[I feel that it does need to be said. But we aren't perfect. We might boast, and take pride in what we do. But the key importance is that we are wrong sometimes. We are imperfect.

I would like to say that perhaps, I am the most normal person in the Mauraders. And that is probably saying something, as I am the one who has a rather deadly disease. Padfoot is a little twerp. Prongs probably has the biggest ego out of all of us. And Wormtail loves to get payback too much. Me? I think I am the smart one, but that would be wrong. Padfoot and Prongs both excel in their classes, and I only succeed in the classes that they don't take, because they both say those classes are just too hard. I don't think it's that difficult, runes and arithmancy require more homework, that's all. Prongs is fantastic at Quidditch, and Padfoot is amazing at Defense Against the Dark Arts. Wormtail is only second to Prongs at transfiguration. I'm pants at it.

But you know what? Padfoot snores. Even as a dog. It wakes me up and I have to cast Silencio on him. But you know what is the worst? When he snores so loud that it actually shakes the bed. I can't mute that. Those are the nights I go and kick him.

And Prongs, merlin, don't even get me started. He uses my towel. Like, he has three of his own. And yet, without fail, he uses my towel every day. I've talked to him about it, but he claims he doesn't use mine. Well, my towel is green. And all of his towels are red and gold. Guess. Guess how he still mixes them up. I can't, and he's supposed to be the smart one. At this point, I started to use his because I don't want his stupid hair on me.

And then there is Wormtail. He is the worst, believe me. He doesn't flush. It's rank. He claims that it isn't him. But I know it is. I know. Out of all of us, I am the one with a sensitive nose. He can't lie to me.

And guess what? My ultimate revenge is writing it all down. I had to live with these fools for seven years. I had to watch them as they chewed their food with their mouths open. I had to witness and remove their ghastly smelling socks. I had to clean up their messes when the house-elves quit. You wanna know why they quit? Padfoot got loused one night. Completely drunk. And he decided to lift his leg on every single bedpost to mark his territory. Guess who cleaned that up too? Me. I did all of the dirty work. Every time.

So this is how I am getting them back. You will know about every single nasty thing that they did. They like to be pompous asses in every entry they make me write. Pretend they're super cool and amazing. Guess what, if their girlfriends knew what they did then they'd dump them faster than lightning. So here is my prioritized list about what I had to deal with in Hogwarts, and they deserve it.

Wormtail once shat in the shower. Why? I have no clue.

Prongs turned into a deer and tried to hump his bed. It did not work. And let me tell you having to explain to McGonagall why Prong's had ripped bedsheets was not a fun experience. I ended up having to tell her that Prongs had a night terror and ended up going bonkers and ripped them with his teeth. Not the best lie, but he didn't deserve a better one…

[the rest is not going to be recorded due to the fact that the list goes up to the number 137, and spans across sixteen pages. The odd thing was that these pages were free from any writing from the other Marauders, which, in of itself, speaks volumes.]

-Moony, Victorious, Spiteful, and Cackling in the distance

-Excerpt from the Marauders Componium]

Overall, Harriet was willing to let it all drop. Satisfied by her prank, Harriet was surfing in a cloud of pride. She didn't really mind the smaller things anymore. She was too consumed with her knowledge of a successful prank that she felt it would be best to just let bygones be bygones. The crazed need and desire to prank ebbed away soon after Harriet's plan had succeeded, and Harriet finally felt a little bit more centered. A little bit more steady. A piece of her missing confidence had reappeared, and suddenly Harriet felt a little less scared and a touch more at ease in Hogwarts.

Overall, Harriet was moving on. She was beginning to formulate her own plans. Ways of avoiding the Hufflepuff house were just beginning to appear in her head. Perhaps using her map, she could find an abandoned area to create her potion room. That, and she needed to find her way around the library to locate the books on blood magic. Harriet was certain that the library had them. It was a field of magic in its own right. It was just as important as transfiguration or charms. There had to be at least one or two books. Harriet was certain they were all on the taller shelves, the ones that Harriet couldn't reach because of her height.

Pranking was the last thing on Harriet's mind now.

That is- until the mail came in on Monday morning.

Harriet was lost in thought when the mail came in. Owls swooped down, a daily occurrence that Harriet didn't bat an eyelash to anymore. She was staring angrily down at a pile of eggs that had been forced onto her plate, and she was stabbing them over and over with her fork before she mustered up enough courage to actually eat the dreaded things. And then… the room grew quiet. Not like how the sound had cut off, only a few days ago when the bubbles appeared. But people stopped talking or began to whisper in hushed tones. That brought Harriet out of her thoughts as she looked around.

Once again, the attention was focused on the Gryffindor table. Harriet glanced over to see what people were looking at, but she didn't see anything out of place. There were people eating. Nobody grew antlers out of their heads. Nor was anybody standing on their hands. Harriet tried to find what everybody was looking at but failed to see anything different.

"Oh no," Susan spoke, with a hint of dismay. "A howler."

"Serves them right." Hannah sniffed, "after what they did to our showers? It took ages to get rid of the bubbles."

A howler? The question had no sooner crossed Harriet's mind when she spotted it. A red envelope. The only reason why she was able to spot it was that it began to float as the two red-headed boys (' Weasleys' Harriet's mind cursed inwardly) were digging into their bags frantically. Harriet watched with fascination, unsure what was happening but intrigued. The red envelope began to twist into itself, and the two boys were dumping the contents of their bags onto the floor in desperation to get to something. The other Gryffindors were moving away, grabbing their dishes and whatever plates of food that they could carry and taking it elsewhere.

Finally, Harriet watched as one of the boys grabbed what seemed to be ear warmers and shoved them onto their heads. The other boy soon followed, and it was just in time too. The letter ripped itself apart.

"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY JUST WAIT UNTIL I TELL YOUR FATHER." A woman's voice boomed out across the hall. Harriet jumped, not because of the sudden and loud noise. But because the letter actually exploded open. Objects in the room slid back by the force of the 'howler' that Susan had aptly described. "I AM SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU TWO. ABSOLUTELY DISAPPOINTED. BUBBLES? REALLY? I THOUGHT YOU TWO HAD SOME SENSE IN YOUR HEADS. WHAT IN MERLIN'S MIND DID YOU THINK THAT IT WOULD BE ALRIGHT TO MAKE BUBBLES COME OUT OF EVERY SINK AND SHOWER IN HOGWARTS? DID YOU NOT THINK THAT I WOULD BE INFORMED OF YOUR LITTLE PRANK?"

With every syllable, the air pushed back with a small gust. Harriet blinked furiously, but her efforts were thwarted by making her eyes water with the air pressure hitting them. A few dishes hit the floor, and Harriet swore she heard somebody say, "aw no, my bacon." But it was quickly drowned out by the howler screaming. The noise echoed back and forth against the walls and floor.

Harriet just braced herself and waited for it the onslaught of noise and air pressure to be over.

"YOU TWO ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE. I ASKED FOR ONE THING THIS YEAR, ONE THING! I WANTED YOU TWO TO BEHAVE. AND THIS IS WHAT I GET? YOU MIGHT THINK THAT LIFE IS ALL ABOUT FUN AND GAMES, BUT IT ISN'T. YOU TWO NEED TO GROW UP. YOU TWO NEED TO BE LIKE PERCY. HE AT LEAST PAYS ATTENTION IN CLASS, UNLIKE THE TWO OF YOU. EXPECT A STERNLY WORDED LETTER FROM YOUR FATHER TONIGHT, AND YOU BOTH ARE GROUNDED! YOU ARE TO STAY AT HOGWARTS DURING CHRISTMAS INSTEAD OF GOING TO LEE'S HOUSE. IF I HEAR ANY MORE JOKES COMING FROM YOU THIS YEAR THEN YOU WON'T BE GOING TO ANY FRIENDS HOUSE UNTIL YOU ARE SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD. Percy, darling you are doing so well. I'm so glad to hear that you are enjoying being a prefect. Keep up the good work. Love, Mom."

Harriet blinked and realized that it was over. It was finally over. After such a long and abrasive noise, she thought it was never going to end. Her twisted and wavy hair was blown back from her face, and she blinked in shock. Much of the hall seemed to be in the same shape. People had their hair blown back by the force of the howler, much to the dismay of many of the girls who spent their mornings styling their hair. Dishes had been pushed off of tables. Glasses had been tipped over. Papers had been plucked out of bags and books and hurled to God knows where.

"Ugh, that was a strong one." Susan shuddered, rubbing the side of her head. "My ears hurt."

"I knew that Molly Weasley was known for her howlers, but wow." Hannah sighed, looking a bit shocked still. "I've never seen one that powerful before."

Harriet blinked, still shocked. Still staring straight forward, she saw the two Weasley boys poke their heads above table that they had ducked under. Simultaneously, they removed their earmuffs.

