The next few years were not very remarkable for Harriet. At least, that is what other people thought. Neighbors always looked down at Harriet for being that 'troublemaker kid' who that nice lady Petunia housed. And it wasn't like Harriet acted any different to their expectations. She loitered around the park when it was empty and dark. She was regularly greeted by her neighbors but never responded. How rude. And Mr. Perkins fully believes that she has been the one who has been raiding his herb garden. (However, the gossip mill only works when the accusations against the victim sound plausible. A ten year old messing around an old man's herbs doesn't sound very realistic.) Her school teachers had problems with her getting to participate in class. In class, group activities were never completed, even when they moved her into different groups. Harriet hardly ever spoke, always doing her work silently. A brilliant child, her teachers would say, but too quiet. Harriet would fill out her tests and complete her homework (if it wasn't stolen away by her cousin to be cheated off of), and so her teachers decided that it was best to leave her alone.
And Harriet rather preferred it that way.
In all sense of appearances, Harriet fulfilled the expectations of others. Whether or not if her neighbors believed that she was a hooligan, she sort of fit into that role. Her teachers let her be the studious quiet type, off in the corner reading. Hell, the cashier at the grocery store thought that she was a responsible kid for picking up food for her family and Harriet acted like it. She didn't really mean to do this, it was all sort of accidental. Perhaps it was because she had stopped caring about the opinions of others. When it came down to the fact that nobody could or would bother enough to listen to her, Harriet had done the same to the rest of society around her. And that somehow made her fall into her niche. Everybody had an opinion about her, and Harriet didn't care enough to tell them otherwise.
Which also included her family. Aunt Petunia was convinced that her niece was a freak, and her husband and son picked up that opinion and ran with it. Harriet had long since dropped any sort of affection for her relatives. They were just people that she lived with and occasionally tormented. Although the tormenting happened often, just without them realizing it. Harriet had been called a freak almost every day of her life, and so when it came to her 'freakiness' Harriet threw herself into it. Ever since Harriet had found her mum's school trunk, she dedicated herself to learning and exploring its contents.
At first, it had been hard. Figuring out how to make a potion, which potion to make, what ingredients did she have near her to use, when she could brew it without her aunt noticing- it was a struggle. But Harriet could recall the first time she had accidentally melted the pot on the stove. And the resulting rash on her arms when she had to use some of her old rag clothes to mop it up. If she had used towels then Aunt Petunia would have noticed them missing and the blame would have fallen on her again. It still did, when the absent pot was noticed. The second time was better because Harriet figured out (by practicing whenever she made the Dursleys food) the proper cuts and techniques for the potions ingredients. Thankfully, Dudley had never questioned why carrots were cubed, and the Dursley's had left her alone on that part.
The second time that Harriet tried her hand at a potion, it wasn't perfect. In fact, she was halfway convinced that she made some sort of poison. Harriet at the time didn't actually want to kill her relatives, and so she decided to test it on Miss Figg's cats. The cat survived and went home with an upset stomach, and Harriet truly figured out the real power that she held in her hands (after she washed them because, wow it was gross).
That night, all of the Dursleys had explosive diarrhea. There were only two bathrooms in the house.
Harriet stayed awake that night, listening to the muffled movements and the curses that floated down the stairs. She stared at the ceiling in the dark, a wide triumphant smile on her face. That night all she could think about was how she had done this. She was the one at fault. And it was wonderful knowing that.
And from there Harriet's mind seemingly exploded with ideas of all the mischief that she could cause. At age seven, she knew she couldn't do anything absolutely mind-boggling. Real magic that could make rocks turn into dogs, or chairs dance when you sit in them, they were off-limits. But it was the small things. Harriet didn't even have to use potions to cause trouble in the Dursley household. The salt shaker was jammed (Harriet had found Uncle Vernon's superglue in the garage) when Dudley wanted it. That meant Dudley had a meltdown and Uncle Vernon doing his best to twist the top around until the metal inside of it snapped. It's happened twice now. Or when Harriet would leave the toilet seat up. Aunt Petunia hated it. She always badgers Dudley or Vernon to stop leaving it up. Once, on a memorable day, Aunt Petunia hadn't noticed that it was up before sitting down. It was one of the most brilliant days Harriet could remember. She could still hear Aunt Petunia's shriek of disgust and shock echo throughout the house.
Every once in awhile, Harriet would break out the big guns. Especially if her relatives had blamed her for something that she didn't cause, or if they hurt her simply because they felt like it. Now that she was a little bit older, they were comfortable in demanding her to do chores and then leaving her to do her business. Harriet guessed that they were so used to having a slave around that they didn't really notice her anymore. But the few times that they did ended up badly for Harriet.
