xl. on your way to greatness

Harriet felt as if she'd only just arrived at Hogwarts when summer descended upon them and it was time to depart.

Items were gathered and trunks were packed, final minute squabbles had, books Summoned through the air by forgetful students as familiars crawled about underfoot. Marks were distributed and no one was at all surprised to learn Hermione was top of their year overall. Elara had scored marginally better on their final Transfiguration exam, much to Hermione's frustration, and Neville Longbottom had earned top marks in Herbology.

To Harriet's absolute shock, she took first in Defense with what Hermione considered a wide margin between her and Longbottom in second. All subjects cumulated, Harriet ranked eleventh in her year, and she had never felt as proud of herself as she did when blinking dumbfounded at the listings posted in the common room. Attending primary with Dudley had meant having her homework stolen or handed in late, and as such Harriet had never taken much interest in learning—but here, at Hogwarts, with a world of magic at her fingertips, Harriet found she enjoyed studying, enjoyed classes and picking up new spells, listening to Hermione squeeze all sorts of information into her skull while Elara did her best to tutor her in Transfiguration.

She was grateful her friends were such bloody geniuses and hoped some of their intelligence rubbed off on her.

Professor Snape called Harriet into his office on the last day of term. She expected a detention or another punishment. Was summer detention a thing? Harriet had had enough of that at the Dursleys', thank you very much. She slunk into the cramped space wearing a pinched expression. Snape saw it immediately and scoffed.

"Don't look at me like that, Potter. Sit."

She tried to control her face as she sat and ended up looking mildly ill.

Unamused, Snape strode behind his desk and unlocked one of the drawers with a tap of his wand, extracting a familiar bundle of silvery fabric. Harriet forgot her frustration and instead gaped. The professor held the cloak out and, when Harriet reached for it, he jerked his hand back, ensuring he had her attention.

"You will use it only in emergencies, girl," he said, pronouncing every word like a pebble being pinged off Harriet's forehead. "It is not a bloody toy. You will not abuse the privilege. You will not use it to gallivant about the school after hours or cause mischief with your cohorts. If I find that you have, I will take it back—and don't think that I can't or won't."

Despite the snarl in his voice, Harriet was as pleased as Punch. She'd been convinced Snape would never return the cloak, that he'd forgotten about it entirely or had simply thrown it out in a fit of pique or carelessness. He poured the cold cloth into Harriet's open hands and when she grinned, he blinked as if startled, looking at Harriet as if he'd never really seen her before. She doubted Snape ever had students smile at him, and though Harriet thought the wizard spent far too much time being a miserable git, he had been the first one through the door after what happened in the Headmaster's office. Harriet wouldn't forget that.

"Thank you, Professor Snape!"

He grunted and returned to his chair behind the desk, straightening the cuffs of his sleeves and staring resolutely at the far wall. "Remember what I said. Get out, Potter."

Harriet did as told, though she also hung back just long enough to yell "Have a good hols, Professor Snape!" as the door swung shut and she ran before he could change his mind about that detention.

At the Leaving Feast, Slytherin colors decked the Great Hall and Professor Dumbledore stood up, waiting for silence to fall across the chattering students so he could be heard. "Ah, another year gone! And I hope it has been an excellent year for all of you, and I hope you will indulge an old wizard's need to maunder before we tuck into our excellent meal. We've a House Cup to award it seems. In fourth place, we have Gryffindor with three hundred and twelve points; in third, our friends in Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two points; Ravenclaw is in second with four hundred and twenty-six points, and Slytherin stands at first with four hundred and seventy-two points."

The Slytherin table applauded themselves and a few of the other Houses gave perfunctory claps.

"Yes, well done again, Slytherin House. It would, however, be remiss of me not to take recent events into account."

The applause faded and many of the Slytherins were looking at the Headmaster with wariness, Professor Slytherin's red eyes narrowed at the older man, Snape's hand wrapped tight about his goblet's stem.

"No matter that you are in first already, I find it important to acknowledge every students' trials and successes so they can be recognized for their cunning, their brilliance, bravery, and humility in the face of difficult challenges and harrowing danger. To Misters Neville Longbottom and Ronald Weasley, I would like to award ten points each for their efforts in researching and warning the school of a danger that had gone unknown to the professors. Thank you, gentleman."