"Well, George," one of the boys said in a light tone, brushing off dirt from his robes. "What do you think we ought to rate that one?"

"It made a few things fly off the tables, Fred. I would say maybe a 7 on the scale," George replied. He patted his pants to remove the dust off.

"Damn," Fred cursed, shaking his head. "No matter how hard we try, we can't top the one time where we accidentally fried Ginny's hair off."

"The biggest howler mum had ever sent. What a dream." George sighed wistfully. "Oh, to get a level ten howler again. I wonder what it will take."

And that was when Harriet knew. She just knew that these two boys were troublemakers. These weren't the typical kind of kids who tried to humiliate others just to prove a point- they were jokesters. They were the kind of boys who reveled in the chaos that they made.

And Harriet didn't know what to make of it.

Her mild stalled when it tried to compute what she was seeing.

She watched blankly as Professor McGonagall came over and scolded the two boys. She saw the twins grinning the entire time, exchanging knowing looks at each other and giving the other playful nudges. Harriet ignored her plate and the rest of the Hufflepuff table as she stared at the two boys, who couldn't be much older than her, have fun with each other. She couldn't comprehend it. As the two boys grinned and rolled their eyes, laughing as the rest of the house either gave them slaps on the back or glares of irritation.

Something formed within Harriet. Something bitter. Something… angry. And she slipped away, unnoticed by all. Planning. Seething. And resentful.

Two weeks later, there was a rather unpleasant afternoon where everybody exploded in loud farts. For the most part, it threw everybody off. Because of how long for the potion to take effect, it was rather pleasing to Harriet to watch the other students panic in befuddlement. She watched, pushed into the background and out of the way, as older students ran around, the occasional fart echoing around in the castle. She watched with her hair drawn around her face to hide the small smirk that etched its way onto her cheeks.

Two weeks to get back at the nasty twins. The ones who earned her ire. There was nothing like her potion- nothing at all. She herself had made it. And Harriet watched as even the teachers had begun to panic about the effects of the potion. Harriet had slipped it into the dinner portion of the pumpkin juice. It was supposed to take effect in perhaps ten to twelve hours, however, Harriet didn't quite expect that the house-elves had reused the same batch of pumpkin juice and everybody had gotten a double dose, with the exception of her. Harriet had simply sat back and kicked her legs up, watching the show. And boy, what a show it was.

The entire castle was summoned to the Great Hall, where everybody sat uncomfortably as tremendous fart occasionally erupted from the awkward students.

The best part was that some people thought it was hilarious. Harriet had silently gone along with the crowd since Lavender Brown had farted so hard she almost fainted in Herbology, and was almost beaming with delight by the hooting and hollering of a few Gryffindor boys. It was a couple of the older ones, not the Weasley ones, who were cackling up a storm. Soon enough, a few older Hufflepuffs joined in. And a couple of Ravenclaws. Every time somebody let loose a big one, and the whole castle saw their mortified face, it was hilarious. It was taking so long for the teachers to come up with the solution, that it eventually got to the point where the students had started to rate the farts out of ten.

The highest one was where an older Slytherin girl (the whole house was quite unamused by this) had let loose a fart so loud that it not only flared her skirt up, but it also stank to high heaven. She got a perfect score, much to her sour and irritated face. The runner up was a small Ravenclaw who had actually torn a small hole in his pants at the seam from his fart. Harriet watched, absolutely thrilled that so many people found joy in her work. The whole school was gassing themselves. Waiting in the Great Hall, while a few Ravenclaws were now taking bets to see how long the whole school could go to until somebody farted. A few lucky Gryffindors were able to make a couple of galleons.

It was the first time that anybody had found her work so… funny. The only other person who laughed at her jokes and pranks was herself. Harriet was happy. She could finally share with other people her-

The Great Hall doors opened. In stepped Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the Weasley Twins. Harriet had mildly wondered where the twins had disappeared to, but had forgotten during the excitement.

Harriet leveled them with a stare, a simple smile on her face.

'Your move,' she thought. The twins looked neutral, but then they broke out into a large smile as-

As the whole school started to clap. It started with the Gryffindors. Then the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. They stood up, showering the twins with applause. Harriet sat frozen within her seat. Staring at the twins, who, seconds prior, she thought that she had one-upped them. She had beaten them at their own game. It was-

It was so unfair!

Harriet curled her hands into tight fists, her fingernails biting into her palms. Fury flamed in her eyes as she stared at the twins. They were blowing kissing into the crowd. They were bowing, shaking hands with a few Gryffindors who came up to them. They were getting patted on the back. They were celebrating.

Harriet's good mood was gone. Narrowing her eyes, and staring at the twins with deep hate. They were just like their brother. They were just like Ron.

And they needed to go down.

Harriet bit back her fury as a few bitter tears escaped. They stole from her. The ugly, pompous, evil, nasty, bastards. She'll get them.

There were a few more days until Harriet could make her Blabbermouth potion. She needed to use the moon to imbue her ingredients with its light. And then she would once again spike the pumpkin juice. Although, she had been approached by one of the house-elves who apologetically told her that they were not allowed to put anything in the pumpkin juice again. Turns out, the twins had also abused this idea to the point where the elves were told by their bosses not to allow it again.

Harriet suffered through classes once more, and then quickly dodged the rest of the Hufflepuffs that tried to incorporate her into the 'herd.' They weren't giving up. But neither was Harriet. She had gotten proficient at jumping out of windows (only on the first level, of course), using her height and skinniness to her advantage by hiding behind pillars. Hiding behind taller students. Finding the tapestries hanging on the walls and ducking behind them. A few times Harriet found passages and she quickly added those to her route.

Along with the skills that Harriet had gained during the Harriet Hunting phase of life, and her new knowledge of Hogwarts, Harriet was able to find her way around the castle without the presence of Hufflepuff's breathing down her neck. It was almost as entertaining as it was annoying. Harriet found it exhausting at one point to keep an eye out for the dreaded yellow and black ties. But it kept her on her toes, so to speak. It wasn't all that different from Privet Drive, where Dudley and his gang of tormentors played Harriet Hunting. But instead of getting fists, Harriet had to watch out for people who tried to mother hen her. It was better in some ways. But worse in others. Because Harriet honestly couldn't stand it any longer.

The one good thing was that it allowed her to find her haven. Ironically, it was underneath stairs.

Harriet had found it by pure accident. In the side hall, where the stairs began in the basement was an alcove. It was small, and at first glance, nothing was there. But a tapestry. It depicted a badger in a battle against a wolf. It was simple and faded. But the badger still moved, although its speed had been slowed down by age. And there, Harriet found a door. It was accidental, as she had trapped herself between two groups of Hufflepuffs. And there- she found her potion room. Funny enough, down the hall from the Hufflepuff dorm rooms. The badger on the tapestry was probably a clue.

An out of the way abandoned classroom. It was surprisingly huge, for where it was located. The stairs were carved out the wall and ceiling, but the rest of the room expanded and was spacious. There were old wooden tables that had inches of dust on them. A circular window that opens out to the Quidditch field. (Although that puzzled Harriet. They were in the basement of the castle, and yet the ground was far beneath her as she peered out of the window. But magic was magic, and Harriet accepted it and moved on.) But it checked off the boxes that Harriet had been looking for. Ventilation, close to her dorm room, unused, and was well lit.

It was there that the real magic happened. School was miserable for Harriet. That wasn't a secret in the slightest. Kids her age judged her for not speaking. They thought she was dumb, and they wanted to drag her everywhere. Her teachers ignored her or simply didn't try to bother to help her. Harriet could easily recall the look in Professor McGonagall's eyes as Harriet couldn't get her match to turn into a needle. Or how Flitwick stopped calling on her in class, choosing to turn his attention to the Ravenclaws. Quirrel never gave Harriet a second glance after the first day of class. Professor Sprout was kind and overbearing. Trying too hard to push Harriet into social situations. And Snape… don't get her started. He was so bad that he started to appear in Harriet's nightmares. He critiqued her constantly, his sharp words cutting harsher than anything that Aunt Petunia could throw at Harriet. From the way that she held her knife (which was just fine thank you) or how Harriet began to shiver in class. It hadn't been because she was cold. Nobody wanted to be her potions partner, and reluctantly Susan or Hannah would take turns sitting with her. It was humiliating. It was Harriet's least favourite class.

But this abandoned room was her haven. And it was the best thing that Harriet had ever wanted. The silence was welcomed, the soft simmering of a cauldron as Harriet slowly added in the ingredients. The shifting sound of the knife slicing through her ingredients soothed her. The heat that came from the flame underneath the cauldron warmed her cold fingers. The fresh smell of ginger and thyme lingered in the air, with a faint hint of lemon. The lemon part came from the cleaning supplies that Harriet nicked from Filch. But it still added to the whole experience that Harriet fully welcomed.