And so bad things started to happen around the Dursleys. Oh? Dudley breaks out in a rash from touching a strawberry? Take him to the doctor immediately! (Ironically, Harriet had doused the strawberries in a potion that would cause hives. Turns out he's hypersensitive to ginger that caused the rash. In the end, strawberries were banned from the house because the doctor declared Dudley to allergic to them.) Uncle Vernon had to wake up early for his job? Oops! He slept in. Aunt Petunia wanted to go gab with the neighbors? Oh no, she suddenly felt sick and stayed in the house that night. (Harriet had doused her hairbrush with a particular potion that would give the recipient a bad hair day. It was wonderful and Harriet figured out that her Aunt looked awful with frizzy hair.)
By the time that Harriet had hit nine, she felt rather bored by her potion abilities. She had spent nearly every night for years consuming her mum's books on potions. She loved 'Ingredients and Why They Do What They Do' the best, but the rest were insightful on why certain potions also needed to have counterbalances in order for the potion to have the right end result. The books that introspectively looked at potions were her favorite, rather than the books for school. Those seemed dumbed down and didn't teach much about the logistics of potions.
And so, at age nine Harriet figured out that she wanted to create her own potion. Her very own brand of mischief. Armed with her knowledge and having the small disadvantage of having absolutely no magical ingredients whatsoever, Harriet was determined that she would succeed. She picked out her main ingredients. Allium cepa. Phaseolus vulgaris. Onions and beans. Then her second string of components followed shortly. Saccharum officinarum which is sugar cane, milk, and egg yolks.
Onions and beans cause gas. Sugar cane (which Harriet figures white sugar should be a good substitute), milk, and egg yolks were more of a delayed factor. Adding in a few other pieces, like thyme and cherry pits, Harriet figured that she should be able to make a potion that could cause the biggest smelliest farts but interspace them so that it'll happen at inopportune moments.
When Aunt Petunia was at her class, Harriet pulled out a pot that she had smuggled from a neighbors house (when she had been invited there for a drink of water, bless you Miss Figg), and began on her first batch on what she hoped to call the 'Tooting Potion.' It failed, and Harriet had to find another pot before she could make her next batch. Miss Figg couldn't figure out where her pans were going to and kept replacing them.
Harriet was nine and a half when she finally succeeded. She kept it, like all the others, in mason jars that she hid in the crevices in her cupboard. The beams supporting the weight of the stairs crisscrossed and made little hidey holes where Harriet could store her supplies and whatever magical book she was studying at the time. And throughout those six months, Harriet dove deep into the philosophical and theoretical ideas of potion-making. And by the time that she emerged with her hand tightly wrapped around a jar full of green liquid, Harriet figured out what she wanted to be in her life.
Something about the potions clicked inside of her. Being able to problem solve and push through her failed experiments over and over again ignited a flame that intertwined itself into her very being. Harriet loved the process of making a potion, and she was able to learn so much about it by simply being able to make her own creation. Looking back at it now, Harriet couldn't tell you why she had to stir three times clockwise, and then once more after five seconds. But now she could say it was because the potion needed four stirs to properly dispel the solution that was forming on the top, however causing it to over stimulate will agitate the temperature into flexing and thus would decrease the quality of the potion. Allowing it to wait five seconds before the fourth turn would allow it to regain equilibrium. Before Harriet was simply good at potions because she followed the instructions left to her. Now Harriet was great at potions because she simply knew too much about them.
And as for the tooting potion, well. Harriet liked to save it for when Aunt Marge appeared with her mutt. The dog hated her, and Harriet felt the same. However, Ripper also found out that Harriet could taste really bad if it tried to bite her. (Thank goodness she had leftover jalapeno pepper oil that she had smeared onto her pants.) Aunt Marge has yet to learn that lesson. Even when Ripper figured that she was too much of a hassle to mess with, Aunt Marge took cheap shots at Harriet. Even Aunt Petunia didn't talk about Harriet's mum. Maybe because she felt guilty for abandoning her sister after her fifth year at Hogwarts. Perhaps it was leaving Lily to take care of their ailing parents, and only coming to the funeral afterward. Petunia had left her sister long ago and simply didn't speak about her. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, couldn't stop herself.
