[Do you ever want to communicate with the pretty girl in class, but can't because it's "disruptive" and "annoying, Mr. Potter?" Do you want to share a note between your mates when you are taking a test? Do you want to steal a Ravenclaw's homework, and unsure how to do it? Well, do I have a charm for you! The one, the only, Paper-Transfer charm! A little something I found in the library when I was serving detention there. Believe it or not, I didn't make this one. I don't make charms. I prefer transfiguration, thank you very much. But this spell has so much unlimited potential! It's mostly used for librarians to copy a damaged book into a new book. In fact, after testing it out, anything you write between the two novels is transferred to the other! Or in this case, between two parchments. It's absolutely perfect for sneaking notes around. After all, a teacher wouldn't suspect it. Not in the slightest!
Hold your wand with your dominant hand. Point it at the object that you want to transfer and flick it fast between the other one. While you are doing so, say the words, " chartam exemplum." Pronounced: Chart-um, Ex-em-pul-m. It's quick and easy. It's not a hard spell at all! Now go sneak some notes around with your professors none-the-wiser.
-Prongs (written by Moony because he is the most perfect, handsome, and wonderful friend that any Marauder could ever have. And because he can write whatever he wants to right here and nobody can stop him. Haha, beat that Padfoot.)
(There is a half-written word that was illegible and hastily scribbled out. Next to it is a frowny face, with very big angry eyebrows. There is also a very badly drawn hand with its middle finger pointed upwards.)
-Excerpt from the Marauders Componium]
Mud slipped down the side of Harriet's face, thick drops of it falling and hitting the floor in a splatter. The thick mixture was cold and slippery. It was the first thing that came to Harriet's mind as the shock and surprise left her. Her mind didn't compute for a few solid seconds. But now time began to resume. And Harriet had cold mud dripping from her hair as the boys laughed around her.
All except Neville.
Harriet didn't move to wipe away any of the mud from her face. Instead, she opened her eyes, unafraid of the mud getting in them, and stared down at the boys. Their neckties spoke of their association of Gryffindor.
'I can't believe I wanted to get into that house.' Harriet thought, the anger that sparked and flared inside of her kept her calm. It was like the rage of their amusement of her eased her nerves and kept her face still. They wanted her to react. They wanted her to cry. But staring at the boys, the three of them who were still laughing, the fourth looking miserable and uncomfortable, Harriet memorized their faces. There was one that Harriet didn't want to forget. The greasy carrot red hair and the freckles that dotted his skin.
Harriet hated every inch of Ronald Weasley, and she wanted to remember this moment. The exact moment when he decided that she was an easy target to mess with.
"Look-" Weasley spoke between guffawing, "the idiot doesn't even know how to react. She's so stupid she can't even cry!"
"Ron." Neville finally spoke. There was no trace of humor in his voice whatsoever. "Shut up."
"Aww, Neville. You're just being a wimp." Said one of the other boys. He had blonde hair and his tie was undone. "You have to relax. This is just a prank."
"No, it isn't. Shut up, Seamus. You too, Dean. This isn't funny." Neville spoke. He turned to his companions. "This isn't funny." He repeated.
"Of course it is." Weasely spoke. He swaggered up to Harriet's still form, coming uncomfortably close to her. "See? It's all fun and games. Right?" He grasped Harriet's sleeve and pulled. "She's just too stupid to-"
It set Harriet into motion. Her wand might not work. Her magic might be wonky. But Harriet was never afraid to use her fists. The red-hot anger surged higher than Harriet had ever felt, and it felt like her movement wasn't her own. Her vision was spotty, her heart thundered in her ears. And it happened too quickly for her to remember it clearly later. All Harriet knew was that she tugged herself out of Ronald's grasp and her fist flew out.
The audible crunch and the feeling of bone moving where her hand connected to Ronald's face distracted Harriet from feeling her thumb break.
(-Oh my. We are so sorry. Our network has gone down for a brief eon or so. It seems like some of our files have been mixed up. Our apologies, it seems like this particular chapter is seemingly out of order. We are trying to fix this particular mistake. But the Universal I.T. Department hasn't been of much help so far. Please hold while we turning the universes on and off again.
Thank you.)
Harriet sat down next to the other girls in transfiguration. There was a cat on the table, and Harriet wondered if cats could tell if a human experimented on another cat. Because it was giving everybody in the classroom a very unimpressed look.
"I've heard that Professor McGonagall is a hard teacher. To everybody except the Gryffs." Susan spoke to Hannah.
"My dad taught me some techniques to help me," Hannah whispered back. "He said this was the hardest class in the school."
Harriet stared at the cat. She had caught it's attention. The feline was staring back at her. An unofficial game of a staring contest had started and neither of them blinked. Harriet cocked her head to the side. The cat felt familiar somehow. Was it because she lived next to somebody who had a lot of cats? Miss Figg had billions of them. Harriet wondered if there was a different type of cats, a magical kind that only witches and wizards used. Miss Figgs cats avoided Harriet, but only if Harriet had a potion on her. No matter how much Harriet had hidden the vials, the cats always knew. Which made her suspect if they had more magical abilities than normal cats.
'I'm going to experiment on you ." Harriet thought to the cat. The cat didn't seem to notice her dangerous thoughts. It stared at her with it's yellow eyes. Intelligent, yes. Capable of hearing Harriet's thoughts? No. Hmm. Maybe the cats could have smelled the potion on her?
"-arriet? Are you listening?"
Harriet blinked, her eyes stinging from being open too long. She jerked her head to the side, meeting Susan's gaze. "I've been talking to you for a few minutes," Susan said. "Are you okay?"
A boy behind them, Justin, snorted loudly. A fellow Hufflepuff who talked loudly with the other boys. Harriet had him pegged as what Dudley would call the 'wannabe class clown.' He was loud and outrageous. But he made the other boys laugh at his jokes, so he continued on his crusade of trying to be funny. He coughed loudly, a word mixed in the noise to disguise it. "Dumb." He coughed loudly twice more.
A boy, Ernie, laughed. Zacharias Smith joined in.
(Loading… Loading… Loading…
Error. Please try again.)
'Hullo. I'm Neville.'
A note was slid to Harriet. It was hot in the greenhouses. The air was thick with moisture and smelled of growing things. The class was in a separate room from the greenhouses themselves, but Harriet had already grown uncomfortably hot. Having a shirt, plus the robes on, plus the tie was a little too much. Harriet wished she could shuck the robe off, at least. But nobody else did so, and she was too embarrassed to be the first one to take her clothes off. And so Harriet resigned herself to suffer through the hot class. It was only their second herbology class, and they had yet to do anything with plants. But it was important to Harriet that she learn the basics first.
That was one thing that Harriet never understood. The Ravenclaws complain all the time that classes were going too slow. They wanted to get past the theory part and to get into the magic, but in charms class, they were still on the third chapter of their book.
Harriet disagreed with them. Although she'd never do it out loud. It was already hard when a teacher called on her to answer a question, but to tell the Ravenclaws that they were wrong? Harriet couldn't handle it. But personally, she knew how difficult it was to master something if she didn't know the basics of it. Learning potions was hard without knowing the proper cuts and techniques. Many books referenced types of preparations done to ingredients and never went into depth. That meant Harriet had spent weeks, if not a month, trying to figure out how to properly dry leaves.
If you didn't know the basics, it was extremely hard to know the rest. And so Harriet took to the theory like a duck to water. It was so easy to understand if you read the book. The books spelled things out so easily to her. Well, with the exception of the potions book. It was simple, idiotic, and a waste of paper. That was Harriet's firm opinion on Jigger's potion book. Nothing could make her change her mind.
Professor Sprout was in front of the classroom. A cheerful woman, Harriet had figured out fairly quickly. She was round. Not like Dudley and Uncle Vernon round, but more of a plump perky way. If that made any sense. Her face was round, hell, her hair had curls in it. Harriet had met her on her first night here, the pump woman welcoming each and every student into Hufflepuff. She was in charge of them. If Harriet had never seen a witch before in her life, Harriet would have pictured somebody like Professor Sprout. She was kind, and always ready to point the students in the right direction. Even if that direction is towards the kitchens. Harriet wasn't quite sure if she liked the woman yet. But she seemed kind, and she had yet to single Harriet out. Overall, Professor Sprout was decent. And so, it was with great difficulty to look down at the note that was slid over to her.
Harriet glanced down at the note. She curled her fingers and bit her lip awkwardly. How should she respond? It was class. It probably wasn't time for notes. But… it was her first note. She vividly recalled in primary school the notes that were passed around when the teacher wasn't looking. The giggles of the girls and the boys snickering when they read what their friends wrote. Harriet had seen girls draw pictures or boys writing dumb notes. Sometimes, they were making fun of her. Other times, they wanted to talk but couldn't because it was class time. However, Neville didn't seem to be making fun of her. Unless it was a trick. But Harriet was trying to give everybody the benefit of the doubt. Passing notes was a good sign, right? Because notes were a thing that friends did? Did that mean that Neville wanted to be her friend?
