~Harriet Azalea Potter~

"This one?"

She asked the adorable creature that was looking over her shoulder while floating behind her. He was a small and endearing thing covered in white fur, sporting permanently closed eyes, and a red nose that regularly twitched when he was excited about something. The ability to float and outright fly came from the strange but fitting batwings on his back. He could summon or hide on those at will. He was a member of a species called Moogles. One of the many Fae races saved by Hogwarts.

He enthusiastically answered with his catch phrase, 'Kupo!' that could very well be interpreted as a yes. He was a very young one amongst his fellows and one of the first born in the habitat created by the room instead of outside. This meant he was somewhat sheltered and not as wary as the older ones, but it was still surprising that he took a shine to her so quickly. Luna was absolutely thrilled about it, and now he liked to follow her around when she was in the room and enjoyed when she read aloud to him.

She looked over the book he had chosen and wondered why he wanted her to read him a book about large scale combat Magicks. She shrugged and put it out of her mind. The as-of-yet nameless Moogle wouldn't be able to do much with the knowledge since his race was more aligned to supporting Magicks and, to a lesser degree, magic of the mind in the form of telepathy, which was mostly limited to their own network. They could 'nudge' others but they couldn't outright communicate with other races.

As for how she met all those fascinating creatures? Some days ago, Winston took her on their first date and showed her some of the habitats that were supported by the room. She saw wondrous things like floating islands and magically created climates in vast territories that felt more like different worlds than a simple setting of the Room of Requirement. She was once again reminded that magic made everything possible as long as one's imagination could keep up.

She also couldn't deny that a major part of the fun she had that day was the boundless enthusiasm with which Winston introduced her to those things. While he was quite humble usually, downplaying and hiding his abilities as he only showed the tip of the iceberg, he was very clearly proud of what they were doing. And rightfully so, she thought. The number of magical species they immigrated and oftentimes saved from extinction was staggering. Moogles were among those and they were entirely too cute.

She wasn't usually one for cutesy things. She was a bit disillusioned from how the world operated and didn't like to pretend that innocence could survive long in today's time and age. But she had to admit, Luna's and Winston's efforts to preserve at least a corner of ancient and innocent magic tugged at her heartstrings. It also affirmed her feelings for the handsome and kind man. He told her he wanted to take it slow to give her the time to realise if what she was feeling was genuinely romantic interest or if she simply felt dependence because he was helping her and confused it with romantic affection. He wouldn't deny her, but he also wouldn't allow them to take the next step until they were both sure it was what they wanted.

She was touched by his care, but she was certain that that wasn't the case. Her feelings for him didn't drastically change, after all. It was just the natural progression of a crush to, well, more. She got to know him better, learned what made him tick and found that she liked what she saw. It wasn't a sudden or magical thing. But to communicate that to him, she would have to confess to her long-term crush. And she wasn't quite ready for that yet. She also wasn't against taking it slow. The intimacy was nice and cozy and it didn't have to be more than that immediately.

His gentle hugs made her feel all fluttery and the way he pulled her close when they sat and read on the couch together before kissing the top of her head made her face burn in the best of ways. The giddy feeling within her every time she thought of him was growing instead of fading and she loved it. Positive emotions also didn't seem as muted as they were before and she suspected that it was the Horcrux wasn't messing with her anymore. All around she felt more balanced than ever with people genuinely caring for her, her body slowly healing and her soul rejoicing at being freed from a burden she didn't even know she was carrying. Thinking of Winston, she inevitably started comparing their interactions with those she had with the male gender before.

Compared to the vibes she got from the few boys who approached her before, she felt as if she was safe with him. They wanted to either brag that they bagged and banged the Girl Who Lived or they wanted to gain access to the rather sizable fortune she would inherit with adulthood. From what she had heard, political clout was another reason since her grandfather, Fleamont Potter, was a powerhouse in the Wizengamot and there were still a few from the old guard active who would vote with the Potter seat.

She sighed, her mood souring a bit as she interrupted her reading. While her thoughts were elsewhere, she had sat down in one of those supremely comfortable armchairs by the magical fire that Hogwarts seemed to prefer. Her basic Occlumency allowed her to truly multitask. She could read and retain the knowledge as well as think about completely unrelated things at the same time. It was a nifty trick that Hermione would be jealous of. Ignoring the slight sting she felt at the thought, she turned her attention to Kupo, as she would call him until he had an official name, who made a curious and faintly worried sound as he looked up at her from her lap. She smiled at him gently.

"Don't worry, little one. I'm fine, just thinking about some frustrating stuff. Also, I have potions soon so my mood is naturally preparing for a nosedive. It's an instinct by now."

She was only partly joking but Kupo was mollified and made a supporting sound before flying off to who knows where. With a last smile, she started to reluctantly pack her things. Even with her new attitude and all the new and exciting joys in her life, she still was apprehensive when she thought of Snape. Her mum told her of what happened to him in their youth. How he was back then and how he changed. She also learned that his homelife wasn't the best and while she didn't have proof, her mum suspected physical abuse. She could sympathise with him since she despised bullies for a reason and lived through that very same kind of abuse herself.

Learning that both, her father and her godfather could be counted among the numbers of bullies was a hard pill to swallow but at least her father matured out of it. Sirius was still stuck in that time, though. As was Severus Snape.