Harriet didn't hold back much. Whatever could go wrong went wrong when Marge was around. Harriet made sure that she was far away when these things happened. As stupid as Uncle Vernon was, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that a bunch of coincidences and bothersome things happened too often when Marge was around. Conveniently, Harriet was out weeding the garden when Aunt Marge's chair gave out from under her after breakfast. Harriet was at home, locked in her cupboard when they were all at a restaurant and Aunt Marge ripped a fart so bad that it knocked the wine glasses off the table. Oh would you look at that, Harriet was chatting with Miss Figg about her cats when Aunt Marge began to break out in hives. And Harriet was at school when Ripper got diarrhea on Aunt Petunia's ivory carpet. She couldn't have possibly done any sort of 'freakishness' around Marge when she was here. Harriet was sure to keep an alibi around her.
As much as Harriet wasn't a fan of Marge, she also had a feeling that Aunt Petunia felt the same. Although for other reasons, probably because Marge said that Vernon could have done 'so much better.' And so Aunt Petunia was happy to kick Marge out after Ripper stained the carpet. Of course, play bitch games, win bitch prizes. Harriet had to clean the carpet in the end. But it was well worth it to get that evil lard out of the house.
At nine and a half plus three days, Harriet figured out what new potion she wanted to make next. And through trial and error, it took her nearly an entire year to make it. Turns out, Harriet jumped up three different levels of difficulty in potion-making when she decided what she wanted to create. However, she figured she already got this far then she should at least finish it. The main idea of the potion that she wanted to create was to make the recipient tell the truth without realizing that they were spilling their secrets.
Turns out that potions have a whole different side when it came to manipulating the mind. Body functions were simple enough, it was just trying to get the timing of the potion down. Causing people to sleep deeply? Easy peasy. Having a potion that would react badly to hair, it's pretty clear on what to do. But when it came to shaping the mind it was like playing a different ball game.
Funny enough, it was the Quibbler magazines that helped Harriet the most. By this time Harriet had read all the books that were about potions in her mum's trunk. Although it was a great collection, it didn't hold the answers that Harriet was searching for. After a few rough days in a row, Harriet figured that she needed a break and took out a few magazines to peruse through. And from there, Harriet found the answers that she needed. Turns out there is a huge extensive selection of surveys of plants, animals, and most importantly, the effects of the moon on all of them. Harriet learned so much about the moon cycles and their effects on plants that she a bit miffed that none of her mum's books had talked about it. The best part, in Harriet's humble opinion, was the pictures. Some of them were clearly hand-drawn, but others were wizarding photos that moved and interacted with each other. Harriet's favorite edition of the magazine had a manticore and a griffin fighting each other. The manticore's page was torn to shreds and the griffin would come out of its fancy forest page to duke it out on the article for middle age baldness and why it was caused by the nixies.
Looking into the subtleties of potion-making, and waiting a few months for the right moon phase, Harriet was finally able to create her potion. She wasn't very good at naming things, and just called it the 'Truth Potion.' The dangerous part of the potion was that it had several harmful ingredients that could be dangerous if consumed in large quantities. The thing is that Harriet had no idea what could be considered a 'large quantity' and needed to test it out before she used it on her relatives. If something bad happened to any of them, they would quickly turn on her and Harriet would rather avoid her relative's wrath.
Which led to the present day. Now ten and a quarter, Harriet clutched her battered notebook and a small bottle of her truth potion to herself as she quickly knocked on the door. She gazed around the small neighborhood covered in snow, the walkways cleared but for a few patches of ice. Number Four looked pristine, just as Aunt Petunia liked it. Harriet had spent most of the morning shoveling the snow from the driveway with a thin jacket on and a pair of too-big rubber boots in hopes that the wet slush wouldn't get her feet wet. It worked as much as Harriet could hope, with frozen feet and stiffness in her joints.
After waiting for a few seconds, the door opened and Miss Figg, the frazzled neighbor that always spied on her, smiled at her. "Harriet! I saw you earlier. How are you?"
"I'm fine." Harriet forced a small smile at her. "I was wondering if we could have some tea and talk about Miss Frizzle's declawing appointment that you mentioned a while ago."
"Of course!" Miss Figg smiled. "Come on in. I'm always happy to talk to you." She stepped back and bent over to pick up one of her numerous cats.
Harriet entered. She was familiar with the house. Packed wall to ceiling with boxes and stuff, cat hair embedded in everything, and the stuffy feel of having a bunch of animals in a closed space. Due to Aunt Petunia's strict cleaning regimen, Harriet was a little repulsed by the garbage and litter that was strewn across the small house. Still, Harriet was here for a purpose.
