lxxviii. watchful eyes

"Hermione, you're going to miss your train."

"It's fine," the witch in question replied, waving an idle hand without taking her eyes off the cauldron. "I've plenty of time yet."

"If by plenty of time you mean fifteen minutes, then yeah."

Hermione gave the potion another stir, and Harriet huffed. As they stood clustered in the damp stall, the three Slytherin witches could hear the occasional voice passing in the corridor, followed by jogging footsteps or squealing familiars or thumping pieces of luggage. Harriet knew if Hermione managed to miss her train home, she and Elara would somehow catch the blame, and she wasn't keen on spending the whole of the holiday chopping ingredients for Snape.

Elara would probably end up stabbing him with a paring knife.

"—Harriet."

"Hmm?"

She turned her gaze to Hermione again and almost went cross-eyed looking at the small vial she held up to her nose. "Be careful," Hermione said as Harriet took the vial, scrutinizing the insides. "That's the only hair I managed to get off of Professor Sinistra."

"This plan is barmy, I hope you know."

"It's not. It's perfectly logical! Professor Sinistra doesn't often leave the Astronomy Tower, thus lowering the prospective chances of you being caught—but she does leave sometimes, which means your—or her—presence won't be suspicious. Elara will go to her office and keep the professor busy with questions just to ensure she doesn't wander down to the staff room."

"And how am I supposed to get information, Hermione? 'Jolly good, let me freshen your cuppa, Slytherin—oh, by the way, what's in your great-great-great grandda's secret chamber there?'"

"Don't be glib, Harriet. You'll do no such thing." Hermione gave the cauldron a final stir, then removed the ladle, returning it to the open kit. "No, professors gossip just as much as any student. I can't even begin to tell you the things I've heard them half-say before they realize I'm in the room with another teacher—but that's not the point. No, you're just there to learn what they know, not interrogate them. That'd be an intolerable risk and—foolish."

"But what if I don't find anything out? What if I actually do manage to make the potion, but none of the professors are around or they just don't mention the Chamber? What then?"

"That's the only risk we should be taking, really." Hermione took a deep breath, then exhaled. "The potion is a means to an end, Harriet—and if we can't find out what we want to know safely, then there's no point to it, is there? If you don't learn anything new, so be it. We'll find another way—find a spell, or another potion, or something. We're clever enough and cunning enough not to get caught by being silly."

"If you say so," Harriet mumbled, blinking owlishly as she looked down into the Polyjuice Potion, still holding the vial with Professor Sinistra's hair. It was a convoluted but bizarrely simple plan in her opinion, and if Harriet followed Hermione's directions, she'd manage all right. She knew from experience adults became much more chatty when they didn't know children were around, and while Harriet believed Slytherin would be more circumspect, the professor did have an arrogant streak in him that could work in their favor.

Harriet groaned and rubbed at her eyes, almost knocking off her glasses.

"Don't touch your face, you're in a loo, Harriet."

"I didn't put my hands in the toilet or something, Elara, for Merlin's sake."

"Still. It's unsanitary."

Harriet dropped her arms back to her side and resisted the urge to scowl. Hermione whipped out a large scroll from her bag and shoved it toward the shorter witch, who took it—and nearly dropped both it and the vial in the cauldron, surprised by the weight. "Those are all my notes on the Polyjuice. I copied and annotated all the directions from the book, noting all the proper colors and smells, what the potion should look like before adding the hair, etcetera."

Gawking, Harriet realized it must have taken Hermione ages to put all this together, and she felt another prickle of worry and nerves go through her. Hermione was the one who'd put in all the work, and now she was handing off the nearly finished potion to Harriet, confident she wouldn't make a total mess of things. The younger Slytherin swallowed.

"I'll do my best. I promise."

"I know you will." Hermione exhaled, then fidgeted with her bag. If Harriet didn't know better, she'd say the other girl was stalling and purposefully cutting her chances of making the train short. Why? Didn't she want to see her mum and dad? "Well, we'd best hurry down to the entrance hall."

Harriet secreted the notes and vial away into her robes' pocket, moving Kevin up into her collar out of the way. "Wait, hang on, I've got this—."

She yanked the Invisibility Cloak out, earning a bemused look from both of her friends as she hurried to explain. "Well, there's a lot of people about, isn't there? And they'll be more suspicious after what happened to Finch-Fletchley, so I thought it might look odd if three girls came out of a loo no one ever goes into and—."