She decided for herself to judge him based on his actions and not on her knowledge of his past. She recognised that the man had a miserable life but much of it was born from his own choices. He certainly had regrets but the callous and disregarding way he treated his students showed that he didn't learn from his experiences.

He became what he should have despised. An abusive adult and a bully who enabled other bullies, who was seemingly devoid of sympathy for anyone but his Slytherin. His House was out of control and their borderline-harassment was overlooked. It showed a lack of responsibility, and his behaviour was akin to a man child who never grew out of his teen years.

Deep in thought, she was nevertheless alert enough to stop her steps when Draco Malfoy suddenly appeared in front of her on the way to the dungeons. Curiously, she tilted her head a bit and asked.

"What do you want, Malfoy? I don't think I've done anything to provoke your oh-so-noble self recently?"

His eyebrows furrowed a bit but they quickly smoothed out and a smug grin appeared on his lips as he addressed her with his usual arrogant tone.

"Oh, nothing much really. I just wanted to show you my newest project. As you surely know, most of the student body doesn't accept you detracting from the real Hogwarts Champion, so I made this in the name of fairness."

He proudly stuck out his chest and showed off a badge that something written on it. She read it and couldn't help herself. She laughed. Loudly. After a minute or two, she got herself back under control and wiped a tear out of the corner of her left eye before thanking a fuming Draco.

"Oh, I needed that. Thank you, Malfoy, you made my day. Of course I'll support Winston. He is the real champion and I don't even want to be one. Can I get one? How much do you charge?"

He was looking truly thunderous by now, but kept himself under control. A nasty smirk spread on his face as he pressed his wand against the badge's surface. The writing swirled around and changed to 'Potter Stinks'. And she was a bit puzzled.

"Really? That's it? I expected something like 'Kill yourself to spare them the effort.' Or more personally. 'The Potters would be ashamed.' Heck, even 'Potter, the Friendless' would have hit harder. I'm... I'm not angry, Draco. I'm just disappointed. After all those years of you antagonising me, I kinda expected that you know me better by now."

She sighed before pulling out her enchanted moneybag with a slightly pitying look in her eyes.

"This is... cute, but honestly, it's a bit of a letdown. I'll still buy one, though. Since you clearly need the support."

She heard some snickers from the crowd that had curiously watched on. It didn't affect her. She did note who was wearing a badge and who wasn't though. It was always good to know who was tasteless enough to take to something like this. She ignored the minuscule feeling of relief when she noticed Hermione to be one of the few not wearing one and turned her attention back to Draco instead.

He was still looking a her incredulously and she decided to take things into her own hands. Asking one of the wearers how much he paid, he stuttered out the price of a galleon and she doubled it up and exchanged one of the badges with the coins, putting them into the little container he carried them around with.

"A little tip. As thanks for lightening my mood just before suffering under our favourite professor."

She patted his shoulder before continuing her way down to the dungeons, leaving him still kinda frozen in the hallway. She suppressed the giggle that wanted to rise in her as she thought. 'Why didn't I always deal with him like that? It's not just more fun and less stressful, it's also more effective!'

Not really thinking about it, she sidestepped the jinx that followed her without even slowing her pace. 'Childish...' she thought, not realising that the casual way she dealt with this encounter was engraved in the minds of those who were watching and observing.

With a new accessory on her robe, she crossed her arms as she leaned against the wall besides the entrance to the potion classroom. Maybe today was the day she'd get that Exceeds Expectations for the work that anyone else would grade as Outstanding?

~Hermione Jean Granger~

A sour taste was left in her mouth as she watched Harriet deal with Draco. She seemed more self-assured than ever and the relaxed posture spoke volumes of her state of mind. She knew her. She knew she didn't put in her name. But in a moment of impressively bad judgement, she accused her. She saw in her eyes the exact moment she lost her friend. And what did she do? Did she try to backpaddle? To somehow try to salvage the moment and rebuild by being honest? No, she doubled up, thinking that she was a lonely as herself and that they'd soon have the same or a better relationship than before.

After all, she needed to be humbled before she got a big head. It wouldn't do if she regularly outperformed her. Second place was good enough for her. Bitterly, she reminisced on her thought-process that evening. The pain in her eyes was what Hermione now saw in her nightmares. 'I'm a callous bitch and I didn't even know it...' she thought to herself self-depreciatingly.

A functional relationship had predetermined roles, was what she believed. She saw herself as the smart one, the one with the brains. And at first, that was what she was in their little group. But she noticed that Harriet was dumbing herself down. She wrote essays that were close to her own level only to hide them and quickly and carelessly putting one on parchment that would barely reach an acceptable.

She was disturbed that anyone would sabotage themselves like this and scandalised that she did this with the most sacred of callings in life: Academics! When she confronted her about it, she hedged around the topic and, after being hounded by her for several days, promised to do her best. For a while, their relationship was more harmonious than ever. It was a fantastic experience to share one's passion with another person.

But then it started happening. Harriet was outdoing her. It was just the practicals in some subjects at first, DADA and Transfiguration mostly, though it happened in Charms too from time to time. The first seeds of jealousy were already planted back then but outwardly, she praised her and that praise seemed to bolster her confidence, increasing her performance and, over two years, led to Hermione's 'Downfall'. Practicals were first, but soon, she'd gotten distinctions for essays that offered a more practice oriented point of view as opposed to the purely theoretical ones from her.