It was… safe.

And it was Harriet's.

All was well in the world. For a moment, at least.

The twins were the next ones to execute the next prank. Much to Harriet's surprise. To be honest, she wasn't sure what to expect. But the second prank of the Weasley Twins was noticeable. At least- for Harriet. It was the tang. That was the first sign.

Harriet put down her spoon and stared at her plate. She and wrinkled her brow in confusion. The first few thoughts that ran through her mind was that she must have been making it up. But the flavour of a grassy tang still lingered on her tongue. Harriet looked at her mashed potatoes and wondered if she was dreaming. Because- why would she be tasting lemongrass? Was this a new recipe?

The answer soon came. The first startling screech came from Susan. Harriet looked up in shock, as the typical blonde girl covered her face and began to cry. Loudly. The entire room fell silent and looked at Susan.

And then the potion hit everybody else.

"Oh my-" Another girl screeched, "Merlin don't look at me!"

The itch was the second sign, and then Harriet clapped her hands to her face automatically. And to her horror, her face began to change. There were shouts from every table, including the head table. Harriet watched in the mass chaos that erupted around her. Perhaps it was instinct, or because of the Dursleys who had trained her to be like this, but Harriet turned rigid and still. Unmoving. And then it reality dawned on her.

Her fingers dug into the soft curls that hadn't been there before. She pulled out the hair as far away as it's length could allow her to. Harriet's eyes strained downwards to look at her newly grown beard.

"Don't look." Susan covered her face, but try as she might she couldn't stop the sideburns from showing. "Please don't look at me."

Harriet was more preoccupied with the fact that she had a beard. She combed her fingers through it, the curls parting easily through her fingers. And that was when Harriet realized that she also had a mustache. And for a good solid thirty seconds, Harriet was absolutely delighted. It was so strange. To have hair there. But the longer she stroked it the more soothing it was.

And then reality set on her. Who could have done this? Well, there was only one possibility that came to mind. And the thought soured Harriet's good mood once again. It was easy to find her nemesis'. They were laughing and stroking their long beards, each of them falling down past their knees. They were having the time of their lives. Laughing and pointing at people, even as every girl in the Great Hall gave them the dirtiest look. Harriet included, although it wasn't for the same reasons.

"Mr. Weasleys!" McGonagall also had the same train of thought as Harriet. "In my office. Now!"

"But Professor!" One twin spoke.

"Who said we did this?" The other exclaimed.

"You have no proof!" The two of them spoke simultaneously. Gah! It was so annoying! That performance was the most grating thing that Harriet had ever seen. And that included seeing her aunt and uncle being flirty with each other. But this was worse because they were hamming it up. Playing dumb.

"I might not have the proof right now. But you two have a reputation." Professor McGonagall rose from her chair with the grace of a cat. Her beautiful silver and brown handlebar mustache did not take away from the terrifying sight. The room was silenced, with the exception of a few absolutely distraught girls who were sobbing. "Professor Snape and I will accompany you there."

Oh. The thought hit Harriet. Snape. Professor Snape. With facial hair. The thought both terrified her and was irresistible. She couldn't stop herself. Her ire was temporarily forgotten. Her eyes slid over the teachers. Past Sprout with sideburns. Continuing onwards from Professor Flitwick, who had grown a beard two sizes bigger than himself. Moving onwards from Quirrel who had an impressive amount of stubble. And her gaze finally finished it's trek and landed on Snape.

At first- Harriet didn't see anything different. The disappointment was astounding. Nothing. Not even a hair? But as she looked closer, her spirits were lifted instantaneously from their fallen state as she realized that he did have something on his face. A thin strip of hair that went from his bottom lip to his chin. Along with a thin fuzz that appeared above his upper lip.

A goatee.

The thought was both astonishing and mentally abusing, that Harriet couldn't help herself.

She giggled. Nay, it was not a giggle. For it was a snicker. Perhaps, even a choked on laugh. It could have been, for all intents and purposes, a cackle that was hastily covered up by her hand.

It wasn't the first laugh, as the room was slowly coming alive with chuckles and hearty guffaws. But for Harriet, it was a milestone. It was her first laugh that came from another person's joke. And it was, of course, the only laugh that had escaped from her lips this day. Harriet bent her head and her shoulders shook, as the image could not leave her mind.

Reluctantly, Harriet bitterly admitted to herself that the Weasley's won this round. It didn't change anything, she told herself. But the image of Snape with a goatee of all things was so outrageous that Harriet broke down into silent hysterics. All because they spiked the gravy instead of the pumpkin juice.

Smart bastards.

(She still hated them.)

Food was off-limits now. After the stunt with the beards and nearly every girl in the school complained about it, the house-elves were ordered to not let anything be added to the food. So, unfortunately, Harriet's Blabbermouth potion was set aside. Very reluctantly. Besides pouring a bit into some tea or contaminating the food, Harriet didn't know how else to use her blasted potion. It was her special one too! Damn it. Harriet really wanted to show this one-off. It was her signature potion, one that had taken her years to create. It was her favourite.

But now, what to do?

Harriet tapped her quill absent-mindedly on the parchment, staring at nothing. Her thoughts were caught up in different ways to exact her revenge.

"I cannot believe it," Draco muttered to the group. "Longbottom. He got a nimbus two thousand. A brand new broom. First years aren't supposed to have their own brooms. It's against the rules. Isn't this awful?"

"Terrible." Crabbe groaned.

"Horrible." Goyle grunted.

"It's no good-" Draco started yet another rant, but Harriet wasn't listening.

A smile turned up on Harriet's face as she stared off into the stars. A thought had appeared, and she grasped it with two hands. It wasn't the greatest idea in the world. But to Harriet, it was a decent start. It was the first thought that was connected to a string of others. And she pulled on it, slowly but surely following down the trail of thoughts until she had made her master plan.

Of course, her great master plan broke apart a few days after Harriet had made it. Or rather, her target quickly changed. But to Harriet, it was still good enough for her to still do it.

Harriet ducked out of Herbology was fast as she could. It was her trouble class. It was difficult to slip away from this one because she was under the careful watch from Professor Sprout. It was like the woman knew every move that Harriet was about to make. Slip out of class behind a few plants? Check. Jump out of a window? Double-check. Hide behind the taller Gryffindors? Sprout knew it all. The woman was too good at catching Harriet trying to leave.

There wasn't a lot that Harriet could do, for the greenhouse only had so many exits. The other option was just to skip the class. But Harriet was reluctant to do so because she liked plants (and nicking parts of them for her potions), and it was her only class with Neville.

Neville was the only person Harriet would call a friend. He was still sweet, and Harriet figured that they both clicked very well. They both found the silence between the two of them comfortable, and Harriet didn't mind getting caught by the Hufflepuff Herd afterward. An hour with Neville versus being with the Herd for a bit afterward wasn't all that bad. The few time they slipped notes to each other (when Ron wasn't looking), they were always filled with jokes that Harriet found to be hilarious. He made her laugh, and Harriet always left the class with a smile. Their group of three was the best partnership that Harriet had. Better than her changing partners in Potions, and better than astrology (although being around Crabbe and Goyle was nice, they were endearing). But they weren't as fun as Neville. However, the third person in the group wasn't ideal. Ron was… well. He left her alone after the whole punching thing. But that didn't stop him from making a few jabs at her. Neville was sweet. And Harriet was fine helping with gardening. She knew how to do it well enough that she didn't second guess herself as she did in her other classes. Even though Ron piggybacked his way onto her work. But spending time with Neville, who Harriet could easily say that he was her best friend, was worth it.

A few weeks into October, Harriet had only a few ideas left on how to escape. Really, she was just scraping the bottom of the barrel right now. Sprout had taken to telling her that if she didn't stay to walk with the rest of the group back to the castle, Hufflepuff will lose points. With the rate by how many points Hufflepuff loses every time Harriet attends her potions class, a few points wouldn't make a difference. And so Harriet simply ignored the threat, and once Sprout had released the class from their torture, Harriet bolted. She had tried the subtle ways of getting out of class. But that hadn't obviously worked in the slightest. Harriet had prepared, packing her bag early, and angling herself towards the door. The screech of her seat sliding backward and Harriet's hurried footsteps were the only sign, as she ran as fast as she could out of class.

"Harriet!" Professor Sprout squawked in surprise. "Get back here!"

"She went that way!" Harriet heard Hermione Granger, the bane of her life, call out from behind her. The Gryffindor girl was so annoying!

Harriet cursed and changed her direction. Originally she was hoping to sneak over to Hagrid's hut. The half-giant was nice and overly loud, but he gave her some respite. However, she did not want any of the Herd to find her. Professor Sprout would surely try to corner her again and tell her to, "open up and everybody wants to be your friend," again. And Harriet refused to go through that conversation a second time. Instead, she cut through a corner of the forbidden forest. At most, Harriet went in about maybe thirty meters before doubling back and sneaking towards the lake. She kept an eye on her surroundings and made sure she didn't go in too deep. At least, that was her plan.