"It's a great idea," Hermione rushed to assure her. "Does it cover all three of us?"

The Cloak did, in fact, cover all three witches, but not without a fair share of shuffling, toe-treading, and misplaced elbows. Elara had to hunch and Harriet wound up caught between the two with a mouthful of Hermione's frizzy hair, and yet the trio managed to quietly slip from Myrtle's loo into the corridor with no one the wiser. Good thing, too, because not a moment later, Professor Flitwick came bustling past, a pocketwatch balanced in his hand as he muttered under his breath.

"Let's go this way—."

They hurried along the hall, then took off the Cloak once out of sight of Flitwick and the loo. Harriet stuffed the Cloak back into her robes, and together they walked through the History of Magic corridor, avoiding the suit of armor prone to kicking students who crowded too close to it. A low, droning voice echoed from one of the abandoned classrooms, but Harriet paid it no mind; she knew from experience it was only a ghost named Cuthbert Binns, who had supposedly been a professor both before and after he died, until he finally got the sack. Of course, they couldn't really sack a ghost, so the class got moved to a different end of the corridor, and Professor Binns went right on teaching, even if he didn't have any students.

Professor Selwyn was at his desk, writing a letter, the quill whipping from side to side. They scuttled by his open door as quickly as they could. Shouldn't he be down with the other teachers making sure no one gets left behind?

Hermione pulled back a dusty tapestry, and they went single-file through a dark and stuffy secret passage that somehow managed to drop them down a level without having any stairs. The trio came out onto the main floor, where the voices of their fellows echoed louder, and Harriet could hear Professor McGonagall scolding someone over the crackle of a Filibuster Firework.

"Merlin, who thought it was a good idea to set one of those off…."

It appeared most everyone was running late that morning, as students dashed about the entrance hall, accounting for their things, all while their professors urged them out the doors. Hermione, who had everything she needed already tucked into her satchel, yanked both Harriet and Elara into a hug. Elara stood there like she was unsure what to do with her hands, and Harriet squeezed both of them just because she could.

"You're squishing my lungs, Harriet…."

"You both be safe," Hermione said, voice quiet but fierce as she let go and stepped back. "Do your holiday assignments. And for goodness' sake, don't go chasing after any strange voices, and don't antagonize Professor Snape."

"Neither of us antagonizes him. I just breathe in his direction and the bloke has a fit."

Hermione wasn't convinced given her stern look, but she shook her head and dropped the topic. With a final wave, she turned and set off after the other students hurrying down the steps in their winter robes, white flecks whirling in the air and coming to land upon the entrance hall's stone floor. A few snowflakes touched Harriet's hair and melted.

"She's safer out of the castle," Elara muttered as they watched their friend go. Harriet nodded, sad to see Hermione leave, but pleased she'd have a chance to see her parents and escape the Chamber's looming threat. She would be safer outside Hogwarts for now.

The holidays seemed unusually grim to Harriet, and she wasn't looking forward to the weeks ahead. She had to finish the Polyjuice without messing up, and both she and Elara would have to avoid Snape and Slytherin and probably every other professor so their plans wouldn't be bungled before they even began. She thought of what Professor Dumbledore had said when she'd yelled at him—and Harriet could hardly believe she'd done that. What had gotten into her?!—pondering the answers to all the questions she wanted to ask.

Something wasn't right, and not because there was an invisible, Petrifying monster slithering about. The Board of Governors wouldn't let the Headmaster close the school, and Minister Gaunt wouldn't send a competent Auror to assist them, and someone kept writing those weird, incriminating messages on the walls. Slytherin's Heir will cleanse the dirty-blooded. The only bloody Heir of Slytherin at Hogwarts was Professor Slytherin, so someone clearly had it out for the wizard.

Something just wasn't right, and like Professor Dumbledore told her, sometimes the easiest solutions weren't all they appeared.

Frowning, Harriet started to turn from the doors—and paused when she spotted Longbottom lurking outside the Great Hall. "Oh, bloody hell."

Both the Boy Who Lived and several Weasleys lingered there, all still dressed in their school robes, watching the other students sprint outside for the carriages. Longbottom was glaring at Harriet and Elara, suspicion clear in his dumb face, and Harriet wanted nothing more than to swear at the git. "Doesn't he have a bloody family to go home to?" she whispered. "He's going to be watching us! As if having stupid Snape around wasn't bad enough—."