Gryffindor House cheered and Longbottom beamed, Ron shrugging off his brothers' well-meaning hair ruffling. Now that Dumbledore mentioned it, Harriet recalled Longbottom and Weasley wanting to go into the Restricted Section during the Yule hols to research something that began with "N," something Harriet suspected might be "Nicholas Flamel."

"To Misses Hermione Granger and Elara Black, I award ten points each for their care and consideration in regards to a classmate's protection and safety."

Harriet grinned at her best friends as their House clapped and whistled, even Malfoy and Parkinson begrudgingly bringing their hands together a few times. Hermione let out an embarrassed squeak, burying her head in her arms, and though Elara bore the attention with better poise, her cheeks did turn a flustered pink color.

"To our Head Girl, Miss Amanda Robinson, and our Head Boy, Ryan Uzkosk, for keeping calm, protecting and gathering younger students during a declared emergency, I award ten points each and wish them the absolute best in their adventures beyond our hallowed halls. Remember, Hogwarts is always here to help those who ask for it."

The Head Girl and Boy, a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw respectively, were applauded by their Houses and Harriet clapped too, because she could imagine how scary it must've been for other first years like herself, not knowing what was happening, why the school had been in lockdown, and she doubted they made things easy for Robinson and Uzkosk.

"And, finally, to Miss Harriet Potter, for remaining true to her friends, her family, her House, and herself in defiance of great evil and imminent threat, I award fifty points."

Harriet blushed from her head down to her toes when her House cheered, acting less dignified than a bunch of stiff pure-bloods usually did, though not as riotous as the Gryffindors would've been in a reversed situation. At the High Table, Harriet thought she saw Snape pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Professor Slytherin clapped like his students and looked…curious, just as he had every time he saw Harriet in recent days. She couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

"Yes, congratulations again, Slytherin House. I wish all of us a lovely summer and hope you'll arrive in September ready to learn again; maybe we'll get to see the Great Hall in different colors next year, hmm?"

The Feast commenced, and the Headmaster's words stuck with Harriet throughout the meal, a grin at her lips that'd been more reticent of late. For remaining true to her friends, her family, her House, and herself. The older Slytherins smiled and shook Harriet's hand, looking appreciative in a way her relatives never had, and Harriet herself felt proud—proud she'd done well in her classes, proud she'd made such wonderful friends, and proud that, in a moment of panic, she hadn't betrayed who she was. She hoped her mum and dad would be proud, too.

The Sorting Hat chose right, she told herself as she lifted her chin and looked at the enchanted ceiling. I will do well in Slytherin.

xXxXxXx

The train rattled on the rails as it chugged ever southward toward the distant horizon.

"I still don't understand what Professor Dumbledore's thinking," Hermione said, fidgeting with her forest green robes, causing the bench to squeak. "It doesn't make sense."

"It makes a perfect kind of sense, if that kind of sense is Dumbledore's," Elara countered as she lifted her nose from her journal. She, too, wore robes; a dark gray pair with sage lining and a high collar. Harriet, in contrast, dressed like a Muggle—though not her cousins' cast-offs, since those had met an unfortunate fate in the grate last summer. "He's privy to something we're not."

"Exactly," Hermione replied. "Why else would he keep this a secret? And for so long."

"Longbottom could use a bit of a head shrinkage," Harriet grumbled, giving her feet a moody kick. Livi grew restless inside her thin jumper and popped his head out the bottom, tongue flickering, lounging across Harriet's lap. She rubbed his snout with little thought.

"To keep Harriet safe." Elara crossed one leg over the other and leaned back. "The Boy Who Lived attracts a certain amount of enmity and we can assume the Girl Who Lived would be no different."

Harriet shuddered. "Ugh."

She'd told them all about Professor Quirrell, the Mirror of Erised, Quirrell's unsavory passenger, and what the Headmaster had told her afterward, despite the niggling fear that Elara and Hermione might decide friendship with her was too complicated or dangerous. Both had taken the news in stride, much to Harriet's relief, and they tried to puzzle out Dumbledore's decisions and actions when privacy allowed.

