clxxxix. prepared

The letter came for Harriet as lunch was due to end, and she sat outside in Slytherin's Redoubt, watching the snow layer across the grounds in papery sheets.

She didn't notice Fawkes at first, her attention fixed instead on Kevin coiled in her palm, her fingers cupped to protect him from the snow. He was in the middle of listing all the snacks he favored and wanted to eat, several of which Harriet knew he'd never tried. He spent too much time listening to Livi, but he was definitely Livi's favorite. The Horned Serpent didn't like Howard, who could rarely be stirred to do more than snooze, and Rick thought himself the ringleader of their little den.

Fawkes made his presence known with a loud squawk, the noise muffled around the letter held by his beak. Startled, Harriet flinched.

"Steady on…."

She reached up to the bird perched on the parapet and took the letter, offering the leftovers from her bacon butty. Fawkes brightened at this exchange and hopped down to Harriet's knee. She squirreled Kevin away in her sleeve as the phoenix started in on picking over the food wrappings.

"Ow, Kevin—no biting! Merlin's beard…." Harriet grumbled, turning the letter over in her hands to peel back the Hogwarts seal. She already suspected the letter was from Professor Dumbledore, and she wasn't wrong.

"Dearest Harriet,

I would like to request your presence in my office at your earliest convenience for an important discussion. I will, of course, need to excuse you from your afternoon Defense lesson."

"Brilliant," Harriet grinned, continuing.

"Though I don't believe our discussion will take very long, you might find it necessary to take the period for reflection. Or perhaps a nice walk around the grounds, or a visit to the kitchens. The elves are working on a particularly tasty trifle. Whichever is your preference.

Professors Snape and McGonagall will be joining us for our meeting.

Yours,

Albus Dumbledore.

- P.S., Have you tried the Singing Sorbet?"

Harriet folded the letter again. She was happy to miss Defense; she took any excuse she could to get out of Slytherin's lessons, even going to Madam Pomfrey once to fake a case of the sniffles that had the matron rolling her eyes. However, she didn't know what Professor Dumbledore wanted to talk to her about, and that had her on edge.

Maybe something about the apprenticeship, she thought, frowning. Maybe he's changed his mind, and I don't have to try anymore. I could only be so lucky.

Parchment rustled, a buckle clinking. "Oi!" Harriet snapped, yanking her satchel away from Fawkes' inquisitive beak. The phoenix had moved on from the sandwich scraps to Harriet's bag, and he came away with a carefully wrapped package of Honeydukes' Best Fudge. Harriet made a grab for it and caught a wing in the face as Fawkes took flight.

"Daft bird," she muttered under her breath, nursing a sore nose. Kevin peeked from her sleeve to see if he was safe, and Harriet plopped him into her pocket.

The corridors remained mostly clear as she returned inside and shouldered her satchel. Harriet considered going to find Elara and Hermione to tell them where she was headed, but she didn't know where they'd be now, if they'd still be in the Great Hall or if they'd have moved on to wait in the Defense corridor. Harriet didn't want to run across Professor Slytherin and have to explain how she'd be missing his class.

As she neared the library, she passed a group of Durmstrang students, and one of their number broke away from the others. Harriet looked up, adjusting her glasses, and Viktor Krum waved at her.

She almost turned around to see if he was waving at someone behind her.

"Hello," Krum said as he crossed the corridor and approached Harriet. Some of the other Durmstrang students turned to see where Krum was going, and Harriet felt as if her feet had been hexed to the floor, an anxious flush rising to her face.

"'Lo," she returned.

"It is nice to see you. You have not been in the library lately."

"Yeah, I've been avoiding the inquisition." When Krum raised a puzzled brow, Harriet hurried to explain. "Oh, it's a, err, House thing. A lot of annoying questions. I'm hoping it'll die down by next week."

"This is good. You vill be back soon then, yes?"

"Yes?" Harriet fidgeted with the letter still tucked in her hand, thumb running along the folded edge. "D'you want to study sometime? I'm only a fourth year, but if you need help with something…."

Krum smiled, though he shook his head. "No. That vas not what I meant. I vas hoping to ask if you vould go to the village vith me next veek."

"The village? You mean Hogsmeade?" What did he want in Hogsmeade? And, more to the point, why would he ask Harriet to go with him? Surely he could go on his own or with some of the other Durmstrang people. "D'you need someone to show you around?"