She glanced up and stared at the boy sitting next to her from behind her veil of hair. He didn't look as disheveled as the other Gryffindor boys. Neville had brown hair that was neatly cut, and a light sprinkle of freckles over his round face. Harriet had been placed on the edge of the group of Hufflepuffs, next to the Gryffindors, since there wasn't a lot of room in the small classroom. The Gryffindors all were loud and Harriet cringed a bit being near them. But Neville didn't seem as crazy or energetic as the other boys next to him. Harriet tried to see if there was any sign that this was some sort of prank, carefully analyzing Neville's movements and then looking back down at the note again. Jokes had been played on her by Dudley and his group of minions, pretending to be nice so that they could lure her into the playground to beat her up. But there wasn't a sign of maliciousness that Harriet could perceive. He turned and caught her eye, giving her a soft smile.
Neville seemed nice. And so Harriet pulled out her pen and scribbled her response. She'd give him a chance.
'My name is Harriet. It's nice to meet you.'
Harriet walked into the main hall after her second transfiguration class and grimaced. It was only Tuesday, her third day here. And Harriet could easily say that she didn't like the great hall the most. The noise in here echoed. It was so loud that Harriet wanted to cover her ears every time she walked in there. It was mostly the red house, the Gryffindors, who made the most noise. Hufflepuff, admittedly, was in second place. Harriet chose to ignore the fact that Hufflepuff was also loud. Ravenclaw and Slytherin were modest in their noise levels, and half the time Harriet almost wished she was in those houses. They weren't quite as open as Gryiffindor or as boisterous as Hufflepuff. But the great hall always echoed the noise and it made it worse, so much so that Harriet never wanted to be there. Most of the time, she came in, ate until she felt like she was going to throw up, and then left. But lately, she had been staying to hang out with Susan and Hannah. It was a small sacrifice, but worth it because Harriet liked being around the other girls.
It was lunchtime. And Harriet wasn't hungry. She sat next to Hannah, who was talking with Susan. "I got my match pointy. And silvery. I think by next weeks class I'll be able to make it a needle."
"I got the tip of it a little sharp. But not as good as yours." Susan spoke. She grabbed a few slices of bread and began to make a sandwich. "I hope to get it done by next week. But I don't think it's really working for me. Transfiguration is really hard."
Harriet agreed. Transfiguration was extremely hard. She had dedicated more time to studying the book that they had been given. But no matter how much she poured over the reading or paid attention in class, Harriet was struggling. Badly. Transfiguration was quickly becoming her least favourite class. She understood the basics, yeah. Turn something into another thing. But no matter how much she waved her wand, nothing would happen. She poked at her match, whispered to it gently, pleadingly. Stared down at it angrily, channeling all of her energy into making the match turn into a needle. And nothing was working. It was exhausting, to constantly repeat the spell over, and over, and over again without anything working. Harriet almost wanted to cry, but she kept her chin up. She was probably not getting something. She'd learn it, soon enough.
"Yeah." Hannah agreed. "I'm a little jealous by the 'Claws for getting it so quickly. But they study too much."
Harriet listened into the conversation. Occasionally nodding or shaking her head whenever she was asked a question. Things were still awkward between Hannah and Susan, but the two girls hadn't complained or told her to get lost so far. So Harriet stayed with them. They knew this world so much more than Harriet did. And the more Harriet hung around them, the more she could learn about the wizarding world. Harriet poked a few grapes on her plate, only able to eat a few before they turned too sour in her mouth. Harriet had gorged herself the night before with potatoes and roast beef and had spent a majority of the night feeling sick. Her body wasn't used to the sudden influx of food. And Harriet would have never thought that she'd get sick from eating too much food. But the world has a way of surprising her. Breakfast that morning had revolted her entirely, and lunch was still unappetizing. Perhaps by dinner, Harriet's appetite would be back.
"-are you ready for our first potions class?" Susan asked, and Harriet looked up to see Susan staring at her.
Harriet nodded. She was, actually. It was the one thing that kept her really going all day. Exhausted and frustrated, Harriet wanted to go to bed to sleep off everything. She was sure that if she asked Professor Sprout she'd be excused. But potions was her dream. Her passion. And there as no way that she wasn't going to the first potions class. It was what made this day worth it so far. She was just going to have an hour class in potions. And then tomorrow would be even better. A three-hour potions class, and then astrology during the night-time afterward. Harriet had been looking forward to the weekend ever since she had been handed her schedule.
"I've heard from the Gryffindor first years that potions class is really hard," Hannah said.
"Really?" Susan asked, "I've heard from Daphne Greengrass that it was really easy. She said she liked the class."
"Well, she's a snake." Hannah shrugged. "I've heard Professor Snape is the head of Slytherin's house. I think he plays favorites."
"That won't be an issue in our class then." Susan replied, "we're paired up with the 'Claws. I think they are more annoying than us. They ask way too many questions and their hands are always in the air."
"Ugh, did you see Lisa Turpin in Charms? She kept on asking question after question." Hannah said, rolling her eyes. "Professor Flitwick didn't care. But he's their head of the house. He probably told them not to be afraid of asking too many questions. Even if they were pointless."
"I'm glad I'm not in Ravenclaw." Susan agreed. "That would be the absolute worst."
Harriet watched the conversation with curiosity. She almost got into Ravenclaw. But Harriet rather liked Hufflepuff, even though she liked Gryffindor a touch better. And then glanced down at the grapes still on her plate. She poked them with her fork. Hoping that one day, she'd actually get to class. To be able to do anything with potions right now would be really nice. It was relaxing to do it. To watch over a potion until all the steps were complete was so comfortable. In fact, it had been a while since Harriet had been able to even touch a cauldron or even a pot. Aunt Petunia kept a sharp eye on her ever since Hagrid came, and the one-time Harriet had snuck out of her room to try and make a potion Aunt Petunia had caught her. Her aunt was too afraid to smack her around but instead had simply installed more locks and a cat-flap to the door. Thankfully, it had only been two weeks before Harriet had to leave, instead of the full month. It gave Harriet plenty of time to go through her school supplies and to pick up a few textbooks. And to hang out with her new friend Hedwig.
Harriet was practically itching to make a potion. With her new ingredients, the magical kind, and the addition of Hedwig, Harriet craved to make something new. She had written page after page in her potions book over the ideas and wants that she desired to make. There were dozens of tests Harriet wanted to try out with Hedwig's slime. She had already tested it out on herself when she was bored and waiting for Hogwarts to come.
Harriet wasn't quite sure what happened. But she was confident enough that the hallucinations didn't harm her out so much as relax her and nearly put her to sleep. (It is to be said that Harriet didn't try it out on herself after that. She dreamed a dinosaur was going to eat her. It was so vivid that Harriet scared herself so badly that she didn't sleep for two days.)
"-I think we should head out," Susan said, grabbing her bag. Hannah was quick to grab hers as well, and Harriet followed them. "I've heard it's hard to find the classroom in the dungeons."
The two girls were faster to leave than Harriet. And as usual, Harriet trailed after them. Mary, the Hufflepuff Prefect was guiding them. Susan and Hannah giggled and laughed, but Harriet was taking mental notes on where to go. Turn left at the statue, go down the stairs, and turn at the hallway where the painting of the knight is. It was the opposite direction of where the Hufflepuff dorms were, Harriet figured out. And then Mary pointed at a door.
"Good luck girls. Just remember to keep your chin up and follow the professor's instructions, alright? Potions are pretty dangerous if you don't follow his example." Mary said. Harriet was excited. Really, really excited. Energy buzzed inside of her, and she couldn't stop fidgeting. She followed Susan and Hannah into the classroom. They weren't the first ones there, more than half of the Ravenclaws were there. All of them were looking at the potions book. They probably won't learn anything good in that book, Harriet surmised. It really was just trash.
The potions room was lined with stone. It was darker than what Harriet expected, but she felt sure it was because of a good reason. The only thing that came to mind was that perhaps potions were light sensitive? The room smelt fresh. The lingering traces of sage and another smell that Harriet couldn't place were faintly there. Sage was a common ingredient to clean and prevent contamination. A familiar smell. But to Harriet, she was glad that there was ventilation. Desks sat row by row on different levels, so that each student could see the board. A chalkboard sat next to a large imposing desk at the front of the class. That was where the teacher watched over them. A group of the Hufflepuff boys had claimed one side of the classroom, and the girls went over to join them.
Harriet sat at the end table. Hannah was next to her, and Susan on Hannah's other side. It looked like they were paired up in groups with whoever sat at the same desk. That meant Hannah was Harriet's partner! Harriet was almost giddy by that revelation. Just imagining Hannah's face when Harriet made the perfect potion and getting a perfect score. After today, everybody would want to be Harriet's partner in potions because she was so good at them! She wasn't bragging, not at all. It was a simple fact. Harriet knew that she was really good at potions.
Harriet began to pull out her potion items and organize them on the desk. Hannah had already brought out her cauldron, so Harriet decided that they could use her ingredients. After all, it wasn't like they needed two cauldrons for this. Harriet left the potions book in her bag. She had imagined going up to the professor after class and showing him her notes. And telling him what utter garbage this book was, and that he ought to look at better ones for his students. She knew most of the potion recipes by heart, and how to fix them and make them better. So having the book out would be a waste of space on the already cramped desk.