"I'll put the kettle on. You can go sit on the couch." Miss Figg called behind her and Harriet made her way into the living room. A white cat, a familiar face to Harriet (as Miss Figg always had too many cats for Harriet to keep track of) looked at Harriet with disdain on its face before hopping off the couch and walking away.
You feed a cat a magical laxative once and they hold a grudge forever.
Harriet sat at the edge of the seat, uncomfortable. She fingers fidgeted with the pen and notebook, wondering if this was really the right thing to do. But then again, nobody would really know. Unless Miss Figg dropped dead from drinking her potion. Harriet figured that it was done, it looked and smelled right. But she didn't actually know if it was completed all the way. Using her neighbor, one of the kinder (but weird) ones, as a guinea pig didn't sit right with her. But Harriet couldn't use one of her cats (like she always did), nor could she use anybody around her in a normal setting. Miss Figg was the only one who didn't have people around her constantly to see if she was acting strangely. And it wasn't like Miss Figg was holding the darkest secrets of the world, she was just the weird old cat lady on the street.
Miss Figg returned with two teacups, three cats trailing behind her. One of them also took another look at Harriet before hissing and running away. Harriet vaguely recalled that cat when she was trying to figure out why her tooting potion wasn't delaying. That poor cat didn't learn very fast and kept on coming back to Harriet with her piece of doused bread. It finally got the lesson when Harriet fed him a piece of bread and he had farted so loud he scared himself.
"Oh, I don't know why he did that." Miss Figg commented, her face full of concern. "Phillip is usually such a sweetheart." Harriet saw her chance.
"Maybe you should go look? Maybe he got scared?" Harriet softly replied.
"You're right." And Miss Figg set the teacups on the coffee table and wiped her hands on her shirt. "I'll be right back."
Harriet didn't reply when Miss Figg disappeared again. Again she paused, weighing the choices before she finally figured that she'd only add just a touch of the potion. If there was only a little then perhaps it wouldn't be too extreme. Harriet pulled out one of the teacups spoons and fumbled with the small bottle that held her potion. She carefully poured enough for the spoon to be full and quickly stirred it into the tea. There, only a spoonful. It shouldn't be too harmful. She slipped the bottle back into her jacket pocket and waited.
Harriet picked up the other teacup and held it in her frozen hands. The warmth almost hurt, but it was a good kind of pain. She even took a few sips, grimacing as she found a cat hair in her mouth and decided that maybe she shouldn't drink it. Holding the warm cup was a comfort on its own.
Miss Figg returned soon after that. "I don't know what got into him. Phillip doesn't mind strangers at all."
"Perhaps he's being picky?" Harriet shrugged. She watched carefully as Miss Figg settled down in a plump stocky chair and picked up her cup.
"That could be it." Miss Figg agreed and took a sip. Harriet observed, carefully mentally noting everything, but Miss Figg didn't notice anything wrong with her tea. "Anyways, Miss Frizzle's declawing appointment. I'm so sad that I have to do it. But she's a cat. And they do what they like to do, and I can't have her scratching up the neighbors."
Harriet hummed and nodded when she had to, but otherwise stayed quiet throughout the ordeal. An inkling of thought came to Harriet… how on earth could she tell that Miss Figg was spilling her secrets? The woman went off-topic almost immediately and began discussing how Mr. Johnson two doors down always honked his car horn at her cats. Was that a secret? Harriet wasn't quite sure and after about fifteen minutes of nonstop chattering from Miss Figg (who had long since finished her tea). Harriet was beginning to regret everything and was fidgeting with her notebook when Miss Figg said something strange.
"You know, you look like your mother so much." Miss Figg sighed dreamily.
There was a long pause before Harriet had found her voice. "What?" Partially because she hadn't quite heard, as she was halfway paying attention, and the other half because she was taken aback.
"You look like your mother. Lily was such a pretty girl, although you certainly have your father's messy hair. Lily had the straightest red hair I've ever seen, but you have inherited the Potter look for sure." Miss Figg said it so casually and flippantly that it made Harriet second guess herself for a brief moment.
"You knew my parents?" Harriet's voice cracked.
"Oh yes. They were apart of the Order, you know. Nice people. I never actually met them, but they were considered to be an amazing support. Lily was so intelligent and James was brilliant with his transfiguration." Miss Figg smiled.
Within a few minutes, Harriet had been trying to figure out the best way to escape from Miss Figg to suddenly sitting on the couch feeling as if the world had dropped out from under her. There was suddenly a mental barrier that came crashing down, forcing Harriet's emotions to be split apart from her mind. She felt like a second person in her own body, suddenly very aware of her surroundings and her body. Harriet wasn't sure how to react, or how to even feel with the revelation that Miss Figg, that weird neighbor, knew her parents. But what she did know is that she needed to learn more.