"But that's my point exactly, don't you see? Longbottom is guarded. He is, arguably, more protected than Harriet, who's anonymity and safety depends upon a serendipitous rouse, and what's the point of that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why would Harriet need anonymity? Why was she denied the fame and attention given to Neville?"

Harriet huffed and unwrapped a Pumpkin Pasty. "Please. I'd rather eat my wand then put up with all that stupidity." She shoved half of the Pasty into her mouth and presented the other to Livi, crumpling the wrapper to stow it in her pocket. "After talking with Professor Dumbledore, I think…well, I know he believes the Dark Lord's going to return."

"But what is the point of keeping you safe—? Oh, I didn't mean it like that, honestly, Harriet. I mean theoretically. Neville is, for all intents and purposes, the Boy Who Lived. He has been brought up and touted as such for years; should he die, it would have the same impact upon the community as it would if Harriet died had she been rightfully identified. There must be a reason that, in a worst-case scenario, it is plausible for Neville to die, but not for Harriet."

They sat in silence for a time, lost to their respective thoughts, and though it may have been macabre to consider the worth of a classmate's life against her own, Harriet was terribly glad Hermione and Elara were pragmatic enough to not make such projections personal.

Elara ran her fingers over the bent, worn edges of her journal's pages and said, "We're missing too many pieces of this puzzle, Hermione."

The bushy-haired girl exhaled and admitted defeat. "Yes, yes. You're right…."

All too soon, they slipped through London's peripheries and barreled on, the train rolling to a halt at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters where hundreds of parents stood about waiting for their children to disembark. Harriet pulled down her Charmed trunk, hoisted Livi higher, and followed her friends into the students streaming toward the doors. Her heart felt heavier with every step.

"I have to go," Hermione murmured once they stepped outside. Already she'd caught sight of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy standing to the side like a pair of perfectly matched salt pillars, Malfoy Senior leaning on a black cane while he surveyed the moving crowd with impassive eyes. Hermione hugged Harriet, then Elara. "I'll write—if I can. I'm not sure—oh, I'll miss you both terribly."

"We'll see you in September."

Hermione smiled, and off she went to greet her foster guardians. Elara and Harriet parted ways at the busy Floo, though not before the former embraced the bespectacled witch tight and warned, "I will be writing. And I expect you to send a letter back with Cygnus."

"'Course."

Elara held her skinny hand. "Tell me if you need anything while living with the Muggles."

Harriet didn't quite meet her eyes. "I will."

Then, Elara Black disappeared, just like Hermione had, and Harriet walked through the barrier into King's Cross Station alone aside from her serpentine companions and mischievous shadow. She strolled until she came to the avenue, where she tipped back her head and let the hot London sun warm her face, listening to the bustle of Muggle society around her, the honking horns, rolling tires, the screeching brakes of a lorry.

She took a breath, then let it out. She had nowhere to go and yet Harriet wasn't afraid, because Harriet Potter was a witch. She could talk to snakes, cast spells, and just days ago survived a confrontation with one of the Darkest wizards to ever live. Harriet Potter was a proud Slytherin, best friends with Hermione Granger and Elara Black, and was going to learn all the magic she could so, one day, she'd become great—because Harriet Potter was not afraid.

Not anymore.

"All right then. First stop on our way to greatness is…." Harriet stared at the pavement and, after swirling lazily about her feet, Set extended an arm and pointed along the avenue. "That way, I guess. Lovely. I think greatness needs a compass."


E


A/N: That's the end of year one! *confetti*

Thank you to all my reviewers and commenters! I love to read your thoughts on the story!

On a different note, I know my Dumbledore might be a bit OoC. I try to write him as I would expect a man supposedly as wise as Dumbledore, living in this altered world, would—and should—behave. I still expect he'll have spots of Gryffindor bias (like allowing Neville onto the Quidditch team), but he's going to be more straight-forward than canon Dumbledore, a bit more cunning, and more compassionate. This world has enough bloody Dark Lords, thank you very much.