After neatly organizing her space, Harriet sat her wand on top of her desk and waited for class to start. Her legs kicking out and swinging in the air as she waited impatiently. She wanted the class to begin already! She's waited years for this moment. Think of all the things that she hadn't learned yet- and could learn in this class. Maybe she would be able to figure out how to combine willow leaves and silk without it exploding. She couldn't understand why for the life of her they didn't fit together. Willow leaves were a coolant in the recipe and silk was suppose to stabilize it. (Harriet adverted her eyes when she remembered how she got the silk in the first place. Aunt Petunia will never find that scarf ever again.)
"You will put your wands away. You will not need them in this class." A man spoke in a low drawling voice suddenly. Harriet jumped in fright. She hadn't seen the tall man enter the room. Which was saying something because the more she looked at the professor, the more eye-catching he was. Wearing all black and his robes billowed out like a cape. Well, it would be hard not to notice him. He had been so quiet coming in that Harriet hadn't seen him. "Potions is an art form…" he began to speak, a well-rehearsed speech. He spoke about stopping death, bottling fame, and Harriet couldn't help but agree with him. There were no limits when it came to potions, and Harriet wanted to do it all.
Harriet saw him glance at her. And then down, a sneer appearing on his face. She glanced down and saw that her wand was still out. Oops. She snatched it and hid it underneath the desk. She hadn't followed his instructions.
From the sleeve of his robe, he pulled out a parchment. He held one side and let it drop, the paper snapping taut with a crack. "Abbot, Hannah." He spoke in a slow dripping voice. Hannah raised her hand, and he glanced over and then back at the paper. "Bones, Susan."
Harriet used this time to really look at her professor. He was… well. Aunt Petunia would call him a disaster. Or a homeless man. Or a piece of society trash. Or a… well. Harriet wasn't one to judge. She herself wasn't the greatest at combing her hair. Or washing it. It was so thick and wavy that it was a pain to try and detangle some of the knots. If it wasn't for the fact that Aunt Petunia threatened to pour boiling water over her to make Harriet look clean, Harriet would never shower. Not that Aunt Petunia would ever let her use the bathroom. Harriet had to use the hose outside.
Harriet was a little glad that the professor didn't look as perfect as the others. It made him feel more human. And there was a little part of her was happy that there was some sort of connection. Perhaps potioneers didn't keep themselves clean a lot? Was it natural? Considering Harriet's hatred for showers, it might be part of the job.
He went down the list, calling out each person's name one right after the other. Then he reached to Harriet's. "Potter, Harriet."
Harriet raised her hand but saw that he was looking at her already. There was some sort of unreadable look on his face. His face was well guarded, but Harriet could sense something underneath. Something that Harriet couldn't quite understand. But then the moment was over, and he was looking back at the list.
Harriet blinked. Looked around to see if anybody caught that, and saw that nobody seemed to be as confused as she was. Maybe she had been reading into things. But still, something wasn't quite right here.
"Potions is not typical magic. It requires a steady hand, patience, and most of all, intelligence. If you don't have those requirements, then you will do poorly in the course. All of you will turn to chapter three of your textbook." Professor Snape drawled. "You will complete the potion within time. Instructions are on the board."
Harriet blinked.
Okay.
This was probably, you know, a test of some sort. Harriet glanced over at Hannah who was flipping through her book. Harriet peeped at the rest of the room. The Ravenclaws were already starting their potions, a few of them crushing iuglandis shells (which easily translated to walnut shells in Harriet's head). The boy-Hufflepuffs, of whom Harriet never talked to, were staring up at the chalkboard. Harriet followed their gaze, looking at a simple six-ingredient recipe. It was in the book, but Harriet had remembered writing all over the page. The potion itself wasn't very powerful, the results weren't anything special. It was dumb and rather boring if Harriet recalled correctly. It was supposed to fertilize plants. But in reality, Harriet knew that if she just used manure it would be better than using this potion. It was too weak to do much good.
It was a… simple potion. Harriet figured that it was decent to start small. But- why didn't-
"You can stir it, and I'll do the cutting, yeah?" Hannah spoke, breaking Harriet out of her thoughts. Harriet glanced at her, and then at the pot. Then nodded. Harriet watched with curious eyes as Hannah brought out the ingredients from Harriet's own stash. Well, it wasn't much of a stash really.
Harriet looked over at the board, then down at Hannah's book, noting the recipe. They added the iuglandis shells first. Walnuts were good for growth. If put into a potion with a high enough dosage, they could make a grown man shoot up a few inches. But- looking at the directions, it didn't look like they were being put to much use. They added 14 ounces of water with the shells. It didn't apply much heat to the walnut shells, and they would hardly excrete any oils that were needed in this potion.
Without much more thought, Harriet prodded the burner runes with her wand, causing it to turn on. It was simply logical to her. If you just let the walnut shells sweat a bit, perhaps maybe thirty or so seconds, then the usefulness of this potion could be amplified. But first, the cauldron had to warm up a bit.
Harriet watched Hannah curiously. She had her book propped up, and her eyes flickered up to read over and over again what she ought to do. Harriet didn't think much of it, some people either forgot easily or needed reassurance. Harriet could remember reading the same passages over and over again to make sure that she was right when she first started. However, that wasn't what Harriet was looking at. No, she was looking at what Hannah was doing with the knife.
It was the same knife that Harriet owned. Silver, a touch dull, and utterly useless when making sharp cuts. Harriet had tried to use it once, just to cut some dried apple leaves. However, it tore rather than cut it, so Harriet figured that it was junk like the rest of the kit. Instead, she used one of Aunt Petunia's prized silver butter knives that Harriet had knicked years ago. To make it sharp enough for Harriet's taste, she had also stolen Uncle Vernon's whetstone he had in the garage and took a few days with the butter knife to sharpen it to a point. Silver was an easy metal to shape if you had unlimited hours locked in a cupboard and bored to death. Sure, she cut herself a few times on accident. But it was worth it.
Harriet watched as Hannah crushed the walnut shells with the flat side of her blade. Harriet almost grimaced- Hannah barely cracked the shells open. But Hannah pushed them to the side and pulled over the porcupine needles before Harriet could even formulate words to say. Harriet watched blankly, as Hannah grasped the porcupine needles and began to chop at them.
Wait-
Harriet's eyes flicked over to the open book. It said to slice the porcupine needles, not to chop them into bits. She opened her mouth, words halting at the tip of her tongue. They were stuck in her mouth, unwilling to come out. But Harriet should warn her not to cut them like that. She should. But it was so difficult to speak. However, Harriet wasn't surprised by this. This was what she had been watching for.
Why didn't Professor Snape tell the class how to properly cut things? That was one of the first few things that Harriet had learned how to do. It was important to follow a potions recipe word by word. Each one meant something different. And if you didn't follow it, you weren't going to get the outcome that you wanted. Was this some sort of test? Was he showing them how to not make a potion first? And then how to properly prepare the ingredients and how to add them to a potion safely.
It was wise to show what could happen. But Harriet could recall how her first potion had melted on the stove, the pot included. And the resulting rash that didn't go away for months on her arms after she mopped it up with her own clothes.
It was smart to teach kids the dangers of potions. But it was dumb too. Because it was equally too dangerous not to warn them.
Harriet opened her mouth once more. "Maybe-" She spoke softly, reaching out to stop Hannah from destroying the porcupine needles. However, a shadow fell on her.
"Miss," a deep voice hissed, prolonging the 's' noise. "Potter," the sharp 'tsk' snapping the 't' in her last name, creating a sharp sound that cracked like a whip. "What do you think you are doing?"
Whatever ambient noise in the room instantly died. Small children dropped whatever they were doing and were looking over. Their eyes were curious and dreading. The weight of them fell onto Harriet's shoulders. As for Harriet, there was something about that sound. Perhaps it was the way that he had said it. Miss Potter. Or maybe it was the disdain in his voice. It echoed like Aunt Petunia's but somehow, this time, it was terrifying. It wasn't at all annoying or frustrating like Petunia's indifference to her niece. But Professor Snape's low drawl from high above her sent waves of panic through Harriet's head.
Harriet glanced up, retracting her arm slowly from where it was reached out to curl around her body. He was so tall, was the one strange thing that she noted. When her eyes met his dark brown eyes, he tilted his head to the side. "Well? What do you think you are doing?" He asked once more.
Harriet swallowed heavily. Her mouth suddenly dry. "I-I don't know-" what you're talking about. She was going to say but was interrupted before she finished.
"I can see that." His tone was flat and unamusing. With a quick swish of his wand, he jabbed it at the rune underneath the cauldron. It clicked off. The noise deafening in the silent classroom. "Tell me, Miss Potter," her name still sounds like a cracking whip when it leaked from his mouth, "where is your potions book?"
"Potions book?" Harriet whispered, staring up at him with wide eyes. Her brain wasn't following along.
"Yes." He leaned down closer to her. "The assigned book. It was written on your list. I don't suppose you know where your copy of it is?" His voice turned sickeningly sweet as he came closer to her.
