clxxv. family problems

Something was bothering Harriet.

Even an idiot could see it, and Elara did not consider herself an idiot. Nor did Hermione, who unfortunately didn't have the tact to know when concern started to bleed into aggravation, and Harriet had clammed up after the fifth time Hermione asked her to divulge what happened in the classroom with Slytherin. So they spent most of their Astronomy lesson in tense, expectant silence, with Harriet marking nothing on her star chart.

When they returned to the dorms, the younger witch crawled into bed and closed her curtains, refusing to speak with anyone.

Something was wrong, but Elara wouldn't push her. She sighed and went to her own bed, and after tossing and turning for an hour, she fell asleep.

Too early in the morning, the carriage clock started screaming to wake the dormitory for breakfast, and Elara opened bleary eyes to the shadowed ceiling. Exhaustion sat on her like a fat, petulant gargoyle.

"I am going to kill that clock one day," she grumbled to no one in particular, listening to the others groan and complain as they roused from sleep. "I'm going to curse it right off the wall into a pile of splinters."

She sat up far enough to tug her curtains open. She glanced at Harriet's bed and found it empty.

Typical.

After bathing and dressing, doing her buttons up to the very top one and clipping her silver brooch chain into place on her collar, Elara went out in search of her wayward god-sister. She expected she'd need to visit the library or check the Aerie—but she was in luck. Harriet lurked in the common room at their preferred table, her face turned to the slow-moving water beyond the window.

She looked rather vulnerable, sitting alone with her knees folded up against her chest, the green illumination bright against her glasses. Dark furrows had grown beneath her eyes, and Elara guessed she'd gotten very little sleep. How long had she been awake, watching the lake?

"You're up early," she commented as she took her preferred seat, back to the wall so she could survey the rest of the room. Only a few others had drifted out of the dorms so far. Mallory Vuharith and Jacqueline Urquhart chatted by the main hearth, and Elara noted the painted serpent above the mantel focused intently on their conversation.

Harriet shrugged a shoulder. "Couldn't sleep."

"I'm surprised you stayed in the common room."

"With all the bloody Aurors hanging about, it's impossible to go anywhere without someone watching," she sighed, leaning her chin on her fist. "Even if I use the Moon Mirrors, I have a decent chance of colliding into one of Gaunt's snooping numpties on my way out."

Elara laced her hands against her middle and leaned back, slouching several inches in her chair.

"Where's Hermione?"

"Elbow-deep in her carrel, last I saw. Trying to fit far too many books into her satchel."

Harriet let out a fond huff, and the morose air about her lightened. "We should split the cost of a bag with a good Extendable Charm for Yule. She'd like it."

"We can't make it ourselves?"

"No. The spellwork is nasty. I asked Professor Flitwick about it a while ago and got stuck in a thirty-minute conversation about the Alteration branch of Charms and the standards set by the C-triple-M guild." Harriet wrinkled her nose. "He made me promise not to try it, lest I start collapsing time and space or whatever."

Well. Elara hadn't known that was possible and found herself less keen on experimenting with those forms of Charms.

Harriet stretched, uncurling from her cramped position to put her feet on the floor. She snuck a hand under her glasses to rub at her eyes, groaning, and Elara watched her. Of course, she wanted to ask Harriet about yesterday afternoon, but she bid her time, letting Harriet come around to the conversation on her own time. Besides, Hermione would be out soon, and her concern did not have patience for pointless prevaricating.

"How has your Animagus training been going?"

Harriet's gaze snapped about the room on instinct, ensuring no one had wandered into hearing range. "A bit shit, really."

"Why?"

"I'm not great at the meditation. My head never gets quiet enough."

Elara passed a hand over her mouth, thinking. She tapped a finger against her lips. "Perhaps you should try a different kind of meditation."

Clearly that answer puzzled Harriet, for her face scrunched in confusion. "There's different types?"

"Yes. There are many types. I have a book on how they vary—mind, it was written by an obscene augur obsessed with Divinations. He makes Trelawney sound as no-nonsense as Snape, but when you get through the effusive drivel, it's quite informative."

"That sounds useful—and bizarrely funny. Worse than Trelawney, really? Can I see it?"

"Of course."

A few more tired souls began trickling into the common room, Hermione among them. She had two scrolls in hand, fussing with the heavy bag hanging off her shoulder as she tried to find room for the scrolls.

"Oh!" she said as she lifted her head and spotted the pair of them waiting by their usual table. "Good morning. Harriet—you look terrible! Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Nice to see you too, Hermione. Lovely morning."