At one point, Harriet got a little distracted by some moss growing on a tree. And she quickly went nuts over it and harvested a few samples of it. Hawthorn moss was a great ingredient when it's fresh. That was the only reason why Harriet didn't go ham on it and took all of it that she could see. Harriet had to come back and harvest some after the full moon. And Harriet took another few steps and then was distracted again- this time by some leaves. Such a rare find!

Sometime later, Harriet emerged from the forest with a few sticks in her hair and dirt-encrusted on her skirt. But she was beaming. She had so many new things to try! So many new ingredients to work on! Harriet's mind buzzed with all of the possibilities. She stumbled as she made her way to the lake, intent on finding a place to sit down next to the water and to pull out her notebook. She wanted to write everything down now. All the new ideas- all of the new potions she could make, they were in her brain and she wanted to remember everything she thought of.

Her plans were quickly halted.

Harriet didn't notice him until she was out of the forest, and was in plain sight. She hesitated. But it looked like Neville had noticed her yet. She stared, taking in the scene in front of her. In the forest, she hadn't noticed the sky had turned grey, casting the world in a gloomy light. In Scotland, it was a common sight. But it seemed to take away more colors than before. The water on the lake was dark, brushing up and down against the white rocky shore. A tree stood crookedly against the sky, the leaves had fallen prematurely and the branches were bare.

Neville sat underneath the tree, curled up and staring out across the lake. There was a feeling that came to Harriet, while she watched Neville. And it resonated within her. She saw… loneliness. And it cut her deeper than Harriet had thought. Without a second thought, Harriet walked up to Neville and sat down next to him. She trusted him.

The ground was cold, and a sharp wind hit her, blowing her messy and knotted hair back. For a few seconds, Harriet thought that maybe Neville didn't notice her. She was too afraid to look at him, in fear of being unwanted in his silent contemplation. She stared out across the water, looking up at the dreary clouds above.

"Hullo, Harriet." Neville sighed and shifted to the side. "What are you doing here?" He sounded exhausted.

Harriet glanced at Neville and shrugged, and looked down at her shoes. They were crusted with mud, she realized. They used to be shiny and brand new. She shifted her feet and bit her lip. Her fingers hooked into her sleeves, rubbing against the fabric and the texture of the soft material.

"You ran away after class," Neville said. "I thought I wouldn't see you until the next Herbology class. Professor Sprout took away some points from your house."

Harriet glanced over and met Neville's eyes. He looked tired, exhaustion seeping from his entire appearance. From his mussed up hair to his watery eyes. His lips were cracked, and his face too pale.

"Ron and Seamus tried to volunteer to go grab you and bring you back. But Professor Sprout said not to. Hermione said you might be going to Hagrid's, and she said that Hagrid was the only adult you like." Neville was rambling. "Which is probably true because everybody knows that you hate going to class."

"Are you okay?" Harriet softly whispered. The words slipped out by themselves and it surprised Harriet. Usually, she guarded her words like a fierce dragon, none able to escape from her mouth. And yet- it was so natural and easy to say those words.

Neville hadn't expected the question either. He stopped mid-sentence and stared at Harriet. She kept eye contact, although in any other circumstances it would have been unbearable to do so. But this was Neville. And he was kind to her. And now, it was time to be nice to him.

"I," Neville said, as his face went whiter. His words croaked out. "I don't know. I don't-," and he burst into tears. His breath hitched rapidly, expelling half-choked breaths that caught in his throat. It looked like he was drowning. Unable to breathe. Unable to stop. Harriet knew that feeling intimately, but she didn't know how to help.

"It's just- I'm so tired. And everybody stares at me in the hallway. And Ron doesn't like that, he thinks that I'm hogging everybody's attention. And he's been more of a prat recently. He's nice to be around, but since coming to school he's been worse. And I can't get away from him that easily, he's been hovering and-"

Harriet hesitated and leaned in. Carefully, and slowly, she leaned in and embraced him. Harriet had never done this before, and she kept her touch light. But that was soon thrown out the window as Neville reached up with his hands and clutched at her robe, shoving her into him roughly. He sobbed into her dirty shirt and tie, his words were muffled as he let loose a torrent of emotion. His breath was hot and warm, much like the rest of his tears. And Harriet moved in closer to shield him. From both the bitter wind and from the world around them.

This was Harriet's first hug.

And Harriet vowed that she would help Neville.

No matter what.

Because he was her best friend.

Ron did not go to his classes the next day. He was stuck in the bathroom, bemoaning to anybody within earshot.

Harriet had smeared his silverware with the potion instead, rather than the food. It was the first potion Harriet had ever made. It came from one of her mother's potion books. Harriet had added some slight improvements to the potion overall, but she liked going back to her old favourites. Ron was going to spend the rest of the day in the loo.

Madam Pomfrey had simply said that he had a bad case of food poisoning. He must've eaten something wrong. At least, that's what Harriet had heard from the rumors that floated around. The potion took its course, and by the next morning, Ron was perfectly fine. But for Harriet, she had made her next move in the complicated game that she was playing. Nobody batted an eye at her dirty trick.

But Harriet knew. And Neville finally had a break from his awful friend that day. And that's all that really mattered.

Harriet took her turn twice. The first prank she played gained nobody's notice, and Harriet hadn't really wanted it to. So Harriet decided to do something rather simple. She took dried yule-root and ground it up as fine as she could into a wispy powder. After that, she went around during classes (she skipped Professor Quirrell's class, because why not) to the different bathrooms and laced each soap bottle with the ingredients. With the exception of the house bathrooms that were in each dorm area, every soap bottle was laced with the powder. After that, she allowed herself to be caught by the Herd and was gently guided to her next class, and after that Harriet was guarded by the Hufflepuffs to lunch. Her alibi was secured.

At first, there wasn't any reaction. Nobody noticed that she tampered with the soap. It would have to take a few days for it to really ramp up. And Harriet was just content to relax and watch, she was busy with other things.

September had gone by so fast. And now she was in October, the weather was getting colder and Harriet realized that she didn't have a lot of time in the magical school. She was only in her second month of school, and yet she was already thinking of the future. During the summer break, she would have to go back to the Dursleys. And once that happened, she was limited again. She would be weak and have no money. Although the school year only just started Harriet already felt the pressure of her return. But there was one solace, Harriet would have her magic. Her father's wand. And perhaps with the threat of doing something weird might keep her relatives off her back. But that was just temporary. What if they took her wand? Her anxiety constantly threatened her.

E. Weasley, the author of her newest book, offered her a solution. And Harriet wanted to know more about it. During her wasted time with the Herd, unable to sneak away to her potion closet she found, Harriet contented herself with books. If anything, they were a great excuse. If she didn't want to talk (which was all the time), all Harriet had to do was bring out her book and look preoccupied. 'Basic Runes for the Common Wizard' was the first book that gave her some trouble. And it was just learning the basics! But Harriet was determined and began to slowly make her way through the novel. After all, she had learned from books about how to make potions. She had plenty of time to read about runes. They were different, and it was difficult to get her head around it. But slowly, Harriet was beginning to understand the simple concepts.

The second day passed after her sabotage of the bathroom soaps. Nothing happened yet again. Harriet didn't mind, it was like a loaded gun that had a trigger that could go off at any time. The Herd was keeping a careful eye on her, but Harriet was more concerned by her rune book than to escape. At one point, when it got unbearable, she did leap onto a staircase and raced it down to a hidden passage. But she was quickly caught…

They were catching on.

Harriet chewed on the side of her cheek as she lost herself in thought. Tapping her quill in its inkwell. The library was an ocean of information, and she always felt so much smaller when she was surrounded by the walls of books. The Herd was sitting at the table with her. Susan and Hannah were chatting quietly, while a few older students were scribbling on their parchments on the other side of Harriet. Harriet stared at a paper in front of her, her thoughts elsewhere. But in reality, she should be writing a potions essay. A potions book sat next to her. She glanced at it and stopped gnawing on her cheek.

She had stolen that book. Well. Not really but sort of. Harriet was both terrified of Snape and ashamed to be near him. He knew where to nitpick her. Harriet hadn't known she had so many vulnerabilities. But eerily, Snape hit her where it always hurt her the most. Whether it was the fact that she had second-hand robes. Her hair was always a mess, knotted and ratty. How her sleeves were not rolled up properly. About how she could never finish a simple potion, even if her life depended on it.