Because while Harriet wasn't as gifted as she was with theoretical retention and cross-referencing from memory, she was monstrously talented at casting. And her own instincts offered her a unique perspective that wasn't easily gained through book-knowledge. She felt threatened then. Her role in the friend group was that she was the intelligent one. The brainy one that the others asked for help. That role was in jeopardy.

Everything culminated in the final exams of their third year. She still had a slight edge in the theoretical side of things. But Harriet's practicals were overwhelmingly better. The overall score was rather clearly in her favour. Her fear and her jealousy led her to lash out then. She remembered the wobbly lower lip of Harriet from back then. The stubbornness to not let the tears fall. Instead she gave her a tremulous smile that caused a knot to appear in Hermione's insides every time she saw it in front of her mind's eye.

Determined to fix things after talking at the world cup, they met up at the start of the fourth year. Harriet even offered to fall back to old habits to keep their friendship intact. And much to her shame, she was tempted to agree. She didn't give in though and tried to be the bigger person. She tried to lay to rest her jealousy and her irrational fear. But it quickly flared up when she was chosen as a champion.

She always prided herself in keeping a cool head in stressful situations. But she severely fucked up that one. 'Language, Hermione.' She thought sarcastically, chiding herself for telling the truth. Now, watching her deal with Draco in a manner that would leave him smarting way longer than any physical wound could, she thought to herself that maybe she wasn't needed anymore.

She saw the signs. 'Harriet has found a friend or more than one. I have seen her with Winston several times by now, and the strange blonde one that is always around him seems to be friendly with her too. They look close... I've been replaced.' She admitted to herself and it hurt.

'but what if he's only using her vulnerable state to ingratiate himself? He doesn't seem to be the type, but it's possible, isn't it? If I can't be her friend anymore, the least I can do is protect her from scum. I have to make sure he has no ulterior motives.' Determination to do right by her former friend rose within her. She just needed to plan this carefully. He wasn't chosen as a champion for nothing. He was highly capable and skilled beyond even Seventh Years. If she wanted to get the drop on him, she'd have to be careful.

Just then, she saw Malfoy cast a rather nasty jinx at Harriet's back and wanted to call out a warning but the words were stuck in her throat when she saw her smoothly move out of the trajectory without even looking.

'He's teaching her.' Was her first thought. 'I'll need a lot of preparation.' Was her second. But she wouldn't give up. She'd make sure her former best and only real friend would be safe.

~Winston Whittaker~

He watched with bemusement as Harriet entered the small classroom where the Wand Weighing Ceremony was planned to take place. She kept them waiting for the better part of an hour and the officials were in a sour mood.

He looked at the tiny badge on her chest and suppressed the laugh that bubbled up. 'Oh, I need to hear the story of how that came to be.' He thought to himself, already planning to ask her later. Dumbledore stepped forward with a genial smile that seemed slightly forced.

"How good of you to join us, Harriet. Would you be so kind and inform us what kept you so long?"

She scrutinized him for a minute or so before she answered. He clearly wasn't used to such an attitude, especially from her, and he seemed to be a bit on the back foot.

"I simply didn't want to leave my workplace before I'd finished brewing the potion, Headmaster. The last time someone did, Professor Snape intentionally left the potion to boil over and took a sizable amount of House-points for risking the health of their fellow students. Nevermind that he was the one to send them outside for disrespectful behaviour. Neutralising the potion and cleaning up my workplace wouldn't have taken much less time so I opted to finish the brewing process before I came here."

The light smile on her face and the confident posture in combination with the respectful but not subservient tone in her voice underlined her well-chosen words. He was impressed. She didn't antagonise anyone, relayed only facts and still sent a heavy jab at Snape. She even remembered to use his title in front of the officials and the foreign dignitaries.

"I see. Well, since you are here now, let's start?"

He asked after Harriet quickly made her way over to Winston's side, standing closer to him than strictly necessary. He smiled secretly at her and lightly bumped her side, which she reciprocated. Dumbledore was on the receiving end of some grumbles but everyone wanted to get on with it so there were no real objections. First up was Fleur Delacour, who proudly produced her wand and handed it to Garrick Ollivander. The man curiously twisted and turned it with clear skill, peering into it's secrets without a single active spell.

"Rosewood, 9 and a half inches. Quite inflexible. The core... Oh dear."

He peered at Fleur and she stared back at him challengingly before stating in a tone that could be seen as somewhat confrontational. She was clearly used to see their traditional Veela practice of using the hair of their oldest living family members to be looked down upon.

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a Veela, one of my grandmuzzer's."

Ollivander wore a light smile as he answered quite sensibly.

"I've found wands made with this core to be temperamental and a bit unreliable, but familial bonds do play a role. The wand is well crafted and it chose you, so it will serve you well."

He conjured a glass, filled it with red wine, and took a sip before giving his verdict.

"It's in good working condition. No problems at all."

He handed it back and Fleur seemed to be somewhat appeased by his words. At least she wasn't bristling like a bird anymore.

Viktor Krum was next and Ollivander instantly recognised it as a creation of Gregorovitch.

"Da, it's one of his last."

Ollivander nodded before inspecting it.

"Hornbeam, 10 and a quarter inches. A bit thicker than usual and quite rigid. The core is a Dragon heartstring. Norwegian Ridgeback if I'm not wrong?"