"Don't be ridiculous. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

Harriet released a loud exhale as Hermione found a seat, and the bag hit the floor with a thump. "I'm fine, really," she promised, cutting off Hermione's next stream of concern. "I had a lot on my mind."

Hermione glanced at Elara, who made a discreet tip of her head to the side, then flicked her eyes toward Harriet.

"Do you want to tell us what happened now?"

"Not really." Harriet laughed, a hollow, humorless noise. "I guess I need to, though. After Slytherin spoke to me, I ran into Snape, and he took me to Dumbledore." Shifting, she picked at the hem of her skirt. "Slytherin said he wants me to enter his competition, and Dumbledore wants me to do it."

Elara flinched. What? "Is he mad?" she asked, not entirely certain whether she meant that in jest or not. She usually expected the Headmaster to make sound decisions, even if she didn't fully understand his thought process, but this—.

"He thinks I'll need the training," Harriet replied. "That I—that I need to learn how to protect myself against him, and who better to teach me than Slytherin himself?"

"And so he believes throwing you headlong into the wolf's mouth will do the trick?" Elara demanded, brow raised. "Ridiculous. Tell me you told him no."

Harriet didn't respond.

After a hesitant moment, Hermione said, "It…it makes a terrible form of sense," and immediately raised her hands when Elara's head snapped in her direction. "Not that I completely agree, but...theoretically, if Harriet were his apprentice, then wouldn't Slytherin be obliged to keep her safe? A master is charged with their apprentice's well-being."

"Hermione," Elara said a bit too sharply. "Are you being serious?"

"Well, this isn't exactly the time to be silly, is it?" she retorted. "Defense Masters are under the Circle of Magical Mastery and Manifestation's legislation and are charged with maintaining their apprentice's health."

"And professors are under the legislation of the Headmaster!" Elara waved an agitated hand. "We've witnessed exactly how much power Dumbledore has over Slytherin, and they reside in the same castle. How much influence do you think the Circle would have without direct proximity? Truly?"

"All I mean to point out is, in this speculative situation, Slytherin would be culpable for keeping Harriet safe from You-Know-Who! Too many complaints, even anonymously given, would create problems for him. If they revoked the certification on his mastery, he could lose his position, no matter who he has in his pocket."

"Your speculative situation is nonsense, and I highly doubt Slytherin's mastery is legal to begin with, no matter his apparent skill. He is You-Know-Who. Harriet can't very well be kept safe if she's being bludgeoned half to death by Slytherin's informative teaching methods!"

"Honestly—!"

"Can you two lower your voices?" Harriet grumbled. "For Merlin's sake. Don't talk about me like I'm not sitting right bloody here and didn't already have this conversation with the Headmaster."

"Did you have an actual conversation, or did he speak at you and sound incredibly wise but otherwise full of himself?"

Harriet glared at her. "Don't talk about the Headmaster like that. He's not perfect, but he's the reason I'm not stuck in an orphanage somewhere or locked up for Gaunt to poke and prod at."

"He's the reason you went to the Dursleys in the first place."

Harriet's eyes narrowed, and Elara thought they appeared red, if only for a moment, and assumed the light of the fire in the far grate cast reflected oddly in her glasses. Harriet drew in a breath and said, "I'm aware. It's also not the point of what we're talking about."

"No, we're talking about you doing something stupid simply because the Headmaster told you to."

"Elara, that's enough," Hermione interjected. Elara rounded on her.

"And you're encouraging it!"

Harriet snapped, "Quiet!" and Elara had enough of her wits to look about and see subtle, curious eyes turning to their usually quiet corner of the room. Glowering at the nosy idiots, Elara gathered her composure and straightened her spine.

"Listen," Harriet continued in an undertone. "I'm not a half-witted child who hasn't thought about this for hours. And it's not Dumbledore's intention for Slytherin to protect me or whatever rot. He wants me to learn, and I—." She paused, frowning for a moment. "I don't like it. I don't want to even consider it, and really, it's silly to think I could win the competition. I don't know what it entails, but I'm only a fourth year, and it isn't like Slytherin would make it easy."

Elara could concede to that. She'd imagined from the outset that Slytherin had something cruel and demeaning planned for his prospective apprentice; after all, it wouldn't do for their ego to swell too much. They'd win the competition and immediately be reminded of their place.