Harriet's face flushed. Shock was her first emotion. Then embarrassment and shame set in soon after. "I-I," was all that she could stammer out before Professor Snape moved. In one quick motion, he stepped back and regained his full height. He turned, his robes fanning out behind him.
"If you do not come to class prepared, then you are not suited to be here. Potions is not a class for dunderheads to come in and horse around. This is a dangerous class. More often than not, you will be injured if you do not follow the precise instructions." Snape stopped in front of the classroom and sharply turned towards the students. "Will somebody please tell me why, exactly?"
Silence in the classroom. Nobody wanted to move. Harriet held her breath. Frozen. She stared at the wall, unable to will herself to look at the Professor. Something was going on here. Something was happening, but she couldn't place it exactly. But it felt familiar.
Finally, a Ravenclaw raised their hand. "Miss Turpin," Snape called.
"Your potion could explode?" The little mousy blond girl hesitantly spoke.
"It can do much more than that," Snape spoke. "It can burn, implode, poison, cut, destroy, become acid, turn itself into fire, become hard as a rock, turn itself a boiling vapor that could melt your skin off, and can turn anything it touches into a smoldering patch of ashes. And those are only a few things that I can think of right off the top of my head." He paused, looking over the classroom full of eleven-year-olds. "I do not tolerate anybody who does not follow the instructions."
Harriet finally looked over at the Professor. He was staring over the crowd of small children. Then their eyes met, as he spoke his next words. "And I especially do not tolerate idiots who forget their potions book."
It suddenly became clear. What was happening was an attack. Harriet was being attacked. And she didn't know why.
This was the first clue that potions class might not be what she hoped it to be.
(Error with disk drive:e. Please reset, or call maintenance. If this message appears more than once, please place the computer in a compartment that can withstand up to three nuclear bombs. It might explode.)
Harriet felt almost dizzy with happiness.
Finally, somebody to connect with. Somebody who understood her. And Neville was smart too! The one area that Harriet felt like she was an expert in was the various plants and magical ingredients. And he liked plants too! Hannah and Susan didn't talk about it. And they didn't have a lot of patience when Harriet stammered out her words. But being able to communicate- to write words down and have a conversation without the pressure of having to speak- was so freeing. A weight that had been pressing down had released, and Harriet felt lighter than air.
'What do you think of dragons bane? I find that it is useful in keeping the wormwood free of pests like the bowtruckles that would get into my granny's greenhouse. The heat of the dragons bane kept the area free of them.' Neville wrote.
Any pretense of listening to the class had been given up hours ago. Professor Sprout hadn't noticed or cared to interrupt them. She happily spoke in front of the classroom, bringing in big pots of dirt and showing them how to transplant different plants that they would be working with throughout the year. Harriet was keeping herself busy looking, but in reality, the written conversation took up all of her attention.
'Dragons bane has so many uses. However, I would say that a lot of plants can't handle having dragons bane near them for a long amount of time because the more dragons bane grows the hotter the area around it will be. Wormwood is good to use because it hardens over time until it's a piece of wood. Heat won't affect it all that much. However, if you're trying to keep bowtruckles away from other plants, I read a study in a book that said that bowtruckles hate nymphs. And that a good deterrent is a plant called nymphs choker. It lives in the water, but if you crush it and use it as fertilizer I think it could ward off the bowtruckles.' Harriet wrote before sliding the parchment over. She had to write smaller and smaller, the words on the parchment were already filling up almost all of the available space. They had flipped it over ages ago, and now there wasn't much room left to write. But Harriet was determined to continue writing.
"Neville." A boy on the other side of Neville whined. "What are you doing? This is sooo boring. Why do we need to know so much about plants? You just stick 'em in dirt and give them some water every once in a while."
"Well, Ron," Neville spoke, "plants actually are really finicky. Magical ones don't like other plants and if they aren't planted right-"
"Blah blah blah. Plants are just plants. I don't know why we have a class about it." Ron spoke. Harriet was watching from the corner of her eye. Ron spoke a lot during class. He was almost obnoxious, but Harriet had survived learning around Dudley her whole life. And he was so much worse than Ron. Neville seemed to take it in stride.
"You like plants, right Neville?" Ron suddenly spoke.
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad " Ron spoke. Harriet's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Because the entire time that Harriet had been here, she had been hearing Ron whisper about how boring and lame this class was. Then Ron finished speaking. "At least one of us will be an expert in plants. I don't want to touch the dirt."
Neville wasn't paying much attention. He was scribbling on the paper with a quill. Harriet waited patiently while Ron nattered on in the background. He was annoying but easily ignored by everybody around him. Harriet watched with detached boredom as Professor Sprout was digging around in the dirt with a spade. The note was slid back over the table, and Harriet's eyes darted over to it to read the new addition.
'I haven't heard of nymphs choker. I have heard of merfolk choker, though. I don't know if the two are related. Merfolk choker grows off of the coast of Greece. I have only seen it once when my granny took me. I thought it was beautiful to see it in the blue water. Apparently, it pulls anything it touches down into the water. They tend to drown a few muggles a year if they are stupid enough to get past all of the wards. I wanted to take some home, but I wasn't allowed to.'
Harriet uncapped her pen and began to write her reply. 'I think they are similar. But I am not sure. You went to Greece? That's cool! I've always wanted to go. What did you like about it?' Harriet finished and pushed the parchment back to Neville.
"What are you doing?" Ron asked. Harriet watched from the corner of her eye, but she was too slow. Ron's hand quickly snatched the parchment between the Neville and herself. Neville tried to stop him, and Harriet's hand came out to slap down on the paper to keep it from moving. But it was far, far too late. The paper was gone, and Harriet's hand only hit the table. And Ron had the parchment, holding it away from Neville's reaching grasp.
"Ron!" Neville whispered, "give it back."
At that same moment, in the middle of a crisis, Professor Sprout spoke. "Alright, everybody! That is the end of class. For homework, please write a four-inch essay on how to re-pot the right plants. I'll see you all next week!"
Neville and Harriet paused at hearing their teacher speak. It was obvious to the two of them that they didn't want to cause a scene in front of the teacher. Especially when it would reveal that they weren't paying attention and had been writing notes the entire time. It gave Ron the perfect amount of time to scan the parchment of their conversation, his face twisting in anger and bitterness.
"Ron give it back," Neville spoke again when it was safe to do so. The other kids were packing up, ready to move on to their next class.
"No." Ron spat. Then he crumbled the parchment into a ball, throwing it on the ground. Harriet watched with cautious eyes. What was happening? Was this normal? Did she do something wrong?
"Ron, why are you doing this?" Neville asked exasperated. "It was just a simple note."
"It isn't!" Ron spoke, his squeaky voice going higher. "Listen here, girl!" He pointed at Harriet. "Neville is my friend. Not yours!"
"I can have more than one friend. I have Dean and Seamus too. Why can't I have another friend?"
"She's a girl mate." Ron stressed the word 'girl.' "They're stupid and they only talk about girly stuff like hair or boys."
"Ron she isn't stupid!" Neville then turned to her, "Harriet I'm so sorry. Ron is just being a pest right now." It was the first time he spoke to her.
"I-it's al-alright." Harriet stammered out, gathering her things and shoving them into her bag. Their conversation was drawing other people's attention and she was starting to feel uncomfortable.
Ron snorted. "You sound like Professor Quirrell. H-ha-hello." He stammered out his words, then rolled his eyes. "Geeze, can't people just talk normally? See Neville, this is why you shouldn't talk with her. She's just after you because you're famous."
"Shut up Ron," Neville spoke again, but this time much firmer. "I'm really sorry, Harriet. Just ignore him, please?"
Harriet nodded, unwilling to speak now. Peaking from behind her hair, Harriet saw Ron giving her a heated glare.
Somehow, Harriet knew that Ron wasn't going to let this go.
Harriet focused on the task at hand. Her brow wrinkled in the concentration as she slowly moved the quill up and down the page. But no matter how much effort she put into it, the words came out wrong. Ink blotted the page. Her words bled together into a mess of black ink that stained her hands and face. Harriet stared miserably down at her fourth parchment that had been effectively ruined.
Harriet couldn't write with a quill to save her life. Her stomach sank, and she could only imagine what would happen if she couldn't get the hang of this. The memory of Professor Snape lighting her report on fire in front of the class, moments after turning it in, was still fresh in her memory. It was the second week of school now. And slowly, but surely, her reports have been turned back to her with failing marks. Harriet hadn't realized it, but writing with a pen wasn't allowed.
She had to use a quill and ink. Susan had given her a set. Hannah had given her some tips on it all, but Harriet was absolutely miserable. Nothing seemed to be going right. And her efforts were backfiring her.
A candle was lit on the desk. It was past midnight and in the early hours of the morning. Harriet blinked a few times, her eyes burning from the strain. Took a deep breath. And took out another piece of parchment, dipping the quill back into the ink pot.
She was going to get it perfect this time.
('Error. The universes are invalid. Please restart your desktop once more.'
"Why is it saying that?" Asked the Entity.
"I dunno. It's an Apple product. They tend to break down after a while." Shrugged the slime-man.
"Oh.")
