ciii. by the sea
By this point in her life, Harriet was no stranger to trouble and dire circumstances.
She'd lived through Professor Quirrell's kidnapping. She'd escaped a wizard intruding into her tent. She'd even survived an encounter with a Basilisk—and yet, none of those happenings had the same fervor she encountered at this moment with Snape's hand welding a bruise into the skin of her arm. His harried movements dragged Harriet and Elara both through the entirety Grimmauld Place and didn't stop until they reached the kitchen.
"Your father has escaped from Azkaban."
Harriet didn't know much about Elara's father. She knew he'd been imprisoned for all of Elara's life and that he'd committed a crime violent enough ensure a permanent life sentence. He was the Head of the Black family and Harriet had a nebulous understanding of what that meant, more so in what responsibilities it gave Elara as the family's proxy. She'd always thought of him in the abstract—that he existed, or had existed, and was now beyond their reach and rightfully so.
Hearing Snape tell Elara her father had escaped prison was like having him turn to Harriet and say her dad had just popped out of his grave.
"Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office!"
The Potions Master threw Harriet and Elara into the green fire headfirst, Harriet sucking in a mouthful of ash, choking, her cheek scraping the inside of the hearth. By pure luck did she manage to hold onto Livi as the Floo activated and the horrid, crushing pressure yanked them away. Harriet slammed her eyes shut and held her breath, waiting for it to end, the spiraling seeming to go on and on until—
She slowed and blinked, gasping at the sudden burst of fresh air smacking into her face. Harriet yelped as something hard knocked into her ankles and she fell with a thud.
When her ears stopped ringing and her head stopped spinning, Harriet heard retching, followed by a wet splat.
"Wonderful, Black."
Snape's drawl emanated from somewhere above and Harriet felt the hem of his robes brush her legs as he came out of the fire and stepped over them. She peeled her stinging cheek off the floor and grabbed her glasses, almost putting her hand in the puddle sick as she sat up. Cloth rustled and Professor Dumbledore appeared in her line of sight, the older wizard frowning at Snape as he waved his hand to vanish the mess and helped a nauseous Elara to her feet.
The exhaustion of traveling by magical means from London to the highlands settled on Harriet's already tired shoulders and she slumped forward, shaking her head to rid herself of the sudden spots blooming in her vision.
"Potter!" Snape snapped, much to her irritation, and when Harriet glanced up, she found his arm extended toward her. For one mad second, she thought he meant to help her upright. "Get these off of me."
"Ssss…."
"Kevin bitesss!"
"Bitesss the rude one!"
In the mad rush from the house, Snape had managed to snag hold of Kevin and Rick—who had, in turn, sank their tiny teeth into his flesh in several places, his wand still clenched tight in his fist. Harriet lurched forward to detangle them—all while Snape glared at the top of her head like he wanted to set her on fire and Livi made aggressive hissing noises at the wizard. Meanwhile, Professor Dumbledore settled Elara in one of his visitor chairs, pressing a cup of tea into her shaking grasp.
"Let go, Kevin," she told the green snake, coaxing him free. It was then that Harriet noticed a curious scar on Snape's hand; it looped around his palm and part of his knuckles, disappearing into his sleeve. It couldn't be wider than a hair, white in color, and almost shiny. She'd never spotted it from a distance before and thought it odd-looking. Snape seemed to realize where her attention had gone and hurried to pry Rick loose, shoving him into her hands before stepping away.
"Good evening, Harriet, Elara," Professor Dumbledore said in greeting. "I apologize for having disturbed your night, but these are dire circumstances. Severus."
Snape took a conjured handkerchief from the Headmaster without comment and wiped off his bloodied hand, making a shoddy job of it. Harriet sank into the seat next to Elara and tried not to fall asleep, though it was a near thing. Professor Dumbledore resumed his own seat behind the desk, though he appeared to carry on a silent conversation with Snape that mostly consisted of him giving Snape hard, disappointed glances while the other man sneered. Harriet thought he deserved a good telling off.