"I don't know if I'm going to enter, even if it brasses Slytherin off. But Professor Dumbledore…he gave me a lot to consider. Every year, I end up helpless to something or someone, and if it's possible I could use this situation to my advantage…." She exhaled, resigned. "I'm tired of always being too weak or too slow or too stupid. It'd be nice, just for once, to have the upper hand."

"But at what cost? He's a deceptive b—." Elara's mouth closed around the curse, her lips twitching. "A deceptive degenerate. Would he teach you anything worth knowing? Or just keep you under his thumb?"

"I wouldn't envy anyone trying to keep Harriet under their thumb. It would never be allowed," Hermione said. "That's Professor Slytherin's greatest failing. Don't you see? People like him, wizard or Muggle, depend on isolating their victims to make them more malleable to their whims. Harriet would never be alone. She would always have us."

"We cannot be there all the time, Hermione."

"I'm not afraid of him," Harriet replied. "I am not brave, but I am not a coward."

"This has little to do with cowardice or bravery or any Gryffindor posturing. It's about it being a supremely foolish idea to play Slytherin's games."

Their conversation came to a natural close as more students entered the common room, and it became difficult to maintain privacy. Harriet disappeared with a vague mention of not wanting breakfast, which wasn't uncommon when she was stressed. Hermione ran off to the dormitory searching for a book she'd forgotten, leaving Elara alone with her thoughts.

She stood by what she'd told them both; nothing good would come from indulging in Slytherin's schemes, but she wasn't as short-sighted to say snubbing Slytherin would be the better option. Even with a good excuse, the professor would feel slighted, and Elara wouldn't put it past him to spend a lot of energy on being petty.

What would be better for Harriet to endure? Pettiness or positive regard?

Her god-sister might claim not to be frightened, but Elara was. She didn't want Harriet to be brought to Slytherin's attention any more than necessary, and she definitely didn't want her involved in anything touched by the Dark Lord.

Life, however, had not been kind to Harriet. She'd been marked as a child for some horrid destiny, and Elara couldn't say it was better to avoid Slytherin now in hopes of diverting danger when danger would find Harriet eventually. It was as inexorable as the steady march of time.

Elara shut her eyes against the headache already brewing in her skull.

"Are you coming to breakfast?" Hermione asked when she returned, her bag now shut snug. Elara blinked, hearing the hidden wall entrance to the common room open and close as people drifted out into the outer corridor, and she looked up at her friend.

"Yes," she sighed, standing. "I won't be able to get through Defense without something in my stomach. Even if he only has us reading again."

"I never thought I'd be pleased to have a teacher who doesn't teach." Hermione frowned. "Though, him having us sit quietly at our desks commonly means his temper is worse than usual. He certainly isn't pleased about the Aurors."

"Nobody is."

After leaving the common room, they climbed the steps behind most of their House, lost in their respective thoughts. Near the entrance hall, Hermione paused to look at Elara.

"I'm going to sit with Terry," she said. "We wanted to go over a bit of the Herbology essay before class today."

Elara cocked a brow. "Terry, hmm?"

"Yes. Why?"

"That essay excuse is convenient, considering I know you completed it on Friday. If you want to spend time with him, you don't have to pretend you're studying."

Hermione's cheeks darkened so much Elara could see the change even in the dim light of the corridor. "I don't know what you're talking about," she sniffed. "Besides, you seem to rather enjoy studying with Sophie Roper in the library, and you don't see me commenting on it."

Alarmed, Elara caught her by the elbow, holding her back as the others continued forward. "It's not the same thing," she hissed. Hermione shot her a knowing look.

"Isn't it, though?"

Heat stole through her face until Elara could feel the blood pounding in her ears. A mortified weight crept along her spine, the likes of which she hadn't experienced since her days in the orphanage, constantly wary of being called a monster. "Hermione, I don't—I'm not—."

"It's fine. Goodness." Suddenly, Hermione linked her arm through hers, and Elara stumbled from the height difference. She could feel perspiration building beneath her gloves despite her fingers going numb. "Let's go have breakfast."

"I…."

They kept walking, the chill in the dungeons doing nothing to steal the heat from Elara's face, though her heart slowly returned to normal. "I don't have to sit with Terry," Hermione said, nonchalant. "You're right about my essay being complete."

"You can have breakfast with him if you want."

"It's not necessary—and besides, we have better things to be doing this morning." A sly grin tipped Hermione's mouth as they came into the foyer proper, the smells of breakfast drifting through the Great Hall's open doors.

"Such as?"

"Plotting how best to keep Harriet out of trouble, of course. Somebody has to do it, and it's going to be us."