After receiving a nod, he cast a quick Avis in Rita Skeeter's general direction, making her flinch in the process and glare at him, which he answered with a lackadaisical smile, drawing some suppressed chuckles.

"It's in fine working condition."

He told Krum and handed it back to him after which he returned to brooding darkly in the corner of the room. Now it was his turn and he walked to the front with assured steps. Ollivander's eyes lit up in reminiscence as he watched him ascend the ceremonial podium.

"Ah, you were a tricky customer! Those are my favourites."

He smirked before receiving his wand. It was true. He was in there for three hours straight until Ollivander pulled out one of his experimental creations.

"This wand is one of mine. It was crafted when I was still young. Oh, so young and ambitious. I wished to revolutionise the art of wand crafting! To push the limits of what is possible! After all, it's magic and the only limit should be one's imagination, no? And I succeeded! Somewhat, at least. This wand is one of five dual-wood wands I've created. I was so proud, back then. They were functional and strong. Only... they never chose a wielder. Until this fellow entered my humble shop. It warms my old heart that at least one of them found a home before my life ends."

The genuine gratitude with which he looked at him made Winston somewhat uncomfortable since he didn't do anything at all. The wand chose him and not the other way around. He also could feel Dumbledore's curious gaze on his back. That was actually a good development since the man didn't have time for him over the last week. Maybe that curiosity would give him an in to have a conversation with him. At last, Ollivander continued.

"Alder Wood and Hawthorn, 13 and a half inches. Due to the unique crafting process, it is quite flexible, but originally it was on the rigid side. As for the core? It is one of two tail hairs, willingly given by a unicorn mare. She was pregnant with twin foals at the time. A true rarity among this species."

Ollivander smiled at him as if he knew something Winston didn't. At his curious gaze, the smile transformed into a smirk before he continued with his showmanship. With a simple flick, he conjured a multitude of colourful lights before banishing them and handing over his wand.

"It is in fine condition. I hope it will continue to serve you well."

He said genuinely before laying his eyes on Harriet. Winston smiled at her reassuringly as they traded places with her flicking her wrist and removing her wand from her holster. The wand was another big change in this alternate universe. She didn't actually react all that well to the brother wand of Voldemort's, meaning she had another one entirely.

"Another tricky customer who forced me to re-evaluate them repeatedly. While your wand isn't quite as experimental as young Winston's, it is an unusual one too."

He took it from a somewhat uncomfortable Harriet who just wanted this to be over and done with. Something he could certainly sympathise with as it was no different for him. Inspecting it, the ancient wand maker started narrating as usual.

"This wand stems from a time where I liked to use many different woods and test out their compatibility with different cores. In that timespan, this is one of the few creations that produced exceptional results. And yet, it was picky. Very much so. It simply elected to collect dust instead of joining anyone on their adventure. Until you came in."

His piercing eyes rested once again on Harriet, who didn't avoid the stare at all. Impressive if one considered that the old fellow was quite unnerving.

"Silver Birch, 11 and a half inches. Flexible near the handle while growing more rigid towards the tip. And what do you know? It's core is one we already had mentioned today."

Now he knew why that old fox smiled at him. Winston knew she too had unicorn hair as a core, but he didn't know that they had sibling cores.

"As some of you might have guessed, yes. This wand contains the second tail hair of that very same mare. Certainly, magic works in mysterious ways."

His smile definitely had a mischievous quality now. There was mirth in abundance to be found in his eyes and it was clear that somehow, he had guessed their developing relationship. To be fair, he never tried to keep it a secret. But Ollivander only arrived today so either he was a supreme gossiper or he had other methods. 'Probably both...' He thought to himself while throwing the old man a somewhat unkind look.

The answer was a widening of his smile as he quickly produced and balanced a small tornado on the tip of the wand. 'Impressive control...' He absentmindedly noticed as he glanced at Harriet's back. 'She won't be upset, right?...' He thought a bit unsurely. He didn't know how she'd take having his sibling wand. It shouldn't be a big deal, honestly but it was unexpected and thus, her reaction was up in the air too.

"It's in good working condition. It will serve you well, hopefully for a long time yet."

He looked serious while saying that. It was his way of wishing her good luck for the competition and she bowed her head a bit in gratitude before taking back her wand and returning to his side. Surprisingly, she stood even closer than before and when he glanced at her, he couldn't help but notice the slightly red tinge colouring the tip of her ears. 'Oh, that's just adorable...' he thought to himself as he let their hands touch lightly without drawing attention to them. Except for a deepening of the red colouring her ears, she didn't react to his gesture.

'It's save to say she didn't react negatively...' He thought with an internalised wry smile as the ceremony was closed with some words from Dumbledore and Bagman. As soon as they were freed from their conventions, Skeeter hurried over as if she feared losing her life if she didn't.

"Harriet my dear, you wouldn't mind having an interview, would you? Let's get out of this stuffy room. I just know the place..."

Harriet had stiffened when the shrewd reporter simply grabbed onto her arm and tried to pull her with. He refrained from interfering after receiving a glance from Harriet. She wanted to do this herself so he wouldn't step in until she got really pushy. Which would happen quite soon, knowing her.

"I'm sorry but I don't even know you. I will not accompany a complete stranger to a location of her choice after I was entered in this tournament through unknown means. I'm a bit impulsive but I am not suicidal."

