do they?"
Yes, they did. Harriet couldn't wait to tell them.
Harriet and Ron (Hermione was walking stiffly on his other side, neither she or Harriet making eye contact) were joking about Remus's embarrassment when it happened.
"Oi! Oi, you! Potter!" A little dwarf was making it's way through the crowd. Harriet's eyes widened. She grabbed Ron's hand and tried to pull him away, but he refused. He was loving this. Harriet glared at him, promising her revenge.
"Right, Potter," the dwarf said. "I've got a message for you, so shut up and listen."
Harriet shook her head. "No, no, no. Not here. Find me later. A lot later. A few decades, perhaps. How's my funeral sound?"
"I have to give it to you now," the dwarf said firmly. "It's a song, so I have to sing it."
Harriet didn't need to hear the song to know that it would not end well. Knowing that using magic in the halls would get her detention, but not caring, Harriet subtly pulled out her wand. Well, she tried to be subtle, but her wand caught on the strap of her bag and the entire thing went tumbling to the floor. Harriet winced from the loud clatter of books and ink while the dwarf completed some vocal exercises and finished clearing his throat.
Just as he opened his mouth to belt out the first line, Harriet whispered, Muffliato.
She had never used the spell before, but it became immediately obvious that it had the desired effect. Students stopped and looked around oddly. Some of them stuck their fingers in their ears.
Ron and Hermione both looked at Harriet suspiciously. She ignored them and stared at the dwarf, who, despite the noise that was probably bothering him, continued to sing- he was either determined to do his job or very hard of hearing.
Her eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
Her hair is as dark as a blackboard,
I wish she was mine,
She's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.
Harriet was blushing bright red by the time it was over, despite the fact that nobody seemed to have heard. As the dwarf scuttled off, Hermione hissed, "What did you do?"
"Oh, so now you're talking to me?" Harriet demanded. She crouched down and began to put books in her bag. She grimaced as she picked one of them up. The pages were covered in ink. Hopefully Uncle Moony or Uncle Severus would know a way to clean them.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Only because using magic in the halls is likely to get you expelled."
Harriet shifted uncomfortably as she stood up and clasped her bag, and Ron jumped to her defense. "Oh, you heard that thing! Which would be worse? Expulsion or dying of embarrassment?"
"Fine," Hermione said. Then, taking a jab at Harriet, snapped, "If you're so smart, Harriet, then maybe you could figure out how to undo the charm!"
Harriet frowned. She hadn't really thought of that. If she was lucky, a simple finite incantantem would do it, but maybe not. Some charms were safeguarded against it. However, before she could do anything, the Charm seemed to have stopped. Students shrugged- it wasn't the most bizarre thing to happen at Hogwarts, after all- and carried on.
Harriet turned to Hermione, "Apparently, it wore off."
Hermione smirked and looked over Harriet's shoulder. "Or McGonagall undid it."
Harriet's eyes widened as she slowly turned around. Sure enough, McGonagall was standing over her, arms crossed and lips pursed.
"Ah," Harriet said weakly. "Hello."
"Miss Potter," she said sharply, "Surely you know our rules on magic in the halls."
"Yes, ma'am," Harriet said glumly.
McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Out of plain curiosity, before I decide what exactly your punishment will be, what spell did you use? I am not familiar with it."
Harriet stuttered incomprehensibly. "I- I'm not- Ah-"
"Accidental magic?" McGonagall said, surprised. "It usually stops once students arrive at Hogwarts. Well, I suppose it is you, Potter, so it should be no surprise that your Magical Core is still settling, considering your background."
Harriet's nose wrinkled in confusion, but McGonagall shook her head, obviously thinking that she had said too much.
"Nevertheless, I think detention with Mr. Lupin tonight would be an appropriate punishment, don't you?"
Harriet sighed.
Remus was not going to be happy about this.
Harriet Potter, Detention with Remus- February 14, 1993
Harriet walked hesitantly to the classroom door and knocked on it, sticking her head inside. Remus, standing over something at his desk, looked up and, seeing it was her, beckoned her in with his finger.
"I didn't think I'd be seeing you here again so soon, Harriet," Remus sighed. "That's what? The third detention this year? And it's barely half over."