Krum blinked and then scratched his cheek, looking awkward. "No…I vanted to go vith you."

A strange noise left Harriet. It could only be described as disbelief mixed with a gasp—and perhaps a note of a groan. Regardless, it was definitely strange and Harriet rushed to cover it. "I can't go to Hogsmeade," she blurted. "I don't have permission."

A furrow deepened the skin between Krum's thick brows. "I am not familiar with this rule."

"We have to have our guardians sign our permission slips to get into the village," she replied. "Mine, um, didn't. So I'm not allowed."

"They do not allow you to play Quidditch, and they do not allow you to go vith your friends to the village? They are very strict."

"Ah, yeah." She forced a laugh. Blaming her non-existent guardians for her life's stricture came perilously close to the kind of blatant lying that made Harriet uncomfortable. "Sorry."

"Is it not possible for you to visit at all?" Krum shifted from one foot to the other. "Vould you take a walk vith me, then? That day?"

"Sure. There's great places to walk on the grounds."

"Then it is a plan." One of the Durmstrang boys said something in a foreign language—Bulgarian most likely—and Krum's eyes flicked in his direction. "I have to go."

"All right. Bye."

"I vill see you soon."

Krum left with his classmates just as the bell rang, Harriet watching him go before she shook herself into movement, heading for the stairs. It was as she climbed, still holding the letter from Dumbledore, that a comment from Slytherin drifted through her thoughts.

"Do not become distracted, Potter. Especially by a tawdry, terminal romance."

She stopped mid-step as her eyes widened. Had Viktor Krum asked her on a date? Surely not. Surely that wasn't how someone went about asking a person out, but as Harriet stared into space and tried to visualize how she would ask someone on a date, she came up blank.

Oh no, she thought. What was she meant to say? What was she meant to do? He couldn't possibly have meant what Professor Slytherin said he meant. No. Impossible.

"You there!" one of the stuffy portraits on the wall called to her. "Get you along now! You are to be late for your lessons!"

Harriet grumbled a snarky reply but kept it to herself. Annoying the portraits never did anyone any favors.

She made it to Dumbledore's office without further incident, though she did take the long way to avoid Filch when she spotted Mrs. Norris lurking. She approached the gargoyle, and when she reached it, Harriet glanced at the letter in her hand again.

"Singing Sorbet?"

The gargoyle leapt aside, and Harriet took the spiral steps upward. She could hear muffled voices inside the office before the door opened.

"Harriet," Professor Dumbledore greeted as she came inside. He sat behind his desk while Professor McGonagall occupied one of the seats in front of it, the pair sharing a plate of shortbreads and a pot of tea. Snape, as usual, chose to stand off to the side, glowering at the white flecks coming to rest on the window's glass.

"Hello, Headmaster," Harriet said. She gave the scene a nervous look over as Professor McGonagall set aside her steaming drink. Fawkes, on his perch, had chocolate smudged on his beak, the carcass of Harriet's once carefully wrapped morsel of fudge left on his food tray. "Am I trouble, sir?"

"No, no. Nothing like that." Dumbledore placed his cup on its saucer, and a gentle wave of magic returned the whole tray to its service. "Would you like to have a seat?"

Harriet sat in the chair by McGonagall, though once she sat down, she almost wished she could stand again. McGonagall wore her usual stern expression and didn't appear much pleased to be there, but Harriet didn't think she was angry. Snape kept his back to the room.

"How are your studies going?"

"Fine," Harriet replied, fidgeting. "I think my marks are okay."

"I'm told they're excellent." Dumbledore smiled, and Harriet could have died from shock when no argument or derisive snort came out of Snape. McGonagall cleared her throat. "Ah, but allow me to get to the point of your visit. What are your thoughts on Professor Slytherin's first trial?"

Harriet shrugged one shoulder.

"A verbal answer, Miss Potter," McGonagall scolded.

"I don't know what to say, Professor." Harriet usually did her best not to spend time ruminating on Slytherin's behavior. It did her little good attempting to understand the motives of a madman. "He was trying to prove he's clever and make everyone else look stupid. It was underhanded to make us think we needed to search the forest—but I reckon we can't expect anything else from him, can we?"