'Well said.' He admired. But it wouldn't be enough to get her off her case and Dumbledore didn't seem to be quite ready to break this up yet since he looked to be engrossed in a heated conversation with the officials present.

"Oh please. I know you are only playing hard to get. I am Rita Skeeter, star columnist for the Daily Prophet. I just have to interview you. There are so many questions to ask. The public has a right to know!"

And that was enough. Smoothly, he removed her probably painful grip on Harriet's arm without causing her any pain. Yet. He then placed himself between them and leaned forward to whisper into her ear before she could start to bluster.

"Oh, the international press would love this, wouldn't they? Girl Who Lived, harassed and coerced into giving an unwilling statement by an Insect of the press."

She was ready to scoff, he could see it, until his last words. She noticed the emphasis on that word. She suspected he knew. 'Well, let's make sure, shall we?' He leaned back and spoke a bit louder. Harriet heard him but no one else did. He'd tell her later on anyways.

"I can well remember a similar story about The Beetles making headlines in the mundane world. Surely, you are up to date, right?"

All blood left her face as she blanched stark white. Her colourful makeup stood in heavy contrast to her temporary vampiresque skin tone, leaving her with an unfortunate look.

"So... Let's end this today and maybe, if you are a good girl, we might arrange a meeting to discuss a factual interview for an article without fabrications and sensational exaggerations. Do you understand?"

She nodded stiffly before leaving without another word. He turned to Harriet, who looked at him with an unreadable expression. He smiled apologetically and explained.

"I'm sorry about that. She looked as if she wouldn't give up no matter what so I stepped in. Did she hurt you?"

While Harriet was a magical powerhouse, her body type didn't lend itself to physical confrontations. They were working on developing some muscle on her and to get her stamina further up, but body strength and durability wouldn't ever be her forte.

"No... Well, a bit maybe, but it's alright. I've had worse. Thank you for standing up for me in public."

'Oh, that again.' Decisively, he pulled her into a gentle embrace and she squeaked, surprised by the sudden action.

"Will you stop that?"

He asked of her with a low tone of voice.

"I've already told you that I won't ever hide being with you. There is no need to be overly careful or to avoid holding hands. I'm not at all ashamed to be with the brilliant witch you are. I already threw in my lot with you so I'll bear any and all consequences. I said it once and I will say it again. Public opinion is fickle. Do not let it dictate the way you live."

He didn't know if she heard any of that since she seemed to have melted into his embrace, abandoning any and all tensions she had collected over the day. He was slightly amused at the effect he had on her but even more so, he felt his own heart melt at the sight. It was becoming clearer and clearer that this wasn't just dependency from her side but genuine emotion. Which was good because he felt himself fall for her too.

He pulled back a bit, holding her carefully still to make sure she was still standing upright before releasing her. The rosy cheeks and the secret little smile she gifted him with that sparkle in her eyes honestly made his heart skip a beat but he didn't let it show on the outside, just giving her a little smile.

"Alright now?"

He asked and she mutely nodded. His eyes caught Krum's for a moment and the quidditch star gave him an amused look with a single raised eyebrow. The guy was having fun with this. The surly one was capable of fun, who'd have thunk? Harriet still had two hours of lessons left in the day, so they split up while he waited for Dumbledore. When he finally left the room, Winston caught up to his surprisingly quick steps. 'Quite spry still, old chap.' He thought amusedly before growing serious.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Whittaker?"

He asked, not stopping at all. He already had in mind what to say but before he could begin, Dumbledore continued.

"Before you start, I will have you know, I can and will not help you in dealing with anything pertaining the tournament."

He said this so utterly seriously that he couldn't contain the snort. That made Dumbledore stop and turn to him with slightly furrowed brows. His eyes glanced at Winston over his half-moon glasses and he seemed ready to scold him. This time, he was faster though.

"I already know about the Dragons and I have a plan to deal with each one of them. I do not need your help for the tasks. I want to have a serious conversation with you, away from prying eyes and alert ears. You are hard to get ahold of, however."

That seemed to have woken his curiosity and he hummed before seemingly deciding on something.

"Very well. I will make time this evening. Do you think an hour or two will be enough or will I need to order some pepper ups from Madame Pomfrey?"

He added in a semi-joking tone.

"I can't really say. The topics I want to talk about are a bit sensible and whether our talk will last until the morning hours or not is heavily dependent on if you see things my way or if I have to convince you. I can be a bit stubborn, you see."

He seemed to have taken it as a joke as he was laughing at his words but deep within these electric blue eyes of him, there was a calculating gleam to be found. He definitely has his attention now. He just didn't know if it was a good thing or not. After exchanging some more pleasantries and agreeing on an exact time, they parted ways and he returned to the Room of Requirement after sweeping himself and his things for foreign magic and finding nothing.

He was probably being a bit paranoid but better safe than sorry as they liked to say. He needed to make a pitstop to prepare for the conversation later on. That man survived multiple wars, fought some of the strongest Dark Lords, and gained the trust of an entire Wizarding Nation. Even internationally, he was highly respected. He was politically one of the biggest powerhouses, holding three important offices.

Anyone who can play the game this well knew how to lie. And while he did have some confidence in his ability to discern the truth, he knew he wasn't even close to matching the Headmaster in that regard. Luckily, he knew how to cheat. The Fae had a temporary ritual that was very nearly undetectable. It's use is quite simple. It aids in detecting the truth.