"What is the Order?" Harriet asked. She flipped open her notebook, and hurriedly scribbled in it.
Potion works. The victim hasn't died yet. Knows my mum and dad. Order? Dad knew transfiguration well. Wait does that mean MF knows about magic?
"The Order of the Phoenix." Miss Figg replied. "I was the only squib in the entire organization. And I am proud of that, you know. Albus was the only one who thought I had any value. The rest of them said that it would be too dangerous for me, but magic doesn't protect everybody."
She knows magic. Mentioned squid. And another guy, Albus?
"What is a squid," Harriet asked before looking up from her notebook.
"Squib." Miss Figg replied. "It means that I was born without magic. Oh. Oh, maybe I shouldn't have said that. Albus asked me to give you a normal childhood. Although for a few years I've wondered why you were put into a muggle home. Most magical children are placed with their relatives. Your father certainly has a few, although distantly related." Miss Figg picked up one of her cats and placed it on her lap.
Questions began to build up in Harriet's mind. She had magic relatives? Grandparents perhaps? What did muggle mean? Although the nagging question in Harriet's mind grew louder. "Who is Albus?" Harriet asked.
"Albus Dumbledore. The greatest wizard in our day and age. He defeated Grindelwald. He's also the current headmaster of Hogwarts. He's your magical guardian. After your parents were… erm. Unable to care for you, you were placed in his care. He was the one who sent you to your aunt and uncle's home."
A bitter taste began to form into Harriet's mouth. Sent to her aunt and uncle… but Miss Figg said that magic kids are usually placed in magic homes. And that her dad had relatives. Did this Albus Dumbledore know what her home life was like? How she cooked and cleaned and did everything? Harriet knew that her aunt and uncle abused her. When she finally was able to put the word to the actions, it didn't come as a shock to her.
What could have her life had been like if she didn't live with the Dursleys?
"You said…" Harriet's voice halted and then continued. "You said that my parents weren't able to care for me. What do you mean?" The information that was computing into her head was moving faster than she could think. Her mind buzzed with all of the possibilities and questions so fast that Harriet didn't feel like she could ask them all in time with her potion in effect.
"Oh, dear. You've never been told, haven't you?" Miss Figg absently pet her cat. "What do you know about your parents?"
"They were killed in a car crash." Harriet numbly replied.
Miss Figg scoffed. "No. Dear no. Your parents are still alive."
That night Harriet laid on her mattress. She was far too big for it now, even though she hasn't grown as fast as Dudley has. She laid awake, staring into the darkness but not really looking. Her thoughts kept her awake. The Dursleys were all upstairs in their beds, fast asleep. Harriet had felt that strange numbness that came when Miss Figg had told her about her parents. They had been tortured right in front of her. She was too young to remember, not that Harriet would have liked to, but her mum and dad were driven insane. They lived in a hospital where magical mind healers hoped to fix them but there was no chance of that happening.
Her mum, Lily Potter, the woman who Harriet has looked up to for years, was considered insane. Committed to a mental hospital insane. And her dad, the guy who made the most spectacular spells and pranks, was with her mum.
Harriet didn't know how to feel. Okay, there were a few big emotions. Like betrayal. Harriet had grown up hearing that her parents were dead. And knowing that they weren't felt like she had been stabbed in the back. Aunt Petunia knew that Harriet's mum was still alive. And yet she spent all these years, her entire life telling Harriet that her mum was dead. And in a technical sense, Lily Potter was.
Life is unfair. Harriet decided that. Within moments, Harriet had regained her parents, the people who she idolized the most. And within those same moments, had also lost them. Harriet felt like she was lacking something now. Harriet turned on her side and sighed, staring at nothing in the darkness of her cupboard.
Harriet laid in the dark, wide awake and mind racing. Her notebook filled with pages and pages of notes that she had taken from Miss Figg. The old woman blabbed everything and didn't seem too different besides the glazed look in her eyes. The more that she talked, the more that Harriet wanted a thousand different answers. The questioning had to come to an end when Miss Figg complained of a headache and Harriet took that as her cue to leave.
Her Aunt scolded her for going to Miss Figgs house and Uncle Vernon slapped her around. Harriet had learned throughout her life to just let them do their own thing until they left her alone, and soon after Harriet had been banished to her cupboard.