The wizard in question stood on the upper landing, deep in conversation with Professor Dumbledore—until Mr. Lockhart came gallivanting over, at which point both the Headmaster and Potions Master broke off their discussion with mirrored looks of aggravation. If Harriet hadn't been so peeved about Longbottom, she would have laughed.

"Come on, let's go to the common room. It should be quiet there."

Shooting a final ugly look toward Longbottom, Harriet shuffled after Elara—who moved with far more poise and much better posture. "Why d'you walk so pretty?"

"Why don't you pick up your feet?"

"I'm being serious!"

"So was I." The bustle and cheer of the entrance hall faded behind them as the pair descended into the dungeons, their footsteps resounding in the enclosed space. Torchlight guided their way into the overwhelming dark. "If you're swatted enough for slouching, it becomes a habit not to do so."

"Oh," Harriet said, voice quiet. A muscle worked in Elara's jaw, and she refused to look in her direction.

"Besides, doesn't Mrs. Malfoy harangue you about sitting up straight and dressing properly? You're still writing letters to her, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I didn't think I was going to, but I dunno. Some of the stuff she says is bollocks, but she also tells me interesting bits here and there about everything." Harriet glanced down at her too-big jumper under her robes and tried straightening both it and the buttoned shirt beneath it. "You don't think I dress funny, do you?"

"No. I think you're fine the way you are." They came upon the hidden entrance to the common room and Elara gave the password. "Are you going to read Hermione's notes?"

"Yeah, I better get started on it. I think this scroll weighs more than I—."

Harriet came to a stop mid-sentence as she bumped into Elara's back, who stood frozen not two feet past the hidden wall. Confused, Harriet peered around her—and flinched, because Professor Slytherin sat by the main hearth, his profile cast in shadow by the firelight, one leg crossed over the other and a goblet in his hand. As Harriet and Elara came inside, he turned, placed the goblet aside, and stood.

"Good—good morning, Professor Slytherin," Harriet managed to say, both surprised and wary. What was he doing there? He only ever came to the common room when he wanted to chew out the whole of the House for something terrible happening.

"Good morning, Miss Potter, Miss Black," the wizard replied. He smiled, but Harriet knew it was fake, his red eyes narrowed and cold as they inspected her and Elara. His robes rippled as he stepped forward, the fire at his back throwing his face deeper into shadow. Harriet could only see the vague glint of his teeth and startling eyes in the weak glow given by the silver lanterns. "My, my. Is this not the second Yule holiday you've remained at the school, Potter? Where are your relatives?"

Thinking about the Dursleys forced Harriet to stiffen her spine, though she almost fidgeted and looked away. She decided to feed him the same lie she gave Snape last year, because though he hadn't looked convinced, it was technically true. "They work, Professor."

"Hmm. And you, Black?"

"I'm emancipated and can spend the holidays as I please, sir."

He continued to approach them until he stopped not two feet away, looking down his nose at both witches with something harsh and doubtful glittering behind his eyes. "As you are the only Slytherins remaining behind, I felt it prudent to remind you both of the curfew and my expectations."

"Yes, professor."

"Refrain from wandering and…mingling. You'd both be fools not to realize someone in this school seeks to sully my name—and thus your names as well, given all of Slytherin House shares in this uncalled for maligning. Stick to the common room unless your presence is necessitated elsewhere, and should I find either of you out after hours…. Well, let's just say the consequences will be quite dire indeed."

Harriet could only nod, and Elara looked grim.

Slytherin continued to study them for another minute, his hands loose at his sides, until he seemed satisfied. "Good. I remember assigning you an essay for the break; I expect an additional foot from both of you. It's best to keep busy, lest idle minds turn to…mischief." He cocked his head to one side, and over his shoulder hissed, "Watch them."

"Yesss, Massster."

With that said, Slytherin swept by Harriet and Elara, disappearing into the corridor with barely a sound to note his departure. Harriet watched the serpent in the painted rowan roots curl itself around the wild tree, its sharp, beady eyes trained on hers even across the room. She didn't inform Elara of what Professor Slytherin had said, because one didn't need to be a Parselmouth to know it hadn't been good.

Harriet took her friend by the hand, and they escaped into the dorms.


A/N: I know Draco and a bunch of other Slytherins stayed for the hols in the book—but that kinda goes against the headcanon I've established where most students head home for the Yule break. So, no Draco.