If the caster was lied to, even in an indirect manner, they would know. They would feel it deep in their bones. It was as if you added a temporary instinct for such things. While it was a bit hard to describe, it worked well and unless someone specifically scans for olden Fae Magicks that were facilitated through a Fairy Ring, it was undetectable.

Letting the Ritual settle, he played a bit with the Korrigans. They were rare wingless Fairies who lost the ability to freely fly in exchange for intuitive teleportation. They were friendly fellows, who loved to prank people. And in contrast to a lot of those mischievous Fae creatures, they knew to not go too far. Their pranks were generally harmless and they only grew vindictive when threatened or pressured.

After surviving their little prank war, he mentally readied himself for the encounter. He truly hoped the old man was simply overworked and naive but it was hard to believe. He sighed and, for the first time in a very long while, brought to light the full force of his occlumency. He permanently had a rather strong mind shield in place but true Occlumency was more than that.

Different schools of this hard-to-learn skill existed. Some masters built illusionary memories to fool those intruding. Some built winding channels of their most horrible fantasies that pulled in the aggressor and took them on a wild ride. Others simply made an effort to leave their mind completely invisible. It was a varied skill and what worked for one user might not have worked for another. The basics were the same for everyone but it branched out severely at a certain point.

Every approach had pros and cons. Illusionary memories could be seen through by those with exceedingly strong intuition for example, and those strong enough could break out of the nightmare they were subjected to. He himself chose to layer his mindscape. When someone intruded, they'd first see an expansive icy tundra in front of their mind's eye. There was only a single true entrance to the second layer while several others led to those nightmarish experiences he had in Luna's mind. And even if one found the entrance to the second layer, it was protected and encoded with binary script.

The other layers followed the same trend with the differences being more dangerous fantasies and differing settings, like tropic jungles and territories with increased 'gravity' and such. Every layer had concepts bound into them that he understood well, and only if their knowledge in that subject exceeded his own was the intruder save to continue. The only other way to penetrate his mind was overwhelming force and even Dumbledore and Voldemort wouldn't be able to take that path.

He greeted Luna, who had just arrived and immediately saw the signs that he was preparing for something big. Her Good Luck Hug was very much welcome and he let the warmth seep into him as he gifted her with a fond smile. She looked at him seriously.

"If you are in danger, do as the snorkack would and dash upwards. Your foes never expect it and it gives aerial advantage."

After handing out her strange brand of advice, she nodded once, bounced twice, and skipped away to care for some of the more finicky magical plants they were growing. While the room could simulate the environment and provide the magic, some had very specific needs that needed to be met. Both, Luna and him had some fascinating conversations with Neville Longbottom about those. His expertise helped them adjust things just right and he was always glad to help them with their floral worries. 'That guy truly has the greenest thumb of them all.' He thought to himself amusedly before leaving the Room.

He had the permission to use anything he wanted to use in this conversation by Harriet herself. He wouldn't put those diagnostics on the table before thoroughly clearing it up with her first. She was a bit reluctant but not as much as he thought. She was beginning to understand that her experiences weren't something to be ashamed of, but rather a reason to be proud.

She survived things that would have utterly broken a weaker person and while it left her damaged, she still used those horrific events she lived through to motivate herself. She yearned to be better than the worst examples of a human being. He put those thoughts away as he reached the stairway some minutes before the agreed time. Looking at the gargoyle, he was a bit surprised when it suddenly jumped to the side.

'Why give me the password when you inform the gargoyle to let me through without.' He thought to himself as he ascended the spiralling staircase. He was about to knock when he heard the old and wizened voice of the headmaster call out.

"Do come in, young Winston. While you are a bit early, punctuality is a dying virtue and I am glad you are cultivating it."

He entered the Headmaster's office and looked around the opulent room. It was truly a grand example of what one might have imagined when thinking of an Archmage's workshop.

The room was circular and not too big. It was full of delightful plays on clichés. The noises in the background were manifold, too many to pick out a specific one. Strange apparatuses, of which he only recognised a fair few, occupied nearly all the available space on those spindle-legged tables Dumbledore seemed so fond of. The entire room was well and warmly lightened and a magical fire was crackling away.

The center piece of the room was a claw-footed desk that was filled with documents and odd knick-knacks. Behind it stood a sturdy shelf in which the sorting hat seemed to rest. The walls that weren't occupied by an ungodly amount of books were plastered with the portraits of those venerable men and women who held the post of Headmaster or Headmistress before Dumbledore. Their collective snoring wasn't very convincing if he was to be honest.

He had visited the office several times over the past few years but it was always an experience. He looked over to the perch where Fawkes was cleaning his plumage and asked curiously.

"Isn't it dangerous to leave such a fire hazard this close to those precious books?"

The phoenix squawked indignantly at being called a fire hazard while Dumbledore seemed very amused as he answered.

"Do not worry, Mr. Whittaker. Any and all books in this room are charmed to be fireproof for that very reason."

The sound Fawkes released upon hearing that was far more menacing than he had thought him to be capable of. Clearly he didn't care for those insinuations. After needling the arrogant bird a bit, he measuredly approached the desk and sat down in front of it at Dumbledore's gesture.

"Lemon drop?"

He offered, and after a quick but reliable wandless diagnostic charm that only showed a heavily diluted calming draught, he answered.