Which left Harriet to think. The Dursleys were leaving the next day to spend the rest of the holiday with Aunt Marge in Paris. Harriet explained to Aunt Petunia that she had gone over to Miss Figgs to tell her that she was spending a few days over there. Which was a total lie, but Aunt Petunia hated talking with Miss Figg who was the strangest neighbor on the street, so she accepted it. In reality, Harriet had other places to be. After hours of pumping for information, Harriet finally had the smart idea of asking where Diagon Alley was. Equipped with the information, and a few pounds that Harriet had stolen from her aunt over the years, Harriet was going to take a trip to London and finally enter the wizarding world.
The idea of finally getting her hands on some magical ingredients (Harriet had her eye on those mugwort seeds, and not to mention boomslang skin. Those would be incredibly useful) would have made her almost salivate. But instead, Harriet felt a little miserable. Somehow, living with the fact that her parents were tortured to insanity instead of dying in a car crash was pretty depressing.
Finally, Harriet couldn't handle it anymore. She clicked on the light in her room and pulled out from a hidden nook her mum's journal. The book had significantly gotten more beaten up in the last few years, although Harriet did her best to preserve it. Harriet had long since read the entire thing. In fact, she rereads it. Some days to help her feel closer to her mum. Other days to hunt and see if there were any missing clues that Harriet didn't see before. But today was simply a day where Harriet wanted to read her favorite part. The part when her mum talks about her. It was the only page that Harriet had intentionally dog-eared, and she flipped to it easily.
'August 14th, 1980
It has been two weeks since I have had the loveliest girl. James and I can't stop checking on her when she's asleep. I would have never thought that I would become a mother, especially not as young as I am now. But Harriet is a treasure that I'll never give up. She's so amazing and wonderful. I love her so much, it feels like my heart will beat out of my chest. James is almost worse than me. Harriet is such a quiet baby, sometimes I am afraid that she's too quiet but Molly says that she's perfectly fine. We don't have much of a problem putting her to bed, but James still wants to hold her and play with her even after bedtime. I don't blame him, even two weeks old she's already giggling and smiling. James likes to change the color on his glasses and Harriet smiles and laughs every time that they are different.
I cherish my family so much. I love my daughter. I adore my incredible husband. Even if he has his friends come over a bit too much to play with my newborn daughter. At least Sirius is respectful enough to keep his voice down. Although Peter holds her like she is too frail and is afraid to touch her. Remus hasn't come yet, but James says that he has problems being around kids.
Please, as if I don't know about the werewolf thing. They think they are sneaky but how on earth do I not notice my husband turning himself into a deer and running off into the woods every full moon. Remus has a heart of gold and is too afraid of being near my daughter. But he wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone Harriet.
Oh, I think I just heard James get up to go play with Harriet again. I need to go stop him. It's her nap time and she doesn't latch well if she's tired.
November 21st, 1980
We asked Sirius if he'd be Harriet's godfather. He was so touched. Originally the idea was having Peter be one, but we noticed that he was uncomfortable around Harriet. But Sirius took to Harriet like a duck on water. He was perfect around her, carefully playing with her and changing her nappies. It wasn't a hard decision to make, and Sirius looked ready to cry. I asked Alice if she'd be Harriet's godmother, and she was ecstatic. I, in turn, was asked to be Neville's godmother and accepted.
Each parent can ask for a godmother and godfather for their child. James didn't know many women that he trusted to be in charge of Harriet, so he decided not to ask another person to be a godparent. I was trying to think up a way to ask James if I could have Sev be the other godparent. I know we hadn't talked in years, not after our last argument. But knowing how they had their rivalry, he wouldn't take it too well.
Perhaps in a few months. Or years, whenever this damned war will end.
January 1st, 1981
Today was a big day for Harriet. She gained a new parent. James and I decided to take the old route of having Sirius blood-adopt her. Sirius was ecstatic, and honestly, he treated Harriet like his own child. By surprise, Sirius also named her his heir in the ceremony. He told me later that he wanted to give Harriet the best, and he technically was still the heir to the Black name. When he becomes Lord Black, Harriet would be his heir. Harriet already has an heirdom. The Potter name is quite wealthy and influential, although James hasn't the heart to start being a Lord quite yet. Thankfully his parents are still waiting for later to give him the full title. I believe it's because Lords has become targets in the war and they don't want James to walk around with a target on his back.
But I am still a little wary about Harriet's new title. I knew several heiresses in Hogwarts and they were practically auctioned off to the highest bidder. Look at Pandora, for heaven's sake. She got married as soon as she turned seventeen to Lovegood. I don't want that for my daughter and I told James and Sirius that if they thought that they could sell my daughter's happiness and future then they had another thing coming.