Harriet felt dizzy. Nauseous.
That was the first thing that came to mind. The second was the burning hot pain that shot up her arm.
She laid there, stunned, on the grass. Staring up at the clouds above her that floated gently in the sky. It felt almost peaceful. It was such a vast contrast of the chaos and havoc that had only happened to her moments prior. Even though the event happened only seconds ago, all Harriet could recall was the blur of colors and the panic, cold wind hitting her face and biting at her. The moment where something caught her clothes and she hung there, so far off of the ground. The moment where Harriet looked over Hogwarts and felt fear, as her robes ripped and she fell.
A broom laid broken by her feet.
"Miss Potter!" A woman shouted. Madam Hooch, Harriet's brain slowly crawled to give her the answer. Harriet attempted once to move, but the second she tried to use her muscles the aching burning in her arm lit up with a bright flash of agony. Harriet bit her lip and kept the pathetic whimper from escaping. She was so used to having to keep quiet that it was an ingrained part of her whenever she felt pain.
It hurt. But it didn't hurt as much as the belt. That was Uncle Vernon's favourite weapon of choice. The pain of her back getting whipped was a sharp pain, that always left her wheezing afterward. Having her bone break wasn't as painful in the slightest compared to that. Yeah it hurt, and it ached, but it didn't stop her from breathing.
The footsteps came nearer. Pounding against the grass. And finally, Madam Hooch's face loomed over her, concern wrinkling her forehead. "Miss Potter, are you alright?"
Harriet could only nod weakly. "Oh dear," Madam Hooch spoke. "It looks like you've hit your head fairly hard. No matter! One quick trip to the infirmary will sort you out. You'll be right as rain by dinner." Madam Hooch's hands came up and helped Harriet lift herself to her feet. Harriet was light-headed, swaying lightly as her sense of balance temporarily was ruined. Her face fell into a natural state of blankness, a type of protection that she had used for years when she felt vulnerable.
There were kids surrounding her. Susan and Hannah were in the front, concern written on their faces. The Ravenclaws all had the look of shock on their faces. They were all facing her- so none of them saw what Harriet spotted. Her head had taken a knock or two, but Harriet's vision was still perfectly fine. Gazing across the lawn, she saw three figures ducking behind the shadows. Two of them, Harriet had never met. But she could easily identify the red-headed boy wearing Gryffindor's colors. They were moving away from the group, trying to stay hidden but failing badly at it.
The thought came slow and muddied as molasses. It was coming. But it was taking its time. Harriet blinked, as Madam Hooch was speaking to the rest of the class. The thought still didn't come as the Professor took her arm gently and guided her off from the field, towards the castle.
"She acts like Malfoy's bodyguards." A whisper came from the Ravenclaws. "She can't even cry."
The cool air of the castle hit Harriet's face like a warm welcome. It was a relief to something that Harriet hadn't realized was a discomfort to her. The warm sun vanished, and the cool air felt like a balm that soothed her skin. Madam Hooch spoke soft nice words that didn't really have an impact. All Harriet could do was just stumble in the right direction, depending on Madam Hooch's guiding hand.
The thought still hadn't arrived yet when Harriet was taken to Madam Pomfrey's infirmary. An older woman bustled over to her and clicked her tongue. But Harriet didn't notice it too much. She glanced around the large room, taking note of the beds spaced apart with curtains undrawn by them. The scent of cleaner and flowers was more of an afterthought, although it was a powerful smell that hung in the air. Harriet's brain was muddled and tossed around, just like she had minutes prior when the broomstick underneath her gave a lurch and she lost control. It lifted her up high into the air. No matter how much Harriet had leaned forward for it to go down, it didn't. And then it decided to fly around the castle at an alarming speed.
"She had a rather nasty fall." Madam Hooch spoke. "She hit her head."
"We will fix this right up then." Madam Pomfrey answered, and Harriet was guided to a bed. She sat on the white sheets and blinked. There was a pot of flowers on the dresser. The yellow marigolds seemed to be alight with color compared to the white absence of color in the infirmary.
And that is when the thought finally came to her. 'Did Ron Weasley bespell my broom?' Harriet thought to herself. The realization hit her like a train wreck. Fast and hard, sobering her up. The pain in her head pounded behind her eyes, and something began to take root in her heart. At first, it was denial. But Harriet could recall the rumors, the whispers, the looks that she would get from Ron whenever they passed in the hallways, and it all came together. Ron Weasley didn't like her. He didn't like her enough that he tried to kill her.
"Merlin," Madam Pomfrey spoke with anger lacing her voice, "your left wrist is broken."
(There are different reactions to how this time period ends. Harriet is a wild card. 291,315 universes had Harriet brought into the folds of Hufflepuff. There, she was loved and cared for. She gained numerous friends. Susan and Hannah took her under their wings, and soon enough Harriet was freed from living the Dursleys due to Madam Bone's work in the Ministry. Harriet lived a happy life, but in over 186,571 universes she was still forced to marry Ronald Weasley. Due to some bureaucratic bullshit, after the war, Madam Bone's wasn't in the defense department anymore and thus couldn't hold any more sway. The Ministry was already in shambles, and so most of the rulings went back to Gringotts. And they didn't care about Harriet in the slightest, nor her protests. They still upheld the contracts that were given to them.
In the end, the plans were still fulfilled by an old coot and his meddling schemes. But do not worry, my Dear Readers. Most of those Harriet's managed to get back at Ronald Weasley, and she sued him till he had nothing left. Not even his wand. But that took many years of her life, and with the support of her friends, she was able to move on and happily marry somebody else, have kids, and do the whole happy life thing till she died of old age.
But there are also the Harriet's that didn't fit in. You see, Harriet learned quite a bit in her childhood. She learned how to read by herself. How to count numbers, although she still struggled with fractions. She learned how to cook and clean very well. And those are the things that were considered relatively normal. As for the supernatural and magical, well, you know all of that already. Harriet taught herself a lot of things by herself. And she is considered to be brilliant because of it.
However, there was one thing that Harriet never learned. And that was how to be sociable. There had never been a need for it. Talking with children who were her age never came up. Dudley mostly just scared any other kids who might have been Harriet's friend. And so, Harriet Lily Potter-Black relatively grew up in isolation. She didn't know the social queues that other kids might have. She didn't know what to say, or how to say it at all. Harriet had no clue what to do with other kids around her. Harriet had just assumed that they were all like her, kids who enjoyed learning and being quiet.
Harriet was not right in that aspect. To her mind, there were kids who were like her. And then there were kids who were like Dudley. That was the only other child that Harriet had ever grown up with. But it didn't prepare her for how different everybody was. Add in the fact that Harriet was used to the muggle world, and the magical world was a different place, Harriet was at a disadvantage. Moreso than any other muggleborn child. No, Harriet was thrust into a new place with no understanding or preparations.
And that made her weird.
To the other children, Harriet wasn't received very well. A small girl who couldn't speak very well, constantly making mistakes, who couldn't even use her magic. Not to mention her appearance, with her frizzy hair and disheveled clothes. Harriet wasn't what you would call normal, not in the slightest. Even in the magical world. In those 291,315 universes, Harriet was quickly brought into the fold of the Hufflepuff clan and they didn't care about it her oddities.
But in the resulting 41,526 universes where Harriet wasn't taken under the Hufflepuff wings, Harriet was suddenly, and very alone. At a time where she didn't want to be. And an alone Hufflepuff is like a sitting duck.
You see, Hogwarts has this mentality. It's something that had formed, though out the years. It started when Salazar Slytherin had upset Rowena Ravenclaw by accidentally treading upon her prized bean sprouts. She went after him with a knife, with Godric holding her back while Helga slammed another tankard of ale and laughed at them all. Salazar left for fear of his life, planning on returning when Rowena calmed down a bit. However, he found himself in a bit of a predicament with the Master of Death. So he never returned to Hogwarts. History spoke about how he left the castle in a disgrace. Which, was technically true because Rowena had bespelled his trousers to fall down whenever he took more than a dozen steps. However, it wasn't because of some silly blood purity or whatever historians had made up. Instead, it was the beginning of inter-house rivalry.
Which continued to this day. Of course, the houses changed over time. In the beginning, it was Ravenclaw V.S. Slytherin. Then it was Hufflepuff against Gryffindor. Then Slytherin and Gryffindor teamed up against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but that was all quietly resolved when Merlin appeared on the scene. And now, the most recent raging inter-house arch-nemesis was Gryffindor and Slytherin. It wasn't nearly as cutting nor as painful as the previous wars. A few family lines have still been cursed because of the Hufflepuffs, and as such, the result was that Gryffindor's tend to lose a few more common sense than the average witch or wizard. That's why they were more stupidly brave than the other houses.
The thing was- all of this started when one person targeted another. And in Harriet's case, it was like she had a target on her back. Let's not blame the Hufflepuffs in this situation. It wasn't like they could defend Harriet against a teacher. Professor Severus Snape was a rather annoying man. He was smart. He definitely was cunning. But what an absolute douche bag. Snape is not a good man. At least, not in the Harriet Potter department. He's a creep, to put it lightly. And we do not look upon him favorably.