The book was a source of shame for Harriet. She had in every class, and for the first few weeks, Snape would always dock her points for not having it open. But how could she, when she had crossed out the potion in red pen and wrote how useless it was? He would kill her if he knew that. Harriet had absolutely no doubt of that fact. When he saw that she hated every potion that he was forcing her to make, Snape would think that Harriet thought that she knew better than him. And if that happened-

Well. It was an easy decision for Harriet when she found an identical book in the library. She had replaced her book with the older one on the shelf and never looked back. She regretted writing in that book. It had been a waste of money to get a new copy of the book only for her to replace it with an older version of it. Harriet had to remind herself that she couldn't change the past and to just move on and forget about it. At least Snape stopped taking points away from her now.

And since Harriet had failed every time making a potion, Snape had also punished her. For every potion that she failed to complete, she had to write a three-foot scroll about that potion, and how it's used in the magical world.

It hurt Harriet's very soul having to write about those junk potions. As she said, Snape knew every vulnerable part of her and he knew how to hit her so hard she was concussed. Everything she wrote was bullshite. Every word that she put down in the runny ink was incorrect. It was like pulling teeth. Difficult and painful, leaving the taste of blood in her mouth.

Harriet stared at the scroll and set her quill aside. Rolling it up, she placed it into her bag. It would be a waste of paper. Harriet's pride had taken a beating, but a brilliant idea came to her. She was too terrified to skip Snape's class. Afraid to feel his wrath. But at the same time… Harriet didn't have to go. She didn't have to write these inane papers. She didn't have to do this at all! If she just avoided Snape, then it would be just fine. He couldn't make her go to class. It was the most terrifying class Harriet had. She hated going. She hated Snape even more than the Weasley Twins. But… she didn't have to go to potions. She could just avoid going. From what Harriet heard, there wasn't a huge test for it until her fifth year. And by then, she could just drop the class altogether by her third year. She didn't have to go.

Harriet pulled out her runes book and bent over it, flipping to the last read page. Unable to go anywhere, as the Herd was still here, she was content on distracting herself in the way that she liked to. Learning something that could make her stronger. Studying something that Harriet liked to read.

Day three after Harriet's sabotage of the soap marked yet another Herbology class. Rumors floated around saying that a few older students went to the infirmary. But nothing big had happened. Nothing had yet really taken effect quite yet. Harriet sat in Herbology next to Neville, silently watching a plant that was blossoming in the corner. She didn't know that plant. She probably knew the name of it, and everything about it. But she had never seen it before.

Neville began to cough. At first a few huffs. Then a few hacks. But they became louder and more violent.

"You alright, mate?" Ron finally asked when Neville knocked an inkpot over in a fit.

Neville didn't answer, as he was too busy trying to cough up a lung. Instead, he leaned over onto Harriet, knocking her off her chair. She stumbled to her feet before she fell, grabbing Neville and holding him up with wide eyes.

"Mr. Longbottom," Professor Sprout called, "are you allergic to something?"

"I," Neville choked out in a strained voice, "think I caught Wizard Flu."

Ron's hand, which was reaching out to his friend, recoiled backward so fast that it was a blur.

"I see. Go to the infirmary. Miss Potter, would you mind going with him?" Professor Sprout looked concerned but stood safely back.

Harriet didn't hesitate to nod and began to guide Neville out. She gathered their things and held onto Neville's shaking form. They began their slow trek out of the class and onto the field of grass that stretched forth before the castle.

Neville began to breathe faster, his back lurching forward with his breaths. At first, Harriet panicked. He was going to die, and it would be her fault. He was choking! But then Harriet realized that he was muffling laughter.

"Come on," he said, peering up at her through his bangs, "let's go." He pulled her to a direction away from the castle.

Harriet blinked at him, completely baffled.

"I got you out of class," Neville gave her a goofy grin, "so you don't have to run away when Sprout lets us out." He was perfectly fine, no wizards flu at all.

Harriet looked at him, stunned. And with a large breath, she gave him a brilliant grin. "You're my accomplice." Harriet quietly spoke, and joy filled her words.

"Exactly." Neville grabbed her arm and gently pulled her away again. "Now let's go before anybody notices." And Harriet didn't hesitate as she broke into a run. The two children laughed with mischief in their hearts as they went.

They spent the day on the outskirts of the forest. Neville didn't seem to care that they were breaking the rules by going into the forbidden forest, which was, of course, forbidden. However, Harriet didn't want to mention it just in case he forgot about it. Instead, she pointed out several plants that she had discovered while venturing through the trees. Neville was happily excited about them as much as Harriet was.

They spent the day outside until the sun threatened to disappear over the horizon. They walked back into the castle, whispered words and laughter hanging in the air between them. Their robes and school attire was covered in mud and dirt, but the two hadn't noticed the state of their clothes. They were both in their little world, happy with each other's company to really care.

It was the first time Harriet could be the child that she really was. And it was wonderful.

Day four after Harriet vandalized the soap was met with some surprise. For everybody besides Harriet, of course. A couple of dozens of students were missing in the Great Hall for breakfast. A majority of them were Ravenclaws, Slytherins, and Hufflepuffs. Where Gryffindors were the least affected. The rumor mill was fast at work. Each of the stories was different, but most of them had the same things mentioned in them. Each of the missing students was in the infirmary, the poor Madam Pomfrey was going crazy, and all of the students' hands were like claws.

Harriet sipped her orange juice. She tiredly stared at the wall, wondering if she was in a different reality. She had stayed up the night before, and now the Herd was waking her up in the morning for breakfast. Little to no sleep caused Harriet to become pliable, almost lethargic like a sleepy cat. She gave a great yawn, popping her jaw from the effort. She blinked, stared down at her full plate and decided that she wouldn't be eating breakfast today. She simply wasn't feeling it.

"I heard that their hands are like, brown or something." A Hufflepuff whispered.

"I saw Larry Bittner this morning. You know that funny looking Ravenclaw? Well, I saw him this morning. He was walking to the infirmary. Not only were they brown, but they were like skin and bones. He couldn't even move his fingers. It was like his hands were parchment."

Harriet picked up her fork and began to roll around a tomato on her plate. It was slightly entertaining. More so than the boring gossip that surrounded her. She knew perfectly well what yule-root did. It was a preservative. Extremely dry to anything it touched, and with prolonged contact it could almost mummify a person's skin. Turning it brown and absorbing any kind of water that was in the flesh.

It wasn't painful. Not in the slightest. Nor was it entirely permanent. It was ugly, that's for sure. But with a healthy amount of lotus leaf and lotion, their skin would go back to normal. Not only that, but their hands will feel incredibly soft for a few weeks afterward. Yule-root was a common ingredient for youth-serums and hand cream.

Harriet closed her eyes, her aching head and dry eyes finally caught up to her. Pushing her plate to the side, Harriet folded her arms and passed out, unable to keep her eyes open any longer. After spending all of yesterday in the forest with Neville, and getting little to no sleep made her exhausted. It caught up with her quickly. And so she slept, a deep and powerful sleep dragging her down. And Harriet missed the rest of the performance that she had waited days for.

The door to the Great Hall opened. It didn't slam open like it did when Dumbledore came in. It only opened wide enough for a man to step in, his black cloak whipping behind him as he stalked into the room. The hall quieted, all eyes on the man who terrorized them. Snape slowly turned his head, his eyes observing each and every one of the students. Some of them shrank back from his deadly glare. Others showed nothing on their face, while others looked at him with daring.

Snape was not a man to be messed with.

And the entire school knew that.

He slowly walked in between the tables, gliding with practiced ease. Staring down at those who dared to keep eye contact for longer than what was necessary. The man could effortlessly control the attention of the entire room, and he did it without breaking a sweat. It was admirable if it wasn't so fucking terrifying.

At the front of the room, Snape paused. He looked over the tide of students, weighing their innocence in his mind. Nobody dared to speak. Hell, it was so intimidating that some kids were holding their breaths.

"Somebody," he at last spoke, his words hissed out from clenched teeth. "Put a very dangerous and toxic item in the soap dispensers in the school bathrooms." His voice dripped with his ire, softly cutting through the air. Although he spoke at a regular volume, his voice was loud enough to carry across the room.

Nobody dared to speak. To have Snape's wrath focused on them. Instead, every student watched Snape with wary eyes and bated breath, waiting to see what the man would do.

"I am familiar with its effects." Snape moved suddenly, walking down a different row of tables. "And so I was able to catch it fast," he leaned in, suddenly invading a poor Ravenclaw's space. Making the poor girl jump in her seat. "But I find myself astounded," he slowly retreated, keeping his eyes on the Ravenclaw. "By how stupid you children can get."

He stalked forward, his movements smooth and predatory. "Did you think it would be funny?" Snape asked, "to put such a dangerous magical herb in a place that would come into contact with a person's skin? Did you think it would be funny? That it would make a good joke? Yule-root is a dangerous product, of which I am certain it was stolen from my stores. With enough of it, it can destroy your limbs. Break them in ways that magic itself couldn't replace."