Sirius and James swore up and down that they would never allow it. I felt relieved. I'm glad that Harriet would be able to find happiness down the road with the person that she chose to love.
February, 15th 1981
Harriet has gotten into the age where magical stuff can happen. James is an expert on children and their magic. I didn't get raised in a magical community. My parents had to suffer through raising a magical child without knowing that she was magical at all. I, however, have plenty of books and other such items that hopefully whenever Harriet gets to the point where her accidental magic comes into play then I'll be prepared.
At least, that is what I had hoped. Five months old, Harriet scared the crap out of me. Out of all of us, really. Sirius was having dinner with us and was letting Harriet ride on his back when he was Padfoot. Harriet loves him. She's such a happy baby. Anyways, I had just gotten supper finished and told Sirius that it was time to eat dinner. James picked up Harriet and Sirius turned back into his human form. Harriet gave out a squeal of delight, and Sirius took her him James and we all watched as her hair turned black and wavy and her eyes matched Sirius'.
Turns out my daughter is metamorphmagus. James' grandmother Dorea was a Black before her marriage. And when we had Sirius blood adopt Harriet then it strengthened the dormant abilities. Sirius was delighted, he said that having Harriet as a metamorphmagus will stop his mother complaining about him to get married and have kids. It proved that Harriet was his heir and that she was a little bit more Black than Potter.
James was a little upset to hear that, but he quickly forgave his best friend and spent the night trying to get Harriet to look like him. It didn't work. But when Harriet saw me she regained her red hair and green eyes.
James pouted. But I won this particular dick contest.
May, 3rd, 1981
The war has become serious. I knew that we were targets, ever since Harriet had been born. We went into hiding. But things are getting worse. Alice and Frank have gone dark, they're too afraid of communication that would give away their hidden home. Sirius exchanged places as the secret keeper with Peter. It's getting scary out there. We also found out that the Potter mansion had been raided, and James' parents were killed.
It was a hard week. I felt his pain, and I think our relationship has become stronger because of it. I remember when I had to bury my parents before my seventh year. I was a wreck, and sometimes to this day I still turn around to find the telephone to call up my mum and ask her how to be a parent.
It hurts to remember that they're gone.
Harriet sensed James' mood and for the first time, she adopted James' look. She was beautiful, with his brown eyes and messy dark curls. James held her as he cried and laughed at the same time. He turned to me and said, "she's been holding out on me this entire time! Eight months old and she's already turning into a prankster."
I laughed and we laid in bed for the day. The only times we got up were to change Harriet's nappy and to get some ice cream.
I love my family.
October 15th, 1981
Remus finally came back. From wherever he went. Sirius was a bit off around him, but soon came around when they went to go have a 'chat' outside. Afterward, Remus looked a bit more lost and Sirius looked guilty.
I guess Sirius accused Remus of something that he wasn't doing, and Remus was hurt because he thought Sirius trusted him. It was awkward. But thank Merlin that I had a baby because they are great at breaking up the tension.
Remus loved Harriet and she fell in love with him just as fast. As soon as she saw him she adopted his look. His wavy auburn hair and tanned skin were adorable on her. Remus was so gentle. Too gentle for Harriet who got frustrated too fast with him. She pouted until Remus finally picked her up and carried her around the room. She had him twisted around her little finger by dinner time.
Afterward, Remus was bouncing her on his lap when she shifted her features again. This time she assumed Remus' scars on his face. Remus wasn't sure how to react, and I told him quite frankly that he shouldn't be ashamed of it.
I guess he knew what I was talking about and he got a little teary-eyed. So I made some tea and watched as Harriet crawled around happily on the ground. Afterward, he said thank you, and I told him that it was no problem.
I am certain that we will see him more often now.
On another note! I finally got James to agree to let Sev be Harriet's other godfather. He said that he didn't want to do another blood adoption, and I agreed. Having Sirius be the other parent was fine enough. Sev could just be the cool godfather. James took offense to that. I don't know what Sev has been up to anymore. And so I have been drafting a letter that James will have to look over and agree to before we send it. I hope he says yes because I still consider him to be my friend. Even after so many years. But equally, I hope he has changed since then.
Oh, Harriet started to cry. I need to go. I guess I'll write again in a couple of months.'
Harriet trailed the words with her fingers. Knowing that if she turned the page, there would be no more words left. Her mum had never written anymore. This was the last thing that her mum had written. And now, as it turns out, it always will be. Her mum can't write anymore.