To explain why Snape was who he was simply would take too long. Probably a couple of thousand words, a few months, and a fanfiction would be written about his struggles. However, the General Entity and Narrator of this tale don't like him enough to put in the effort of writing it all down. He wasn't a great teacher, to begin with. He couldn't even do his job right. Heaven above, why couldn't he just have killed Voldemort and let his soul go around doing whatever while they got rid of the Horcruxes? Severus Snape made the wrong choices, and everything else became so much more complicated because of it. That man was in a position of power throughout the entire war, and yet he didn't do anything to really help either side. Why, do you ask?
It's because he liked being popular. He liked the fact that both sides of the war needed him.
Which is hilarious, because if he was a bit nicer, showered a bit more, and did his job correctly by teaching kids, he might have been a favourite teacher. He was a brilliant man, he created his own curse spells when he was just a teenager. Hell, he could have not been a potioneer at all. He could have gone into the spell industry where he didn't have to work with people at all. He could have been quite content never having to speak to another person of lesser intellect for the rest of his life. Something that Severus despised doing.
But no. He was stuck on something that we Entities don't understand. A simple concept. If a bit overdone. Humans enjoy waving it around in our faces. But honestly, we don't care.
We, in our job, do not understand love.
As for Snape, he knew it well. The heartbreak of Lily Evans pushed him down a dark path. And there was not much hope for him after that. If only somebody could have slapped him silly and told him that a girl wasn't worth it. Having a life in servitude wasn't very fun. Especially when he had two masters. Logically, we know that Snape made these choices because of his emotions. And we accept that. But personally, we don't care enough to know what love feels like.
And so Snape loved Lily Evans. Lily became Lily Evans Potter, marrying the one man in the world that Snape couldn't stand. But you know what? It was Lily's choice. It wasn't up to Severus who she married or how she lived her life. As far as Lily was concerned, Severus Snape made his own choice and they went their separate ways in their sixth year. Had she known that Snape was brooding and constantly licking his wounds because he had some sort of infatuation on her, she would have punched him and told him to grow up.
(And, on a pure technicality, a Lily Potter did that. Just not the right one.)
Snape is a man-child, really. And that night, ten years ago, when Lily was tortured to the brink of death, it was Snape who brought the Auror's to Godric's Hollow. In some attempt to save Lily's life. And instead, only saved her daughters life.
For a grown man, Snape couldn't come to terms that Lily was gone. Mentally, that was. He hoped that Lily would come to her senses one day. He dedicated every summer that he had off to making healing potions, tinctures, salves, anything that one day Lily would wake up and be his friend again. She was still alive. And that hope burned inside of him. Every other Sunday, he would visit St. Mungos, bringing with him a bouquet of lilies. He would sit by her bedside and just talk while Lily sat and stared out of the window blankly. Once, he tried to delve into her mind. It was dangerous, as the minds of the insane were so unstable that it could cause the caster themselves to go crazy as well.
There had only been white. The color white. And nothing else. Until the whispers started. Slow to begin with, they grew faster and louder. Invading his mind to the point it was hard to concentrate. Severus couldn't understand a single word what they said. And it frightened him to the point where he never tried to look into Lily's mind again.
But Harriet- oh the poor girl. She looked just like her mother. And Snape hated her a little bit for it. The wrong girl had been saved that night. He wanted Lily. And all he received in return was Harriet Potter. The daughter of James. Albus had told him throughout the years of the reports the squib spy would give him. How Harriet was a spitting image of Lily but was James' personality through and through. From what he had heard thoughout the years, was that Harriet had been spoiled rotten, and kept up the act of a shy girl to get what she wanted. Severus wasn't surprised at all to see that her wand matched exactly like her fathers. It confirmed all of his theories. It certainly explained why she was so awful at potions. James passed because he was friends with Slughorn. But this was Severus' class now. And Harriet wasn't going to get away with anything.
Which is absolute bullshit. Because, as we all know, Harriet is going to get away with everything.)
Lunch was after Herbology. Harriet was still feeling shy about the attention drawing conversation that Neville had with his friend Ron. The more she thought about it, the more shame crept up her neck. She wanted to hide under a blanket for a few years. It had been her fault, really. Harriet had been taking up Neville's attention. And he was Ron's friend first. She really shouldn't step on Ron's toes. It had been nice talking to Neville. Really nice, actually. Harriet couldn't stop thinking about how many things they had in common. They both loved plants, magical or otherwise. And he liked to laugh at her small jokes. It made her really really happy that she managed to get him to laugh. She had never made another person laugh before.
But overall, Harriet didn't want to become between Neville and Ron.
Harriet sat down at the Hufflepuff table, next to Hannah and Susan.
"Ugh, those Gryffindors," Hannah spoke. "That was the worst class ever."
"Why?" Susan asked, as she picked up her plate and served herself some sausages.
"That girl with the frizzy hair, the one over there?" Hannah pointed, and Harriet and Susan both followed her line of sight. "Granger girl? She kept on talking. On and on. It felt like she should have been in Ravenclaw because she knew everything. But Ravenclaw's are better because they aren't stuck up or talk a bunch like her."
"Oh yeah, I heard her from across the room." Susan nodded, "it's a pity that Longbottom is in Gryffindor. Could you imagine what it could have been like if he was in Hufflepuff? The Boy-Who-Lived? In our house?"
That was where Harriet lost the conversation. She glanced over at Susan, her eyebrows furrowing together. Boy-Who-Lived? What? Who was Longbottom? Harriet had no idea what was happening. Did she miss something?
"Well, it makes sense. He took care of You-Know-Who and ended the war. It's obvious that he was going to be a Gryff. He's brave like that." Hannah sighed, "he's a little plain. But I am sure when he grows up he'll be pretty handsome."
"His friend was being a right arse at the end, right Harriet?" Susan spoke, and Harriet blinked. The conversation was turned towards her, and she was ill prepared to speak. "I heard Ronald Weasley yelling at Neville at the end. I wasn't sure why, but Harriet was next to them. Right?"
Harriet's jaw dropped slightly. She blinked in astonishment. 'Ronald Weasley?' She thought, slowly processing the name. "Weasley?" She whispered, her confusion evident on her face.
"Oh yeah." Hannah spoke, "Ronald was the red-headed boy. In fact, I think almost all of the red-haired Gryffindor's are Weasleys. There are a bunch of them. See, look." She pointed over at the Gryffindor table. "The oldest one is one of the prefects."
Harriet stared over at the table. There were a few carrot-red haired boys. And they did look like Ron. Oh, Merlin, that had been Ronald Weasley. Her 'betrothed.' The boy who was going to take everything from her. Her inheritance, her titles, and her life. She'd have no money and be his wife. "The prefect Weasley, I think his name is Prancy or something. I don't know." Hannah continued to speak. "And the two other ones, they're twins. I've heard that they are huge trouble makers. They like to make a mess of vinegar on the floor whenever they try to break into our common room, at least that is what our prefect tells us. I think they're names are… Greg and Francis or something. I don't know them very well. And there is Ronald. Although I think he likes to be called Ron."
Harriet gazed across the room over at boys, aghast and shocked. She had thought that maybe Ronald Weasley was some kid off in Germany or something. It had never crossed her mind that she would have been attending Hogwarts with him. Or that she would know him at all. Honestly, she had never thought about the betrothal except on nights where she couldn't sleep. It was frightening, to know that was her future. And now it felt more real. Like chains were clacking along behind her now. The heavy weights were still there, pulling her freedom away with every second.
Harriet had to marry the whiny, red-haired boy, who yelled at her for writing a note with Neville. Somehow, Harriet didn't think that she would like him. At all.
Harriet was still staring at the older boys, one of the twins, when they suddenly glanced over at her. Their eyes connected. Harriet felt revulsion roil underneath her skin, breaking her out of her crisis. She stared down at her empty plate, her appetite gone. She felt almost sick instead. She took in a deep breath and vowed that she would keep away from any of the Weasleys.
"So you're the idiot Hufflepuff. I've heard a lot of things about you." A voice drawled above her. Harriet glanced up. A boy stood above her, which wasn't all that impressive. It was the last day of a long, and hellish first week of school. And Harriet was tired of being around people. And this boy seemed to be somebody who expected to push her around quite a bit.
"Not saying a word, huh?" He moved around the table until he was facing her. Harriet glanced up and down, analyzing him. His bleached white hair was pulled back by some sort of gel, his robes were pristine and looked to be made of a higher quality than Harriet's. A green and silver tie was neatly tied around his neck. That was an odd sight, as Harriet was used to seeing people disheveled. The boy looked neat and tidy. "I'm used to people not speaking, actually." He grabbed the chair in front of Harriet's small table and pulled it back. Almost simultaneously, two other boys appeared, taking the chairs from either side of Harriet.
She jumped, her eyes jumping from the two new additions to her table. They were tall and big. Both of them slightly pudgy that they reminded her too much of Dudley. And intimidating. She was supposed to be saving the table until Susan and Hannah come up to the astrology tower. They were running late. Judging by the fact that every class that Harriet had had so far every house tend to stay to themselves, so Harriet hadn't been worried by other's taking the seats at the table.