"Don't mind if I do."

And took one. The Headmaster seemed honestly surprised for a moment before smiling. His impressive beard twitched with the motion of his lips and leaned back while speaking his thoughts.

"It is rare for someone to take me up on the offer. Though, I am grateful for the aversion since it leaves more for me. While I enjoy sharing their delight with others, they are not as cheep as they once were."

Winston deliberately let his eyes wander through the room before settling them on the Headmaster again with a meaningful gleam in them. The man chortled before answering his unspoken statement.

"Quite."

He quickly grew serious, however. Looking at him through his glasses, the sharp glint in his eyes belied the usual facade of the barmy old codger he liked to play. This man definitely wasn't senile, but he also didn't get the vibes of a machiavellian villain from him. It might all be a masterful performance but he seemed genuine in his behaviour and the ritual didn't pick up anything either.

Inwardly he decided to stop viewing the man in the light he was painted in by the fandom in his previous life. The conversations he had with the man were all civil, though frustrating. He wasn't treated discourteously but he always had the feeling that Dumbledore treated him with a certain aloofness, which was fair he supposed. From his perspective, he was talking to a self-important brat while he himself was an important and powerful figure in the international wizarding scene.

Even the most down to earth magical wouldn't put all that much weight on the opinion of a young student, especially since he was careful to not overplay his hand until he was absolutely certain he could protect his future knowledge, which was a certainty he only gained recently. He folded his hands on top of the table and caught Dumbledore's eyes. There was mild curiosity in his gaze, but no Legilimency Probe tried to overcome his shields. That was a good sign.

"Headmaster. As you surely know, I have taken Harriet Azalea Potter under my wing."

The ancient man nodded sedately. It was common knowledge by now that much of their time was spent together. As he had promised, he had neither the intention of hiding their relationship, nor the nature of it.

"I am also sure you remember the times I appealed to you because of the suspicions I had. That her behaviour was in lieu with the mannerisms of victims who suffered from domestic abuse."

His eyes grew serious and a bit exasperated but before he could interrupt, Winston removed the shrinking charm he had used on the diagnostics Luna had run. He handed them over to the man wordlessly and hoped he wasn't wrong.

As Dumbledore's eyes wandered over the parchment, he could see his hands begin to shake. The growing horror on his face and the palpable magical Aura that filled the room made him sigh in relief. This wasn't an act. He was genuinely horrified. Grabbing the Elder Wand with a tight grip to counteract his unsteady hands, he cast a verification charm. Then another and another. The last one was unknown even to Winston, bit that didn't surprise him much. The man was a font of knowledge after all. After the last one, he searched out his eyes and what Winston could see was that they were broken.

"But... But... They are family! How could anyone... Are they even human?..."

He was incoherently mumbling and slowly, the horror was being replaced by anger. His Aura grew stormy as his fury mounted and the instruments in his room started shaking as he was about to lose control. Winston leisurely cast a severely overpowered calming charm before stating mildly.

"Maybe, you should eat one of your lemon drops yourself. The Calming Draught might help."

Taking a shuddering breath, the man actually took his advice and threw several of the confections into his greedy gullet. Chewing them carefully, he leaned back while Fawkes trilled a note of peace and comfort.

Some minutes later, he calmed enough to turn his tired eyes back on him.

"Did you cast that diagnostic charm yourself?"

He asked in the tone of voice of a person, who was weighed down by his decisions. He sounded every year he looked as opposed to his usual calm but jovial nature. Winston shook his head and answered.

" While I could have, the person who has cast this is far more adept in healing than I could ever claim to be and more talented in the arts than anyone I've ever met. I won't give you their name until they agree to meet you, but rest assured that I would entrust my life and that of my loved ones to them without a moment's hesitation."

He nodded wearily. As the silence stretched into minutes, Winston took in the broken man in front of him. He was beginning to understand him a bit. In his mind, family wouldn't ever go as far as they did. Even after surviving for so many years and suffering through betrayal and heartbreak, he still wanted to believe in human kindness. He wanted to see the best in people and it somewhat blinded him to the evils of men.

For someone like him, that was surprisingly naive. He sighed into the silence as he massaged his temples. While it was a relief that the man in front of him wasn't one of the many iterations of evil that he was painted in, that brought it's own share of problems. Restarting the sleeping conversation, he spoke.

"You are a naive fool, Headmaster."

He heard a gasp from one of the portraits and some mutterings when they noticed Dumbledore nodding his head in agreement with a tired smile. He pulled himself together, and while he didn't manage to project the casual authority he usually did, it was enough to make Winston sit a bit straighter.

"Indeed. A naive and careless fool who subjected a bright soul to unmentionable torment. It will weigh heavily on my conscience as do many things. Alas, powerful as I am, I cannot change the past. All I can do is try to repent in the present and future. Tell me, young Winston. Why are you here, truly?"

He had his full attention now. Good. It was time to unveil some cards.

"First and foremost, are you using Harriet as bait in the tournament?"

His eyes widened in slight surprise and he opened his mouth to answer before stopping himself. He sighed and gave a wry smile.

"You certainly are a bright one, aren't you Mr. Whittaker? I wanted to try and overthrow the Goblet's decision, though the effort would have been most likely futile as you likely know."