Harriet read and re-read the passages. Over and over. Her mum loved her, and so did her dad. Although they didn't die to protect her, they still tried to save her. From what Harriet had been told by Miss Figg, they had hidden her in their closet when the house had been under attack. They still tried to shield her. And these snippets of her mum and how her dad loved her, these little passages told her how much they really loved her.
Harriet loved them too. She loved how her dad always wrote tons of funny comments on the side of the Marauders Compendium. She loved her mum and how she always complained about the weather. She loved them because she knew that they loved her too.
When Harriet was finally tired, and she replaced her mum's book and turned off the light a slow thought came to her. Her parents aren't dead. So that meant there was always a chance that they could be healed one day. And Harriet latched onto that hope like it was a lifeline.
(Once upon a time, there were three brothers. And those three brothers cheated death. In the famous story about them, told as a children's tale, there were main things lacking. They did not, in fact, cheat death once. But thrice-
Oh shit. Uh. Wrong chapter. We got a little ahead of ourselves. Excuse us while we, uh. Get the- oh here it is. Ahem.
Harriet Potter, or in some cases, Harry Potter is a rather important figure in the cosmos. Their actions tend to spread out more, causing universes to be created or destroyed within a decision. That being said, there are many entities in the development department who curse their names (and their many variations of it) daily. (The most common name cursed is Zachary Potter, The-Boy-Who-Sort-Of-Lived. A fucked up universe was created by pure happenstance and Zachary was the oddball chosen hero who decided to do everything absolutely wrong. And somehow everything he did was the best decision. Nobody likes Zachary Potter because even our statistic's people couldn't figure out how things happened.)
That also being said- Harry Potter, Gordon Ramsey, Merlin, Amelia Earhart, Alexander the Great, Joan of Arc, Vlad the Impaler, Confucius, and a guy named Steve from accounting (we don't know why he's important. He just is) are all common people who have a great influence in the universes. Those are just human names. There are plenty of important dogs (who are the best boys ever), cats, fish, and dinosaurs (of whom we shall not name, damn him) that all have a vast amount of power in their decisions.
That being said- events can also hold these powers. For instance, when King Arthur withdrew his sword from the stone. That event, in of itself, would cause a chain reaction in the cosmos. It isn't the people who change things, nor is it the actions. It's the story itself. The words being spoken throughout generations. Merlin was a powerful wizard who helped found the wizarding world. It is the tale of the three brothers and a deal that fated them to their dooms. It is the words of an older cat lady, speaking in admiration about a wizard.
Dear readers, you must listen carefully. Jokes and puns put aside, this is a serious topic that you must understand going forwards in this tale. Understand, listen, and learn when people change. When two boys who grew up with each other fell apart by betrayal, a story began. Written in books, later on, few understood the reasons behind them. Why it happened, how it came to be, was dismissed by the winner. The loser rots away, trapped, and kept safe. Never forgotten, but left to gather the dust.
Rain fell.
Rain fell and it hit the sodden ground. One drop at a time didn't matter, but joined by thousands it created a light speckle of water that added to the dreary day. The earth that it hit upon was upheaved by strange and unknown techniques that many of the human population didn't know. Magic crackled in the air, and a man's breath fogged up as he breathed heavily. It was a scene of a fight, one that had just finished. Two men amidst the chaotic remains of a bloody battle.
A man with fair hair clutched at his arm. Rain trickled down his face, as he looked up with shocking blue eyes that blinked rapidly. A man who had sworn his oath to help others, to teach those who didn't know better or wrong. A man who looked upon the face of his love- and openly cried.
"Why." He cried out. He took a half a step forwards, lurching on the uneven ground. He looked nothing like his former self. A usually well-dressed man, impeccably clean and well shaven. Now his hair fell into his face, his clothes ripped and bleeding openly, desperation and pain written on his face.
How did this story come to be? Two boys grew up together. They loved each other. They still do- sometimes. And just like how universes can be suddenly created with a flick of a switch, so can people. One boy saw something that frightened him- changed him completely until he turned on the person he trusted most. That boy did something that pushed him into a new personality, just like how Lily Potter's journal helped Harriet onto her new path.
What exactly did this boy do, you might ask?
Gentle hands came up and touched the man's face. The winner of the battle shushed the other gently, pushing the loser's dripping hair from his face. Gentle hands then pulled back from his lover, then grasped the new wand he claimed. He leaned in and whispered, "it's for the greater good."
He killed his sister.)