"Tonight, I was contacted by the Ministry and was informed that Sirius Black has escaped his cell in Azkaban sometime earlier this afternoon." The headmaster paused to let the news sink in. Elara hadn't regained her color after traveling through the Floo and Harriet worried she might be sick again. "A thorough search of the prison and the island itself have been completed. Further sweeps of the neighboring countryside have already begun."
"I take it they found nothing, sir," Elara remarked, voice dull.
"Not yet. The Aurory is hopeful he'll be recaptured soon, however—." His eyes flicked from Elara back to Harriet. "It was necessary to remove you from the house, given that Mr. Black is still recognized as the owner and would unimpeded by the wards."
"How did he manage it? I thought no one has ever escaped before."
"No one is certain at this time."
Livi stirred on Harriet's lap. "We are at the ssstone placcce," he hissed, Kevin and Rick echoing his statement from her front pocket. "It isss too early to be at the ssstone placcce."
"There's been an emergency," Harriet murmured. She didn't know why Professor Dumbledore or Snape thought it so imperative they had to leave the house in the middle of the bloody night with barely a moment's notice. What had Sirius Black done? Was he really that dangerous? Did they think he would actually hurt his own daughter? If she had escaped from prison, she would've skipped town, not gone gallivanting through London, so why did they think he would stick around?
"I don't mean to frighten you both—."
"Perhaps they need to be frightened," Snape interrupted, hovering somewhere behind Harriet's chair. She wished he wouldn't. "Better them frightened than foolhardy, Headmaster. Certain crimes should also be brought to light—."
Tired as she was, Harriet didn't see Elara pale further and shoot a panicked, pleading look in Dumbledore's direction. The wizard pursed his lips.
"That's enough, Severus."
Snape subsided into a furious, ill-tempered silence, busying himself with removing Harriet and Elara's trunks from his pocket, Charming them back into the proper size. He dropped them with loud bangs.
"Professor…" Harriet began, hesitating while she rubbed at her eyes. "I'm not sure I understand. I don't—are we in danger? Is Sirius Black dangerous? Would he hurt Elara?"
Dumbledore considered his answer for a moment, studying his hand pressed flat on the desk's surface, then Elara, who watched the headmaster with tentative resignation. "We cannot predict the goals or behavior of a wizard like Sirius Black, Harriet." Snape snorted. "I can tell you we believe him to be a danger to a great many people and until he is returned to Azkaban, neither of you can reside at Grimmauld Place."
"But where are we supposed to go, then?"
"That is the question now, dear girl." Professor Dumbledore leaned into his chair, stroking his beard. Fawkes, on his perch, chirped and watched the proceedings. Harriet kept a hand over Kevin and Rick's pocket lest the phoenix decided he wanted a snack. "I've spent the time Professor Snape used in retrieving you to consider a few options—."
"Not the Malfoys," Elara interjected, flushing at her own rudeness. "Sorry, sir. I won't go to the Malfoys. I'm not entirely convinced they'd allow me to leave."
"Color me surprised, Black. You have a measure of sense in that empty head of yours."
Unruffled by the snide side comment, Dumbledore replied with, "No, Miss Black, not the Malfoys. We don't wish for Harriet's living situation to get back to the Ministry, after all. Would you be amenable to me asking Xenophilius Lovegood? I'm certain he would freely open his home to both of you after your daring rescue of his daughter, Miss Lovegood."
"No!" Snape strode closer and leaned over the man's desk. "Have a care, Albus! Xenophilius Lovegood?! I wouldn't trust that airhead to look after a crup!"
"Have you a suggestion then, Severus? I would enjoy hearing it."
Given his lack of response, Harriet guessed Snape didn't have a suggestion and it galled him to admit as much to the Headmaster. It didn't last for long, and soon a pinched expression overcame his face, Snape muttering, "The Weasleys," as he straightened. "Loathsome as the brood of redheaded Gryffindors are, the Burrow is defensible and well-protected. I also believe these two miscreants have formed a friendship with their daughter."
"Ginny?" Harriet blurted. "How d'you know that?"
Snape turned his baleful gaze on her. "She's one of your many pen pals."
"Oi! How d'you know that?! Are you reading my letters?!"
"Don't be daft! You write them at the kitchen table, you stupid girl—."