He nodded. After talking about the artifact with several of the truly old fellows who relocated to the Room of Requirement, he learned that the contracts made by it were very nearly absolute. Only if Mother Magic itself intervened could the contract be broken. That never happened before and it was unlikely to ever happen.

"Alastor argued against it, stating that it is a prime opportunity to unveil those in the shadows. While I don't condone putting children into dangerous situations..."

He flinched at Winston's incredulous expression that he wasn't able to suppress, nor did he want to if he was being honest.

"Fair."

Dumbledore mumbled with a sigh before picking up his point.

"I will do everything I can to make this experience as safe as I can for everyone involved. I argued heavily against using Dragons of all things for the first task, but they ignored my words and refused to listen. It was honestly one of the most frustrating meetings I have ever had the displeasure of attending."

He released a frustrated breath. Pigheaded officials who wanted to make this a spectacle to draw in the masses. Nothing new, but dangerous nonetheless.

"You should know that I advised Harriet to simply try summoning the egg and forfeit once it doesn't work. That way she fulfills the contract and isn't subjected to an exceeding amount of danger. I am still training her up just in case, but I do not want to see her going against a Hungarian Horntail."

He looked puzzled for a moment before he understood and nodded seriously.

"It is rather likely to be her lot, isn't it? I'm glad that your advice was a sensible one."

A can of tea appeared on the table with two cups. The aroma was inviting and relaxing. Dumbledore's eyes lightened a tad and he smiled as he thanked the house elf, who was attentive enough to serve them without prompting.

"Thank you Mipsy. As always, you are a treasure."

He served first Dumbledore and then himself before taking a sip and releasing a pleased little sigh.

"Good tea. Thank you, Mipsy. I fear I'll have to ask you for the blend later on if it isn't too much of a bother."

Under the influence of good and calming tea, their conversation flowed naturally, discussing many a topic and traded a secret or two. They lost track of time until Dumbledore flicked his wand to check.

"We will truly need a Pepper up to stay awake during our respective days, I fear. While this was a pleasant colloquy, all things considered, I fear I'll have to cut it off here as it is quite late. I am at the age where I need more sleep than I normally get and cutting into it won't do anyone good. I will consider your words and I anticipate a grand performance from you."

He stood up and Winston did the same.

"I am glad that my worst fears were ungrounded. Having you as an enemy would have been challenging indeed."

There was a heavy kind of severity in Dumbledore's eyes when he answered.

"And I am glad you opened my eyes to the truth. I can only try to atone for the grave mistakes I made. Rest assured that she will never have to return to the prison I inadvertently sentenced her to."

He nodded and breathed a sigh in relief. There was no lie in his words. He meant it fully. A light glimmer of mirth returned into the old man's eyes when he continued.

"Though, only challenging and not impossible? You would have had to face not only me but Voldemort too in the long run. Do you truly think yourself capable of that?"

For just a moment, he stopped reeling in the presence of his magic in answer. Dumbledore's eyes widened when the controlled wave of magic washed over him before they softened.

"I see... It seems I can rest easier now."

He silently spoke, though his words easily reached Winston's ears. It seemed as if a weight that permanently burdened him was suddenly removed and he stood a bit taller for it.

"Have pleasant dreams, Winston."

He told him before lightly waving his empty hand. The door closed behind him and he continued on to his dorms with lighter steps than he had allowed himself in weeks.

~Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore~

"I made another fatal mistake it seems, old friend."

He addressed his familiar who trilled out a note of appeasement.

"So true. There wasn't a single fleck of darkness in his Aura. Who knew that there was such a powerful Mage hidden away in this Institution of Learning?"

A wistful smile appeared on his face as he allowed his guard to lower itself in front of the eyes of the former leaders of this venerable School. He had done many things in his life that he wasn't proud of. He fought in wars and he had to soak his hands in blood more than once.

He still firmly believed that there was good in everyone. Though, that belief was thoroughly shaken after today's revelations. He had been too lax in his dealing with the Dursleys. He hoped that his hands-off policy would make sure that they would treat her fairly as long as the magical world stayed out of their lives. He even applied a light binding on Harriet's core to keep the accidental magic to a minimum. Nothing dangerous, just a binding that would channel the overflowing magic back into the body to heal and maintain it to it's peak condition.

'It seems I overestimated Petunia's potential for kindness. Those diagnostics spoke a horrifying language.' He didn't doubt their validity at all after confirming their authenticity twice and searching out the recipient of the charms. It was without a doubt an expertly performed set of Diagnostic Charms from an experienced healer performed on Harriet Azalea Potter.

'I have been blind. And neglectful. My age is getting to me and I haven't felt as energetic recently. I'm spreading myself too thin. I need to focus my efforts.' He mused, already making plans to rectify his failures. 'Maybe I can't have Sirius tried in Magical Britain but bringing it up in the next ICW session should be doable. I just didn't want to risk them extraditing him to Britain. But since it will be my last act as the Supreme Mugwump, I guess I can call in some favours. Now, how to make sure that the next Chief Warlock isn't a Death Eater or a sympathiser.'

He decisively decided to drop both those two offices. 'I'll stay as the Headmaster of Hogwarts for a while yet. Guiding those young minds towards the light is more important than playing politician.'

The young man who just left his office delivered a splendid wake-up call to him and he wouldn't be able to look at himself in the mirror if he didn't act on it. It was getting harder to do so with every single day anyways. No need to weigh himself down even further.