Dumbledore nodded with her words, a serious expression sharpening the lines around his eyes. "Yes. For all that he may appear careless at times, Professor Slytherin has motives for everything he does. He often employs petty games or wordplay to incite different reactions from people. He has often reminded me of a child being cruel to a pet to see how it will behave in distress, and like a child, he lacks a conscience. I believe the Muggles would call him a sociopath."

From the window, Snape stirred ever so slightly, dark head tipping toward the Headmaster so he could give one curt nod.

Harriet studied Dumbledore before allowing her gaze to drift over the walls and the spectating faces. Her mind churned back to the encounter she had with Slytherin on the ramparts. What reaction had he been looking for when he decided to tell her his "secret?" He'd wanted something, but what exactly?

"I won't say you were lucky in the trial. Luck would imply a certain serendipity, and I do not think luck has driven you and Misses Granger and Black to create your marvelous invention. I imagine you made it precisely for situations such as that, and that is not luck. That is good prudence. It is prudence I wish to discuss with you this afternoon—prudence in moving forward in Professor Slytherin's trials."

McGonagall shifted in her seat, biting back a half-uttered word, and Snape turned from the window.

"I wish for you to accept extra tutoring from those of us gathered here, Harriet, to help you succeed, both in these trials and in your future. Professor Slytherin will seek ways to test you in his apprenticeship, dear girl, and I would not send you to face those tests on your own." The Headmaster drew in a breath and released it in a low sigh. Fawkes warbled once in the background. "Voldemort will return. I will arm you with every protection I can to protect you from his evil."

Harriet could only nod, the knot in her throat tightening at his mention of the Dark Lord. She didn't want to think about him returning. It filled her with a cold, unearthly dread that turned her limbs to lead and woke her in the dead of night. She kept remembering Slytherin's outstretched hand and the blast of Dark magic tearing through the Horntail's skull. Did Dumbledore really think she could ever match a wizard like that?

The muscles in Harriet's chest drew tight. Numbness buzzed in her skin.

"Harriet?"

"So is—is this going to be like an extra class?" she stuttered, forcing the words out. Dumbledore observed her over the tops of his spectacles before answering.

"Of a sort. We would have to arrange it around our schedules and yours, and I do not believe the meetings would be planned far in advance. The four of us will need to make concessions of our time."

Snape scoffed, looking away from the Headmaster. "As if we're not busy enough."

"Severus."

The Potions Master went silent.

"What will I be learning?"

"Transfiguration," McGonagall said, earning a wince from Harriet. "It is an effective tool when properly utilized against your opponents, and not easily countered."

"I'm terrible at it."

"You are not." Her voice came out sharp as a whip, and Harriet flushed. "I would not waste my time nor yours if I thought your energies better spent elsewhere, Miss Potter. I will tutor you, and you will do well."

"We are not concerned about your ability, Harriet," Dumbledore told her. "You're a very capable witch."

"I don't feel like it sometimes, sir."

"Every child who steps into this school starts on the same foot, and to do well, they need only have the willingness to learn." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, propping more of his weight on the armrest, hand folded under his chin. "Though it may be hard for you to imagine, those of us present were all eleven at one point in our lives, and our education began here at Hogwarts. Yes, we have many more years of practice tucked into our belts than you do, but our foundations were built here. We had our strengths and our weaknesses, and our professors helped us become the people we are today."

"And the Dark Lord, Professor? He went to Hogwarts, too."

"He did indeed. When he was still Tom Riddle, he was an exceptional student. He was curious, eager. If not for the Darkness that tempted him to become the creature called Voldemort, he could have done great things for our world."

At the wall, Snape shuddered at the name and shook a spasm from his left arm.

Harriet listened to what Dumbledore said, but she could not forget the years that separated them, the experience. She had to be better—do better—now, not in ten or twenty years. She wasn't sure she'd survive ten or twenty years. The reminder didn't inspire confidence in her heart.

"I wish to introduce you to more situational magic," Dumbledore continued. "I often find witches and wizards can underestimate the importance of flexibility in their spellcraft, and how such flexibility may help them overcome obstacles and more powerful adversaries. We'll speak more on that when the time comes. Professor Snape will be working with you on your dueling."

"Fighting," Snape corrected without missing a step. "If she was meant to duel, Flitwick would be here. Not me."