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat and Snape shut his mouth, the muscles in his jaw flexing. "As enlightening as this conversation it, I believe we have other issues to discuss."
Scoffing, Snape moved off, coming to settle at the closest window like a great, unhappy owl, staring past his hooked nose toward the inky blankness of the grounds below. "The Weasleys, then?" he asked in a more reasonable tone. Though reasonable seemed an awfully bold word to apply to Snape at the moment. Harriet didn't think she'd seen him this agitated before.
"A good idea, but not a plausible one for now. Arthur and Molly took their children out of country for a much needed holiday."
"Then what will you do?"
"Spinner's End, perhaps?"
"God no. Are you mad, Dumbledore? I cannot watch them all hours of the day and night, nor would it be proper."
"Yes, you're right…."
They exchanged a few names Harriet wasn't familiar with while she dropped her gaze to her knees and rubbed at her eyes again, giving her scraped cheek a hard pinch to wake herself up. It seemed surreal, fleeing their house because a dangerous criminal had escaped prison and might pop by like an unfortunate aunt coming round for tea. Elara hadn't said anything after rejecting the Malfoys, her posture rigid, her thoughts unknowable behind the flat surface of her eyes. Harriet reached over to give her forearm a nervous squeeze and still she didn't react.
"Could we stay here at Hogwarts, sir?" Harriet asked. Despite everything happening, spending the rest of the summer at the school excited her. Hermione would be fuming with jealousy at the idea of them having unrestricted access to the library.
"That would be impossible, I fear. Hogwarts is a very large and very old building, and should one of you come into harm's way, there wouldn't be anyone about to assist. Most of the staff return home."
"What if we stayed in the dormitory?"
"And there we have our second issue; Professor Slytherin has the unfortunate habit of spending more time than most at Hogwarts, even during the holidays, and he is a terribly nosy sort."
Harriet scowled in frustration. Dumbledore smiled, though his attention was much farther away, the cogs of his impressive brain visibly churning. "I believe…" he stated after some contemplation, voicing his decision with careful thought. "I know of someone who would be happy to take you and Elara into their home."
From the window, Snape turned his head and narrowed his eyes. "Who, Albus?"
"I will have to write a letter and wait for a response before I can be sure." Dumbledore stood. "For now, I will show Harriet and Elara to a room for the rest of the night. I know you must both be tired."
Snape grunted his assent, then whipped around and stalked away from the window back to the hearth. "I'm returning to Grimmauld."
If Dumbledore wanted to argue, the Potions Master didn't give him the chance; he threw a snatched handful of Floo Powder into the flames and disappeared in a whirl of green and black. Harriet stared at the spot of soot left behind and wanted to know how the wizard handled so many trips back and forth when it only took one to wipe her out. Maybe that was why Snape was so bloody crabby.
The Headmaster gently chivvied both witches out of their chairs and up the stairs, Charming their trunks to float along behind them. Harriet had never studied the doors leading off the Headmaster's upper mezzanine before, having decided they led into his private rooms—and the professor proved that deduction correct when he unlocked the door and let them inside the corridor beyond. "The Headmaster or Headmistress, having to spend much of his or her time at the school, is allotted extra quarters for their family to use," Dumbledore explained, the light at the end of his wand leading them through the quiet, slightly musty space. "The quarters haven't seen much use during my tenure. Ah, here we are."
He opened another door and inside waited two beds with walnut posts, the headboards positioned against the far wall, a large, half-circle window of stained glass situated between them. Above, an image of the celestial sphere had been painted on the ceiling and the stars had been Charmed a bold, glittering gold color. A fine, thin film of dust covered the surfaces, the small hearth clean and empty. It clearly hadn't been used in a number of years.
Professor Dumbledore pointed out the attached washroom and left them to get situated, promising to return in the morning with news. By then, Harriet shook with fatigue and didn't try questioning him further on what was happening and where they had to go. Elara still didn't say a word as they changed into their night things and got ready for bed, slipping into the unused sheets of their beds, dimming the sole lantern left burning on the nightstand.