"Sorry, Uncle Moony," Harriet said sheepishly, sitting down. He shook his head and shut the book he was looking at.
"Don't apologize," he tutted. "Get out some parchment and a quill: you'll be writing lines today. One-hundred times of I shall not use magic in the halls should cut it."
"Yes, sir," Harriet said opening her bag. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of all her black books. Remus, noticing, walked over to her desk and took a look.
"My, my," he said with a chuckle. "What happened?"
"I dropped my bag trying to get away from a dwarf," Harriet admitted.
Remus smirked, satisfied. "Not so funny when it's happening to you, is it?"
Harriet glared at him.
"Finish your lines," he said firmly, conjuring some parchment for her, and a quill. "Then I'll see what I can do."
About two hours later (and an impromptu Patronus lesson, where Harriet did most of the magic, since Remus was tired, and did it rather well, too, although her Patronus had yet to take on a real shape), she and Remus were looking through her books.
His smile not diminishing, Remus had reached for the bag. "Let's see what we have in here."
Harriet helped him pull out her books, checking each of them over for damage. Remus reassured her, as the pile of damaged books grew, that he would be able to fix them for her. Harriet had resigned herself to the fact that all of her books had been damaged.
Then she came to the diary.
She frowned and turned it over, then flipped through the pages. It was absolutely pristine. It was clean as the day she and Hermione and Ron had found it in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. If anything, it was cleaner, considering that it hadn't been laying on a dirty bathroom floor for several days.
"Look," Harriet said, showing the diary to Remus. He frowned and took it.
"Well, that's very odd," he murmured. "Where did you get this ratty thing?"
"Hermione, Ron, and I found it in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. We tried to find out if it belongs to somebody at the school, but I think it's old, since I've never heard of the owner before. His name is Tom Riddle. Do you know him?"
Remus paled tremendously and Harriet's eyes widened anxiously. "Uncle Moony? Do you know who he is? Was he a friend of yours?"
"No," her uncle said vehemently. "He was certainly no friend of mine- or yours, for that matter. You should have brought this to me sooner. Why didn't you bring this to me sooner?"
Harriet had never seen Remus so worked up, so she was quick to answer. "I didn't think it was important. It's just a diary."
"Just a-" Remus said weakly. He shook his head and headed for the door. "I think this might be a bit more than a diary, Prongslette. I need to get this to Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore isn't here, remember?" Harriet said hesitantly. "He's off at the Ministry of Magic trying to get Fudge to repeal the Dementors."
Remus cursed and Harriet's eyebrows shot up. While Sirius and, on rarer occasions, her father had sometimes let swear words slip in Harriet's presence, Remus had never. Harriet wondered if he was incredibly stressed because of the approaching full moon. Although still early in the month, there was as a matter of fact, a blue moon approaching (two full moons in a month).
Combined with the stress of the attacks, it was no wonder he was so tired.
Remus came back to his desk. "Right. Dumbledore won't be back until tomorrow night. I'll put this in here in the meantime."
Remus locked the diary firmly in his desk and looked up at her firmly. "Under no circumstances are you to come and get this diary- understood?"
Harriet nodded, baffled. Remus sighed. "I'm sorry, Prongslette. I know this must be very confusing, but this is incredibly important and I just need you to trust me and be patient. Can you do that?"
Harriet nodded and Remus smiled at her. "Good. Now, what do you say to some hot cocoa before bed, hm?"
As Remus lead Harriet out the classroom door, locking it behind him, and towards his room, they both failed to notice the little grey rat hiding in the shadows.
AN: Alright, here it is! Chapter 23, in honor of Harriet Potter's one year anniversary! Can you believe it? I'm really, really, grateful for all of the reviews and favorites and subscriptions and advice and interest and pure, plain old, love that this story has gotten :) Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Okay. I'll stop now
Thank you.
Now I'll stop, because I have a quick note about this chapter- It didn't turn out at all the way I had imagined, but in the best possible way! The fight with Hermione, the scene with Neville, Remus's telegram... ; ) They all just seemed to write themselves and I hope you like them
As always, enjoy!
tinyrose65