Apparently, she had been wrong.
"I will be blunt with you and use small words." The boy spoke, "I am Draco Malfoy, heir to Malfoy and Black family. That means," he spoke slowly, "that I am important. Now, my two friends here are Crabbe and Goyle." The boy on Harriet's left grunted, and then the other boy on her right made a similar sound. Crabbe and Goyle stared at Harriet. Almost unblinkingly.
"They are my minions. That means they follow me." Draco added. Harriet was starting to hate every word that was coming out of his mouth. It was both demeaning and insulting at the same time. "They have some problems learning, like you. They don't understand things easily."
"We can't read well," Crabbe grunted. Or perhaps it was Goyle. Honestly, Harriet wasn't sure which was which.
"Which is where you come in." Malfoy spoke, "I need a perfect grade in this class. The catch is, is that Professor Sinistra likes for us to be in groups outside of our houses. That means I can't just use Goyle and Crabbe. Normally, I would just do it all by myself. But I certainly don't need a halfwit Hufflepuff to drag my grade down in this class." He paused, "so I am going to offer you a deal. I will make sure you get a high grade in this class. As long as you do exactly what I say. I won't do everything, and you will need to pull your own weight by doing what I tell you to do." He held out his hand. "Deal?"
Harriet looked down at his offered hand, and her first thought was to smack it away. How dare he? He was so rude and demeaning! He talked to her like she was a child! Well, she was a kid still. But she wasn't a toddler. She was old enough to know that she was getting talked down to. Maybe Crabbe and Goyle were used to it. But Harriet wasn't. And then-
The idea came to her. What if… she took the deal. It would mean that there would be one class that she wouldn't have to worry about. And Harriet was great at taking orders. Aunt Petunia taught her that. It would make her life so much easier. If she just swallowed her tongue and pride, then Harriet could have it fairly easy in this class. With how much of a nightmare potions class became to be still fresh in her mind, and how much she was struggling in her other classes… being able to have an easy class felt almost like cheating.
But Harriet enjoyed cheating.
With a bit of hesitation, Harriet reached over the small table and shook hands with Draco Malfoy. He gave her a brilliant smile, his teeth too white and pointy. It was obvious. Draco won this particular battle.
But Harriet felt like she won something too.
Her thumb throbbed painfully. Harriet sat in a chair that was far too large for her, her spine stiff and straight. She wasn't sorry. Rage still burned deep within her. But it wasn't as blinding as it had been when she punched Ron Weasley. The anger kept her jaw clenched and her hands in tight fists, ignoring that her thumb was broken. Harriet was used to pain. And she pushed past it easily, ignoring it. She stared down at her hands, waiting for judgment with an icy glare. Her hair covered her face in a thick curtain, hiding her expression of fury.
"Oh, it hurts." Ron moaned, slumped in the chair that was a few feet away from Harriet's. He held a bag of ice to his face, making pitiful noises. Harriet refused to look over, knowing that her anger would rise up again. Ron Weasley was obviously acting it up. Having a broken nose didn't hurt that much, Harriet would know how that feels. And this was a magic school, where magic can fix his nose within half a second. Harriet knew this because Ron broke her fucking wrist.
"That will enough Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall spoke in her no-nonsense tone of voice.
"She broke my nose," Ron whined, his voice muffled by the ice bag on his face.
"I am aware of that." Professor McGonagall said, "but you may stop your moaning. Once this is over Madam Pomfrey will fix it."
"But it hurts ." Ron groaned.
"It will stop hurting faster if you be quiet." Professor McGonagall spoke. Ron sniffled a few times but didn't say another word.
Then the door behind them opened. Harriet had only managed to get a glimpse at the office before she was told to sit in the chair and not move by Professor McGonagall. Harriet didn't look around her after that. But from what she saw, the Headmaster office was rather strange. If Harriet was told that she could only describe it with two words or less, she would have said it was 'whimsically magical.' It was decorated with red and gold, bits and bobbles were lining the shelves that moved with the light. A large bookcase covered the back wall, and the sorting hat was placed on it, along with thick tomes that spoke of knowledge.
"Professor Sprout. Thank you for coming on such short notice." Professor McGonagall spoke, standing from her chair. "And Headmaster Dumbledore, I am sorry for the interruption."
"Oh, it's understandable, Minerva." Said an old wisened voice of a man. "After all, these things do happen."
Dumbledore.
The word echoed in Harriet's head. It couldn't be- no. It can't be. There was no way that the headmaster was Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore. M-maybe it was just somebody with the same last name. They were distantly related or something.
"Albus, Minerva, what seems to be the problem here?" Professor Sprout spoke, and Harriet flinched sharply. Nobody seemed to notice.
"I saw Miss Potter attack Mr. Weasley." Professor McGonagall spoke. "It appeared that Mr. Weasley had dumped a bucket of mud on Miss Potter, which is not acceptable in this school at all. And she physically assaulted him."
"That is not good." Albus fucking Dumbledore spoke.
Harriet was only halfway paying attention to the conversation around her. The words from the other people spoke rang in her ears as the revelation hit her. Albus Dumbledore was her Headmaster. He- he offered her a spot in this school because he could keep an eye on her. While he stole all of her money and then sold her off to- to-
"Miss Potter, I am sure that Ron here is terribly sorry. I am sure that all of this is a misunderstanding. " Albus spoke in a fond, grandfatherly way. Now that Harriet knew who he was, she could easily pick apart his manipulations. He was trying to be nice to her so that he could earn her trust. Speaking soft and kindly, full of love. But Harriet was unused to that. Miss Figg had tried to do that to her. She never got to have a fucking family because of him. Harriet's hand came up and covered her mouth, to prevent the unspoken fury and buzzing words that threatened to spill out of her mouth. She kept her head down, unwilling to look the man who had ruined her life in the eye. "Ron was just trying to be funny, I am sure." Dumbledore continued to speak taking her silence as regret or fear, "boys often do illogical things when it comes to pretty girls. Why I remember your father doing the same thing to your mother when she was a first year." He chuckled.
'Stop talking about my parents.' The words threatened to spill out of her mouth in a shriek. It took all of Harriet's energy to reign in the urge to scream at the man. 'You don't know anything about them. You don't know anything about me. Shut up shut up shut up!' All that came out of Harriet was a wet hiccup. A sound that Harriet hated more than anything. It was a sign of weakness.
"Your father himself was a bit of a troublemaker." Albus continued to speak, unaware of Harriet's rising wrath that built inside of her, causing her to shake down to her core. "You shouldn't take these little pranks so seriously. I am sure that Ron was just trying to get your attention. You are, after all, so much like your mother."
"Both parties are in the wrong here." Professor Sprout spoke up. "Prank or no, I will not stand to have Gryffindors dumping buckets of mud on my Hufflepuffs. Both of you broke a rule today. However, Harriet, violence is never the answer."
"It was uncalled for." Professor McGonagall chimed in.
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Which is why I still need to punish you both for breaking the rules. It's only your second week here. And so I will not be as strict. But keep this as a reminder, do not hit each other, understood?" He shuffled some papers on the desk. "Since Ron did not actually hurt you, I will take fifteen points away from Gryffindor. Miss Potter, you will be attending detention every Friday for the rest of this month with Mr. Filch. Understood?"
Harriet nodded, her hand still pressing up against her mouth to silence any noise. Her hair thankfully covered her from their view. She had yet to look up, to see the face of the man who ruled over her life. Her neck ached from hanging her head, but she still didn't move. The emotions inside of her threatened to explode, they bubbled up from where they boiled deep inside of her. It was difficult to breathe. To pull in the air and not expel it in a terrible shout and yell. There was nothing in the entire world that Harriet wanted more than to stand up and attack Dumbledore at that very instance.
"It's alright dear." Professor Sprout spoke softly, patting Harriet's back. "I know how it feels when you've done something wrong. Cheer up. You don't have to cry. How about you say that you're sorry to Mr. Weasley here and we can all forget about this."
Harriet hadn't realized that she had been trembling. They thought- they thought that she was crying. Because she was in trouble. And they wanted her to apologize to Ron. The idea instantly revolted her. There was no fucking way that Harriet was ever going to apologize to Ronald Weasley. Never. Not in a thousand years. She- she couldn't stay here any longer. She could feel herself breaking apart at the seams.
Harriet stood up in a quick motion, and turned on her heel, racing out of the room as if Dudley and his gang were after her. She didn't stop when she heard Professor Sprout shout after her, nor did she take her hand off of her mouth. Her feet pounded on the circular steps down until Harriet broke free of the Headmaster's office. Harriet finally looked up, her neck protesting the action, as she raced down the corridors of Hogwarts. It was late in the evening, but there were still students that lingered in the hallways. Harriet avoided them, taking hallways and passages that were empty and evading the ones had people in them. She was ashamed. Ashamed, angry, frustrated, and betrayed. And the last thing that Harriet wanted was somebodies pity. To look her in the eye and see the conflicting emotions that rose up and filled her.