With a flick of his wrist, he slapped his wand down on the Ravenclaw table. The sharp noise of wood cracking against wood made half of the room jump. "There is a thin line between dangerous and stupidity, and what happened today crossed both of those realms. The only reason I haven't summoned the Aurors to investigate this delinquency is that, by pure chance, that you morons hadn't bothered to add enough to cause permanent disfigurement on your classmates." He continued to move down the row of tables, giving the Slytherins a glance before turning his full attention on the Gryffindor table.

"Whether it was a stroke of luck or you were actually smart enough to handle it correctly doesn't matter. This little joke went too far. And I will not allow it to pass." He sneered at Ronald Weasley, who stared down at his plate. "I will be investigating this. Personally." He hissed out the word, resting his eyes on Neville Longbottom. The boy didn't shy away from Snape's gaze, and after a second, the man moved to the older students.

"Don't think that I will let this go without punishment. More than eighty students are currently being treated from this. And there are several dozens also who are going to need treatment as well." He stalked up the table, taking time to look at each and every single Gryffindor, pausing on a few just to make them sweat. "Whoever did this will be expelled."

The words punched out into the air. Every student expressed shock. Whether they glanced at their friends, sucked in a breath sharply, sweat appeared on brows, or began to fidget around nervously. The largest threat that Hogwarts could make. Expulsion.

That means getting your wand snapped in half.

No magic.

"But you can't-," came a half-strangled voice. Hermione Granger wasn't able to finish her sentence before Snape descended on her.

"Oh, but I can and I will, Miss Granger." He hissed, his hand on the table as he leaned into her face. Then he leaned back, moving onwards, easily dismissing her.

"I will be conducting a thorough search into this." Snape continued as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb. "And I will find who did this. However," he straightened from towering over the Gryffindor table, "if the offender came forward and confessed, I am sure that sentence will be reduced. Perhaps detention with me for the remainder of the year. It would certainly save me time. But if you force me," he gazed over the Hufflepuff table like a vulture, "to continue to waste my time. Then the headmaster will not have mercy on you."

Snape stalked forwards, his gaze quickly running over the most intimidated house. He didn't linger on the Hufflepuff table, just giving each of the dimwits a meaningful look. He sneered when he saw a child with ratty red hair with her head down, but didn't do anything besides judge. "The next time somebody thinks it's a smart idea to poison the students at this school, let this be a lesson. Don't. Be. An. Imbecile." He punctuated his words.

He moved to leave, his cape flowing behind him. And before the spell of his presence was released, Snape paused. He turned and looked at the Gryffindor table with a disgusted look on his face. "Wash your hands more often. Even muggles knew how to use soap and water." And with a flick of his cape, Snape left just as quietly and quickly as he had arrived. The room quickly filled up with whispers from the students who still didn't dare to be loud, even when the professor had long since disappeared.

Harriet, however, slept on like the child that she was. Peacefully, and restfully. Ignorant of the world around her. To be honest, that was what had really saved her. For there were things that Snape had said that she would have vehemently disagreed with. Not that she would have said anything to the intimidating man. But perhaps, it would have shown on her face. But there were several facts wrong about Snape's lecture.

One, yule-root is dangerous. But not poisonous.

Two, yule-root is considered dangerous, but only if it's old. If it's fresh, it barely does anything.

Three, Harriet had picked it herself a few days prior. It took four days for anything to happen, and thus it was very weak. So she did not go and steal whatever Snape had in his storeroom.

And four, Harriet was not an idiot. Not when it came to ingredients.

She knew all of this already, and nobody was in danger of anything. But Snape's frightening display could have made anybody wet their pants. He was a pissed off man, no doubt about it. It could have been worse. But Harriet was careful enough, and she knew better than to give anybody actual aged yule-root to mess with.

But thankfully, Harriet slept through the entire encounter. Dreaming about being in the woods, and finding the most wonderful plants with Neville. Her dreams were slippery, but they were relaxing. And Harriet wasn't bothered by the world.

After that, the pranks came faster and faster. At one point, Harriet had retaliated one day, and the next the Weasley's had attacked the next. There were small things. Nothing too big for the whole school to be truly affected. Just mild inconveniences so that it didn't draw too much attention. It was an unnamed rule that they didn't bring the teachers wrath on them. None of them wanted another Snape-like lecture.

One day anybody who coughed or sneezed had puffs of glitter come out of their mouth or nose. Harriet didn't know how the twins had done it. It was brilliant. The hallways were covered in a slight film of glitter for days after that, much to the ire of Filch.

The next morning, Harriet glued the latch on the castle doors closed with super glue. The teachers couldn't figure out which spell somebody had used on the door, and after a few hours of repeatedly trying to open the doors, they were simply vanished away. The few students who were outside at the time were enjoying the extra time outside. Harriet was sitting underneath a tree with Neville and Ron, although the latter was definitely not invited to be there. Ron complained the entire time. Wearing Harriet's patience down. But she was the one who glued the doors right before Herbology, and now she paid the price by hanging out with the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. It wasn't all that bad. Neville was nice to be around, even if Ronald was nearby.

The next day, anybody who went through the archway in one of the corridors had to walk sideways like a crab. Weird, but kind of cool. It was quickly dismantled as Harriet quickly figured out that somebody had written runes to a spell around the door. All it took was a determined Filch and a couple of poor students who had detention to get rid of it. That gave Harriet a few ideas. When she felt comfortable with her knowledge of runes, she could use them...

Harriet took her next turn by taking the salt shakers on the tables and filled them with sugar. It was incredibly easy, the house-elves giving her all the raw sugar she wanted and they didn't even ask any questions. Harriet was gleeful to see that every single Weasley fell for that trick. They liked their food to be salty, and each and every single one of them spat out their food. The older one, the prefect, was quite put out and yelled at the twins for a bit. But the two didn't seem to care.

Two days after that, the suits of armor in the castle were prancing down the corridors. Their metal sheets clanged and banged around, creating such a ruckus. It was noisy. And it echoed down the hallways, into the classrooms. The portraits were giving everybody glares, holding their hands up to their ears.

Harriet was in charms, trying her hardest to will a feather to fly into the air. She muttered softly under her breath the incantation, but she knew she must be saying it wrong as the feather didn't move. More than half of the Ravenclaws were getting their feathers into the air. It was unfair to be in a room full of smart alecs. Susan had hers hover for a second, and Flitwick gave Hufflepuff a few points.

Harriet hated charms. And transfiguration. Because she actually had to speak in order to use the spells. Her words would get choked up and it wouldn't work. She was utterly useless in these classes. McGonagall had already given up on her, but not before telling her pointedly that, "your father was excellent at transfiguration, Miss Potter. Perhaps you ought to study more."

Bitch.

The noise of the armor snapped Harriet out of her thoughts as she looked up to see one passing by the doorway. It was noisy. The metal clanged and it did a little dance, shaking its ass at the doorway to all of the befuddled students. Flitwick chortled, and hopped down from his stack of many books and aimed his wand at the armor.

"This good charm work. Now everybody, see what I do. Finite incantatem!" He moved his wand in a swoop and a bright light shot out of it and hit the armor. Students were leaning in closer to see what would happen. But nothing did. The armor slapped its butt and began to wiggle its hips in a sultry fashion.

Flitwick blinked a few times. Then the shot a few different spells at the armor and yet nothing happened. "Hmm, very interesting." Flitwick hummed, and then said, "stupify," and a red light shot out of his wand. But to Harriet's amazement, the spell hit the armor and bounced. It hit Professor Flitwick instead.

Harriet's breath caught in her throat as she saw her teacher fall to the ground and lay there. The armor didn't seem to notice the attack as it did a jig, the metal clanging in an unharmonious heap. Harriet choked as she stopped the giggle coming from out of her mouth. The entire class was stunned, the complete turn of events was astounding. A quill dropped on the ground, the sound comedically loud.

"Merlin," Susan said, staring at Flitwick. "What do we do now?"

Chaos reigned supreme.

Unsupervised children tended to do that.

Things were working out for Harriet. Like, really working out. Harriet hadn't felt so… happy in such a long time. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt so light and joyful. It's probably because Harriet hadn't been so free before. It was a heady sensation. Between the missing potion lessons, which Harriet thanked the Gods for, and afternoons spent with Neville by the lake, Harriet felt comfortable in Hogwarts. It was a great time. And the pranks... Well. Harriet's fury was still there. But it wasn't her main reason for pranking. Now it was more of a matter of who can outsmart the other. The twins? Or Harriet? The twins could surprise Harriet more times than she could count. But Harriet liked to think that she did the same to them.