Dumbledore allowed the correction with a tired tilt of his head. Harriet wondered what was wrong with Snape and the Headmaster. The former could be a right bastard, but he usually showed more deference to Professor Dumbledore.

"D'you know what Professor Slytherin's going to make us do next?" Harriet asked, not meeting Dumbledore's gaze. "For his second trial? How many trials is he gonna have?"

"Three," Snape said from the window, the word cold and hard. "He will test your convictions next. He will want someone malleable enough to bend to his wishes, but Slytherin has no use for cowards—aside from target practice."

"Severus."

"Do you want me to lie to the girl?" he snapped at Dumbledore. "You were the one who compared him to a child earlier. And like a child, if he finds he has no further use for her, he will toss her aside. He will grow careless."

"Harriet's situation is unique. She has our support."

Snape sniffed. "How wonderful. Do you truly believe your support will spare her—or me—when he finally grows bored enough to kill us?"

No one spoke aside from McGonagall's severe, startled inhale. In the silence, Snape gathered his robes about himself and departed without further word. Harriet noticed his gaze had refused to settle on any person in the room for as long as he'd been there, but it touched on Harriet once as he passed. He disappeared out the door in a dramatic flap of black wool and harsh footsteps.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I know it is a difficult thing we are asking from you, Harriet," he told her with sincerity. "We are asking you to give much of your effort and to take risks we would usually dissuade you against. If I did not think becoming Professor Slytherin's apprentice would serve you well in the long run, I would not encourage you down this path."

"I know, Professor." Harriet stared at her hands, at the letter now deposited in her lap, the edges rumpled from her anxious handling. "May I go?"

"You may, if you wish."

Harriet stood and adjusted her satchel over her shoulder.

"You are free to come and speak with me whenever you need, Harriet," Dumbledore said as he stood to see her out.

"My office door is always open as well," McGonagall added. She remained in her seat, looking grim, as she reached again for the tea.

Harriet was lost in her own thoughts as she left the Headmaster at the door and rode the spiraling stairs to the gargoyle. She knew it had been too much to hope that Professor Dumbledore would change his mind and tell her she could drop out of Slytherin's competition. Some part of her, however distant, thought learning new magic from the Albus Dumbledore would be brilliant—but in a more immediate sense, Harriet just felt scared.

Scared she would fail. Scared she would disappoint those trying to help her. Scared she'd drag her friends—her family—into danger and wouldn't be able to protect them.

I don't know what I'm doing, she thought, shoulders slumped. But I can't give up. I won't.

Harriet heaved a sigh and shuffled her feet, trying to decide if she should brave waiting in the Defense corridor for Hermione and Elara, or if she should just go down to the dormitories.

"Potter."

She yelped and jumped away from the shadow peeling itself away from the wall. The shadow resolved itself into Snape, who gave Harriet a thoroughly unimpressed look as she clutched her chest. He had waited for her.

"Merlin!"

"Stop with your histrionics," he quipped.

"You scared me!"

He ignored her glower. "Tell me, Potter. Have you and your wretched little friends been helping yourselves to my stores again?"

"What? No, we haven't!"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "If you're lying to me…."

"I'm not," Harriet insisted, annoyed. "We haven't taken anything from you."

He continued to scowl for another moment, then made to sweep by her and leave. The conversation in Dumbledore's office came rushing back to her, overwhelming, and Harriet couldn't stop her hand from grabbing the edge of his robes, stopping him in his tracks.

Harriet let go. Snape didn't like her, and she didn't like Snape—but he was honest, brutally so, and less prone to fits of optimism like the Headmaster. "Professor," she said slowly. "D'you…do you think I can actually do this? That I actually stand a chance?"

Though Harriet had already released him, he snatched his robes farther from her, putting more space between them. "Don't ask stupid questions," he retorted. "You'll be fine."

"Really?"

"Did I not just say so? You should be far more worried if I discover you're lying to me about stealing my ingredients."

"I'm not lying." Harriet crossed her arm. "I would just ask."

His dark eyes flicked over her face, then away. "Go away, Potter."

Harriet hesitated, but Snape clearly had nothing else to say, and neither did she. She cast the Potions Master one final look, then left.


A/N:

Dumbledore: "Ah, Harriet, here for our important discussion."

Harriet: "I think Viktor Krum asked me on a date."

Dumbledore: "An important discussion that can wait for the TEA TO BE SPILLED."