Harriet laid on her back and watched the constellations form on the ceiling, each spot glittering and gliding like real stars across the sky, Livius' weight heavy on her legs, the blankets warm—if a bit stiff. It was a beautiful room, and a sudden, inexplicable melancholy struck when Harriet considered how long it had been empty. In the privacy of her own thoughts, she dared to wonder why Professor Dumbledore didn't have a family of his own. She would have liked having a grandfather like him.
Harriet dozed, and when Elara tugged the sheets down and came to lie next to her, she didn't open her eyes. She tucked her friend's hand into her own and, together, they fell asleep.
x X x
Dawn had only just broken on the eastern horizon when Harriet, Elara, and Professor Dumbledore appeared on a quaint country road far from the soaring climes of the Scottish highlands.
The Headmaster had woken them quite early and still hadn't told them where they were headed. "It's a surprise," he'd said over a quick breakfast of scones and jam. "Though we'd best be punctual. He doesn't much care for lateness." Harriet ate and Elara sipped an Anti-Nausea draft in preparation for the journey, neither saying much of anything until a house-elf cleared away their plates and the Headmaster said it was time to go. Harriet closed Livi and the other snakes away in his terrarium inside her trunk, and—together with Elara—took Professor Dumbledore's arm and Disapparated from his office.
"Excellent," the wizard said as he straightened his spangled hat and surveyed their surroundings. Green trees surrounded the dirt road, though Harriet could smell the sea and hear the sloshing waves over the warbling of summer birds. A crooked wooden sign stuck up from the brush at the road's side, shaped like an arrow and pointed deeper into the sun-dappled trees. The face bore the word TREFHUD.
"Can you say where we are now, Professor?" Harriet inquired.
He nodded. "Certainly. We are in the Wizarding hamlet of Trefhud, a lovely stretch of land in Devonshire."
"Trefhud?" They started walking, shoes kicking up small puffs of dust. Harriet looked to Elara and the other witch shrugged. "I haven't heard of it before."
"It isn't terribly well-known, even in magical society. It was Charmed quite a long time ago and hidden from Muggles, much like Diagon Alley, hiding it from view and from their maps. See?"
As the trees thinned, revealing the rolling, wooded hills, Professor Dumbledore pointed to a distant, familiar shimmer like gossamer light rippling the air. Beyond the ripple, Muggle power lines suddenly veered away and circled away, staggering around the hillside. The road ahead split again, one fork leading downhill toward a little charming village situated on the glistening shoreline while the other climbed inland and disappeared into the thickening forest and rising hills. Dumbledore took the latter path and the young witches followed.
They stopped at an iron gate set in a wall of weathered red bricks, strange stones and baubles tied to the wisteria vine twisting around the gate's high arch. Professor Dumbledore needed only push the gate in and it offered no resistance, but Harriet felt powerful magic come awake and stir like a drowsy guard dog deciding whether or not to give chase. They entered a tidy garden bearing standard English flora and a healthy mix of plants she'd seen in Professor Sprout's greenhouses—and, beyond that, the gray face of a stone house loomed, the red tiles of the roof limned in the coming light of day. A pond bordered the garden and the woods, a large white egret balanced above the waters watching as they passed by.
Professor Dumbledore didn't have a chance to knock before one of the front doors popped open and a wizard stepped out onto the porch. He was middling in height and age, silver threading his dark, curly hair and short beard, his face creased with easy laugh lines and crow's feet. He wore fitted trousers and boots, his waistcoat open over a shirt with loose, billowing sleeves.
He raised a callused hand and waved. "Albus! Vous êtes en avance, eh?" The wizard looked to Harriet and smiled, his dark eyes dancing. "Hello, petit oiseau."
Harriet gaped, because of all the people she expected to meet that morning, she would have never guessed Nicolas Flamel.
A/N: Bam! Who saw it coming? I've said it before and I'll say it again, I've never seen the second Fantastic Beasts movie (idk, the first just bored me and I can't find the energy to see the second. Anyway) so my Nicolas Flamel is nothing like that one. He's basically an OC. Also, for a quick recap: Harriet doesn't know what Sirius did and she definitely doesn't know about him being her godfather. Elara does.
Remember, there's a Discord server now where you can join the community and stay up to date on chapter releases! The link's posted on my author page if you need it. (Case sensitive!)