They certainly acted… weird sometimes. Harriet didn't think that she stared at them too much. But she did have the excuse that they were mortal enemies and therefore, Harriet had to study them so she could have an early warning. Of course. That's it. Really. But the few times that the Herd managed to find Harriet and had taken her to the Great Hall for lunch, Harriet found them to be a source of entertainment. Ignoring the people around her, mother henning her and driving her batshit crazy, Harriet would often stare over at the Gryffindor table. And they were annoying. Yelling. Throwing food. Talking with their mouths open. Gryffindors were, what Aunt Petunia would say, uncouth. But Harriet watched anyway because there was nothing else to do. It was better than the alternative.

Some days the twins were happy. Annoying. Cheerful. But other days, like the mornings that they had to get up early for, they were grumpy. They shot a few of their friends a glare or two. But the two of them were rather upbeat and untiring as a whole. Harriet had never seen them separated before. They were always together. They always looked like they just rolled out of bed, their robes were crumbled and their ties never fully tightened to their collar. But somehow they made it work. The ragged and tired looks they gave off made it feel natural rather than the look of a homeless person.

Harriet…sort of hated them. She didn't like them. That much was for sure. Harriet wanted nothing more than to beat them at their own game. She wanted to make them weep with her brilliance. She wanted to twist their arm. To truly become the winner of their little game that the three of them have been playing. They were smart. And perhaps, just a little bit, funny. But Harriet looked past that and wanted the gold medal. She wanted to win. She wanted to conquer so badly.

It was hard to do that, though. When the entire school believed that her pranks were caused by the twins. Every day there were new rumors. Whether or not that was actually about her jokes and schemes, sometimes they were about who was dating who, Harriet found herself hating the twins more when everybody thought that they were the ones who did her pranks. Even the ones that people noticed, they cursed the Weasley Twins. The bubbles, yule root, gluing the doors shut, and the sugar in the salt shakers. They were all credited to the boys.

Even the ones that Harriet had done on the side, like tossing a few pebbles of Soap Stone into the water well by Herbology. That had made all the plants turn blue. (That one caused Harriet to be a bit ashamed of herself, as it had accidentally killed three plants that Professor Sprout had tried to save.) Another one was the sudden influx of toads in the lake. Harriet had found toad-lure, a plant-like moss in the forest. She added a bit of water and left it near the lake. There were hundreds of frogs and toads that had appeared, a much larger amount of amphibians than Harriet had planned. Well, there was a reason why toad-lure was forbidden to grow on or very near large bodies of water. (Harriet had gone out and helped Hagrid get rid of them, feeling guilty that he was the one who was responsible to clean it up.)

Every single master plan that Harriet carried out it was given to the twins! That was very frustrating because it was her idea! It was her creation. It was her effort at getting up early in the morning and staying up late during the night. She sacrificed so much, and without lifting a finger the twins stole her credit.

Ugh! The nerve of them!

Although they didn't seem to encourage it all. But neither did they deny that it was them. They didn't make a mockery of themselves anymore. The twins, her arch-enemies, stopped celebrating each of her successes. They stopped bowing and blowing kisses to those who threatened them. But they didn't say that it wasn't them. And everybody assumed that they were the ones who did it all. They had a reputation to keep. Even so, it didn't stop Harriet's hate for them. They were her enemies.

Harriet stared down at her boiling pot, her irritation with her thoughts were showing on her face. A scowl drew its way across her face. The potion, a prototype of her making, was gently simmering. The blue potion was fluctuating between a deep blue and a rich purple. Harriet was about eighty percent sure that it was a good sign. She referenced her notes again and went back to staring at the potion. It was surprisingly giving off a cool temperature, although it was boiling hot. Yet another good sign. Things were doing so well that Harriet had drifted off into her own thoughts. And thus, she had put herself in a bad mood by thinking about those blasted twins.

She counted down in her head, then stirred the concoction twice. And then waited a few seconds before gently blowing over the surface, watching as it began to crystalize. The hardened potion reacted with her breath and was gently pulled under by the rest of the potion as it reformed back into its original liquid form. The crystallization was under control, but the stability of the potion was fluctuating. Thus, why Harriet was watching it so closely.

Harriet had never been able to work with real magical ingredients before. And working with them was both disturbingly easy and incredibly hard. Potions were her lifeblood. The soothing motions of making one was so easy, Harriet could do it in her sleep. But the unfamiliarity of some of the ingredients that Harriet had been using was throwing her off. Harriet knew each of the ingredients and their purpose, she had memorized her book since she was little. But Harriet hadn't realized how difficult it was when she was introducing magic in her potions. When something went wrong, Harriet had to figure out which ingredient had messed it all up. Was it the galician root? The powdered bloofer hoof? Perhaps one had gone bad? Was the quality of it wrong? Did she cut it up incorrectly? Was it stale?

It was frustrating.

But it was an enticing challenge.

Harriet thought that she had been creative before. But now, with new ideas and new results, Harriet found herself getting excited. With each failure, Harriet picked it apart and found something new to learn. Did it explode? Turns out- Harriet didn't stir it the right way. Did it become a geyser and splash everywhere? Harriet found out she had added the wrong part of a root. With each failure- whether it was a disaster or the soft sound of a potion disintegrating, Harriet figured out something new.

It was absolutely marvelous.

There was something about learning something new with each passing experiment that made Harriet excited. It made her happy.

Things were looking up. Harriet hummed as she gazed down at her potion, and then frantically turned off the heat. The potion turned into a deep rich green hue. A beautiful color. Harriet was a blur of motion as she picked up her vials and began to transfer the potion, ladle by ladle, into bottles.

Once Harried had done so, her heart hammering due to her sudden adrenaline, she stared at the nine vials that she had filled. The success of her potion hit her. It didn't explode, it didn't turn black and sludge-y. It was thick and smooth with a creamy consistency. It wasn't neon green. It wasn't white rock. And it most certainly didn't smell like death. It was the first potion that looked like a potion when it was finished.

Harriet went wild with triumph. Throwing her hands in the air as she let loose a victory shout. She jumped up and down, dancing as she celebrated. Nobody was here to judge her as she let loose. She just created a successful stable potion. A new one. With her own two hands. With magical ingredients! It was what she had wanted to do since she was nine years old.

Things were looking up. Harriet's life was going great. Everything was working out.

(When Harriet was done celebrating her newly stabled potion (she had yet to figure out if it was even good yet, it just hadn't exploded yet) she looked at her cauldron and let out a large sigh. It was covered in thick ice. It would take her some time to clean it off, and in the end, Harriet just stuck it in a fireplace in order to get off the frozen potion.

Looking back on it, Harriet might have said that it was a sign for what was to come.)

Believe it or not, the twins weren't the same person. They were two people. It might come as a shock to many. To give them credit, Fred and George tried very hard to be the same person. Overall, their demeanor and attitude were the same. And to the people who didn't live with them, they were identical in every way. Sure, they looked very alike. But both of them had many preferences and they liked to have a few things different about each other. Just like how Fred liked to sleep in most days. Or how George liked sour candy, but Fred couldn't stand them. And most people, mainly those who judged them, thought that they were too alike. Sure, they were kind, mischievous twerps. But folks never looked past that mask the two put on. But the main fact is this: Fred and Geroge were rather different. In many ways. And it came to rather apparent in this situation.

"We should blow up a toilet," George said, without much further explanation. He just sat down next to Fred, who was nursing a cup of pumpkin juice that was laced with a pepper-up potion. Lee had given them the infinite supply of pepper-up potions that they would ever need. And yet, somehow, they kept on running out. Probably due to Fred's addiction. Thank Merlin Lee knew how to make that potion in his sleep.

"No." Fred immediately shot it down.

"Oh, why not? Mum herself said we could." George didn't even pause before he began to help himself to the display of breakfast foods. Pulling the bacon towards himself and loading his plate up with the greasy salty meat.

"It's an idea, yeah. But Pratty Percy was there, remember?" Fred muttered into his cup. "And it would be a dead give away when we send the toilet seat home."

"Oh right." George paused. Promptly shoving the bacon into his mouth and chewing it.

"Besides, we ought to keep that until the end of the school year." Fred continued, after a small pause. "So that way we can limit how much detention we are getting. At the end of the year, they can't make us stay longer than we have to. Maybe after the House Trophy has been awarded. No points can be taken away."

George hummed in agreement, unable to speak until he swallowed. Fred just closed his tired eyes and pretended that it wasn't a Wednesday. That was the day that was in the middle of the week. And it really ought to be Friday now.

"What about," George paused and then took a drink before continuing, "we make the trophy room extra dirty? Like, comically so?"

"Filch?" Fred looked up at the table to find the disgruntled janitor and his pesky little fur ball sneering down at the students. "We'd probably get stuck trying to clean the uncleanable. Funny, yeah. But it would suck. Not really an impact we would go for anyways."

"Shit, right." George fell silent. "What if we got people stuck on the stairs? Got it to pause when it's in transition."