She took twists and turns, climbing up stairs and dodging people. Harriet had no clue where she was at, but she still didn't stop. Until she stumbled through a pair of wide double doors into a cool room that was filled to the top with bookshelves. Tables were placed in intersections, a few older Ravenclaws were camped at a few. It was the library. To Harriet though, it a small oasis in a sea of discomfort. The air smelled of parchment and ink, the pure smell of books. A refreshing and familiar smell that offered a small bit of comfort.
Harriet turned at the first intersection and walked into the jungle of a library. There weren't a lot of people there. Besides the few Ravenclaws, Harriet didn't see another person as she turned randomly in the maze of the bookshelves. Her goal was to get lost. And soon enough, Harriet found herself in a place that she was sure that nobody was near. Bookshelves towered over her head, dimming the light. Harriet had no clue where she was, nor how to get out. But she didn't care.
"A misunderstanding." Harriet hissed to herself. Her voice was loud in the echoing silence of the library. "It was just all a misunderstanding, Miss Potter," she spoke in a mocking tone. "You need to apologize, Miss Potter. You're stupid, Miss Potter. I'm stealing from you, Miss Potter. And there isn't anything you can do to stop me, Miss Potter." The wrath was finally undammed and it was coming all out. Harriet wanted to scream and shout, to grab something and destroy it. But she knew very well that this was a library, and this wasn't the time nor the place to do so. Instead, Harriet kicked rather harshly on a bookshelf a few times and threw her bag onto the ground in a sharp motion. "It isn't my fault!" She whispered to herself, her words coming out sharp and cutting. "It isn't my fault! I can't do magic! I can't talk to people. I can't do anything right!" She kicked the bookshelf one more time.
It just wasn't fair! It wasn't!
Harriet wanted to yell and scream. She wasn't stupid! She wasn't. No matter what Snape said. Or her relatives, her classmates, or even Ronald fucking Weasley. She wasn't dumb! Harriet knew she was smart. She was good at what she did! And it was just the rest of them who didn't understand.
Harriet felt fresh tears come to her eyes. This time, it was because of her frustration. Other people were stupid. They didn't give her a chance. They just didn't give her a chance… Harriet sniffled and angrily scrubbed her face. Her rage didn't stop the tears that trickled down her face. Even though she hated the fact that she was still crying, she couldn't stop it. No matter how much she wanted to stop, the tears flowed nonetheless.
"I can't do anything right." She spoke once more, her voice breaking. "I can't," she took in a breath that shook her soul and grew silent once more. It was hard to admit things, especially when Harriet had tried so hard to prevent it. But when it came down to the truth of things, Harriet couldn't deny it.
Harriet was miserable here.
Two weeks in, Harriet hated it. She detested the classes. She hated magic. She loathed the potions teacher, Professor Snape. She loathed how he scared her. Harriet despised the other kids and how outgoing they were all the time. She hated the noise. She didn't like being outcasted or being called stupid every day. The only nice thing was that she could hang around Susan or Hannah, they were nice but they weren't her friends. If anything, Harriet felt like she depended on them too much and was a bother to them. The teachers hated her and treated her like an imbecile. Magic wasn't as special as it had been a month ago. It was hard work, reading, and writing with a quill that smeared ink everywhere. Every time Harriet thought that something was going right, she hits an impenetrable wall.
Harriet had never thought she would miss being at Privet Drive. But being here was different from there. Harriet could be herself in Privet Drive. The one thing she had pride in was being sneaky and doing things her own way. There, Harriet could make all the potions she wanted without ridicule. And being here, at Hogwarts… Harriet simply wanted to be herself and not hide. And that didn't go over very well.
The anger drained from Harriet all at once. Leaving her empty and hollow of emotion. And tired. Oh so tired. Harriet leaned up against a bookshelf and slid down it, her back firm against the cool wood. Her head fell back, hitting the wood as Harriet lost her energy. Opening her eyes, Harriet blankly stared up at the walls of books that lined the shelves, taking in the sight.
"Maybe," Harriet spoke with a trace sorrow, "I should just give up." The words pushed out of Harriet bitterly. She had always thought that she would never give up on something. But coming here, being outside of her element, Harriet was lost. And she didn't know what to do anymore. Harriet closed her eyes, as tears began to fall down her cheeks again. But this time, they were tears of defeat.
And that was when the book came out of nowhere and hit Harriet in the face.
(Somewhere, long forgotten, the Master of Death stands. A cliff that had long since crumbled away in the future was beneath her as she stared out into the ocean. A storm approached, she watched with vibrant green eyes Thunder rumbled over the noise of the water as it hurled itself against the rocks, sending a spray of mist into the air. The smell of algae and salt embedded itself into everything, soaking into her clothes and lingering on her skin.
"Are you entertained?"
The Master of Death looked behind her, her long twirling red hair fanning out in the wind. She smiles, a friendly gesture, to the cloaked figure. "It's mesmerizing to watch." She replied the cool air that was charged with the energy of the storm rushed past her as the wind howled. The Master of Death glanced back at the sea, her eyes catching the waves crashing against the rocks.
"You shouldn't mess with powers higher than yours. Especially if it involves Fate."
The Master of Death huffed with laughter. She closed her eyes, feeling how the wind caressed her body as it tried to tug her over the edge of the cliff, and smiled bitterly to herself. "Oh, I think you have it all wrong." She spoke softly, knowing that the unearthly figure behind her could hear her perfectly well. With one sharp motion, she turned and walked away from the cliff, her cloak fanning out behind her. She walked with that unearthly grace, smooth and without a hitch in her step. As she stepped away from the cliff, it began to crumble in on itself, falling into the ocean, the sound ate up by the howling wind. She stops close to the figure in the dark cloak.
Death stared down at his Master. And she looked back at him with her vibrant green eyes.
"I might mess with things with a higher power. But they wouldn't be able to touch me. Not with you next to me. And I know perfectly well that you love screwing with Fate's plan up more than anything." The Master of Death Spoke, staring into the darkness of Death. "Ever since you she made that damned prophecy about the deathly hallows. You let me sneak into the Office and change things around, just because you're a meddling old goon who loves to make chaos."
"And besides," the Master of Death turned suddenly, looking back at the sea that roiled and crashed angrily. "It was all supposed to happen anyway."
Lightning flashed in the distance, and thunder answered as it rumbled across the sky.)
("I've fixed it." The manager of the I.T. department clapped his six hands together. "It was tricky, but it looks like you managed to get a virus of some kind. We reset your computer and it seems like everything is in order."
"Thank you." The Entity spoke miserably. It has been a rather long day and they were now a full day behind on work. It could take them weeks to get everything sorted out.
"Next time you illegally download the third remake of Fast and Furious series, don't do it on your office computer." He warned.
"I won't." The Entity sighed tiredly. They hadn't. It was actually the fifth Incredible's movie. It was the Entity's favorite, and they couldn't help themselves.)
Harriet held her head in her hands, groaning. Her head throbbed even worse now. The flash of pain that arrived moments after the book had collided with her face was a surprise that Harriet had not expected. Well, to be fair, nobody expected that a book would fall on their head. Harriet felt wet blood seeping out of her nose as she touched it gingerly. It didn't feel broken, but the irony of having a broken nose after punching Weasley wasn't lost on her.
"Shit," Harriet mumbled to herself. She looked up, one hand still covering her nose as it leaked blood. Her other hand snatched the book from where it fell. She glanced at the cover, but it didn't have any title or author written on the front. Then she craned her head up to look up at the bookshelves above her. There didn't seem to be an open space in between the books above her. Where on earth did this come from?
Harriet glanced down at the hefty novel in her hand. She turned it onto its side, scanning the spine of the book. Ah, there it was… E. Weasley. Harriet glanced up, and then her brain kicked in.
Wait wait wait.
Weasley?
Harriet glanced down once more. She knew that name intimately. It was the author of 'Ingredients and Why They Do What They Do.' The one book that she had practically worshiped when she was younger. Even to this day, Harriet had the contents of it memorized. It was her mum's favorite book. And it helped Harriet out the most when it came to making potions.
Was this the same author? There wasn't a title on the front or the side of it. Harriet flipped it open to the cover and curiously found the title page. And stopped. She almost didn't dare to breathe. There was no way- how on earth- why? This book had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and it was too good to be true. Harriet glanced around her, wondering if this was somebody's idea of a joke. But she didn't see anybody at all. Was this some sort of trap? Harriet didn't believe for one second that by pure coincidence that this book magically took a hop on her head.
Harriet snapped the book shut. She was going to put it back on a shelf. Any shelf. It didn't matter. She obviously couldn't trust this. Perhaps it was a plot conceived by Dumbledore to mess her up. Maybe he was trying to manipulate her again. Trying to make her do what he wanted.
But then again…
Harriet hesitated. But there was a small chance… that perhaps this book was what she needed. And somehow some magical being out there had heard her wishes and gave her the book. Not that Harriet believed in higher powers. But the coincidence was too suspicious. But it was also her only chance. Okay, fine. Harriet was going to take the dumb book. But she wasn't going to do things willy-nilly. She will take her time and see if this really was a trap.
Harriet tucked, 'How to Unblock Your Magical Abilities and Other Things' by E. Weasley into her bag. And hoped she wasn't making a mistake.