"I mean, that's not bad." Fred shrugged, "but shouldn't we be waiting for the Other Guy to go first? It's their turn."

"I know." George thrummed with excitement. He was practically almost jumping out of his seat. "I know we should wait. But we can think up something while we wait for their prank to go? Right? I can't wait. Like, what is going to happen?"

Fred gave his brother a tired look. Without looking, he picked up his cup and drained it of all of its contents before allowing himself to speak. He let loose a long sigh. This was nearly the only topic that George would go on about when they were alone together. The Other Guy was the name of the mysterious prankster. The person who would do sort of cool and brilliant things. Most of which, Fred and George would have no idea how they did it. It was admirable, and Fred truly wanted to know this person and to pick apart their secrets. It was cunning, smart, and Fred really looked forward to each prank that was revealed to them. But this early in the morning? No thank you.

When the whole school thinks that you did something, you are the first person to figure out that it was somebody else who did the deed. It was pretty apparent to the brothers that they weren't the ones who caused all of the chaos, like the farting incident. Nor were they the ones who bespelled the castle doors shut. Even when they were blamed for doing it, and interrogated for how to release the castle doors from being locked, the twins denied ever doing it. The catch was that nobody believed them. Except for Lee. Even though Lee had a hard time figuring out who was doing what. Fred didn't blame him.

"I mean, I don't know? They've done some pretty cool things."

"I loved the soap one. You know, with the demon claw hands. How on earth did that happen? Like, I want to know. Snape said that it was yule-root something or other. But like, how?"

"Did you feel Ernest's hands afterward?" Fred commented, "they smooth and soft like butter."

"If we could make that and sell it as a lotion for girls," George trailed off, in dreams of being rich. Fred agreed with him. Their future was pretty much set. Sort of. Well, the future was always a thing to worry about. But Fred had Seen their thriving business. He had watched as they made wondrous creations and sold them to everybody. That was something that he told George. When they were huddled together, after having a bad dream. He would whisper about their joke shop. How they could live without having to fear of bills. About how successful they'd be.

It was a dream. A distant, and yet powerful, dream. And the two of them were determined to catch it with both hands. Although, the hard part was trying to make it happen. They had to do things, make spells, create toys, fashion irresistible candy, and become the best . But the two of them had no idea where to begin. But they had a decent start. Lee was great at making potions, and he was their best mate and didn't hesitate to help them make some rather questionable potions. Fred was somewhat good at runes and charms, while George was great at transfiguration and pretty much anything he looked at. The hard part was trying to replicate George's wandless magic into something they could use.

"Although, the creepy hand's look was also pretty cool too," Fred added, humming thoughtfully. "Market that to kids or people who want to look sick or something. Like the vomit candy, that we have yet to name."

"Something you can slip to somebody." George agreed. He was the rash one, the one who jumped into things without thinking it through. Fred tried to reign him back, but there was only so much he could do against George's shared stubbornness. And besides, even Fred got caught up with his twin's enthusiasm, and that's how Filch always carries a lantern with him during the night.

"Probably lotion again." Fred mused, "something that could come into contact, rather than being digested."

"Mummy Lotion and uh, Softest Hand Lotion?"

"We can work on the names later. But we should figure out how to make it, you know?" Fred tapped his spoon on the table. The Pepper Up potion was finally starting to hit him, making him feel a little bit more alive. "Who do you think the Other Guy is?"

"Neville Longbottom," George replied, without missing a beat. "He's too innocent and puts up with Ron too much."

"I doubt it." Fred pulled over the rest of the bacon and dumped it on his plate. "He was outside when the doors got bespelled shut. He spent like, three hours just sitting out there with Ron. That would drive anybody insane. Plus, we used to babysit him when he was younger."

"Or it makes him even more suspicious. The last place we'd look is somebody we know. Plus he was one of the last few people who used the doors to go outside." George answered, "and besides, could you imagine? The Boy-Who-Lived? A prankster? That would be awesome. Anyways, it doesn't matter who the Other Guy is, what matters is that we pump them for information. I really want to know how they did so many cool things."

Fred had to agree with that. "Make them a minion. If it fails we could intimidate them."

"Bribe them."

"Or-"

"What are you two talking about?" The familiar and grating voice of Percy the Prat appeared.

"Oh, nothing. Just talking about the firsties." George a feigned casual tone.

"Yeah, just trying to figure out which ones to enslave to our evil cause." Fred joined in.

"We were thinking that Ron might be a good fit, but Neville and Seamus Finnigan have a knack of making things explode."

"You leave the firsties alone." Percy scolded his two younger brothers. "And get to class, you're almost late as it is."

Fred and George burst into laughter, further annoying their older brother.

"Of course," one began.

"Your majesty." The other finished.

The two boys swiped their bags and casually swaggered away, all the while Percy mumbled curses under his breath. The twins were waiting for the next prank, really. They wanted to see the show. It was the Other Guy's turn, and they really wanted to see what was next. It was going to be a brilliant show, both of them knew it.

They couldn't wait to see it.

Two days later, on Halloween, they watched as Professor Quirrel wheezed out, "Troll! In the dungeon!" And collapse on the ground. Fred and George gave each other a surprised look and leaned in. Was this really the prank? Did the Other Guy do this?

Unbeknownst to them, a third person shared their befuddled look. A ragged Hufflepuff girl shot the twins a shocked, perhaps annoyed, look. Did the twins take an extra turn? What was going on?

Turns out-

It wasn't either of the two parties' faults.

(Who could have guessed that a ghost of a Dark Lord decided to take a turn in their war?)

The Entity sat at the large conference table and twiddled their thumbs. Mary, the HR representative was busy getting ready for the meeting. Chatting with Steve, a random accountant (he was important, there was apparently a whole department dedicated to all of the Steve's in accounting), as she set up her computer for the powerpoint slide show. The Entity was patiently waiting for the meeting to start. It was nice to be away from their desk. But at the same time, the chaotic energy of the Harry Potter department was crammed into one meeting room, and that always spelled disaster. They were preparing for the worst.

The Entity looked up, idly watched as time ticked past. Above the table sat a projection of the Harry Potter universes, as they slowly circled around the Main Universe. They were represented by faint white lines, each of them drifting by the golden string of the original, one and only, universe. They were not all synced up, as many of them were in different timelines. But, as stated previously, each universe followed a set of laws. One of the laws stated that each of the universes experienced time at the same rate as the other, perfectly synced up.

It was a beautiful sight. But the Entity had to keep their eyes on the potential danger. They needed to run if it looked like somebody was going to start melting other beings.

The Entity watched the different beings that made up the Harry Potter department settling into their seats. Joann, the eldritch demon, was sitting in her very own throne. She was holding three martinis in her different clawed hands, and she was perusing through a magazine. A Quibbler, the Entity saw. It had a picture of… a dinosaur on the front. The Entity narrowed their eyes at the sight, cursing the being that had created such a rift in the world. Joann probably liked the damned dinosaur, figuring that he was the one who actually created Hell.

A few seats down were Greg, who looked exhausted. The Entity watched as he pulled out a Starbucks cup and popped open the lid. He also pulled out a handful of white packets, of which he began to rip open and add to the coffee. The Entity watched in horror as Greg added packet after packet of Stardust, a powerful energy powder. Greg stopped when he used all of the packets and stopped only to swirl the drink a few times and then downing it all.

Greg jerked a few times, clutched at his chest, and his four left eyes began to twitch erratically. But overall, he didn't seem to die from it. If anything he looked a little bit healthier from it. He definitely looked less tired than before. The Entity didn't concern themselves over it too much, Greg had been overlooking the mindless fuckery of the most messed up universes since before the Entity had started their new job working here. Which was a couple of eras ago, maybe? The Entity knew that Greg had been apart of the Egyptian department before he came to the Harry Potter division, and was in charge of the of King Tutankhamun. Apparently the little fucker was so good at messing up the timeline that, for a majority of universes, their department had to kill him off at a young age before he found an alien ship and became immortal and ruled over Earth for eons.

No wonder Greg had been put in charge of the Zachary Potter time-lines. He probably knew what to do first hand.

"Is everybody here?" Mary called out, and thankfully, the Entity drew themselves out of their thoughts and turned to look at the beginning of the powerpoint. They lived in a place where time was different, and their technology was the most advanced that has ever gotten. But somehow, somebody had the smart idea that they still needed to use Microsoft powerpoint 2007, and every slide was made in comic sans along with the old fashioned animation of the screen twisting itself into a star pattern to switch to the next slide.

It was a punishment. It had to be.

The Entity was so wrapped up in the torture of the quarterly meeting of the Harry Potter division that they didn't see it.

Above their heads, was the map of the Harry Potter Universes. Each little dot of light was a universe, and there were hundreds upon billions of them. It was quite easy to not notice it. But during the meeting, time ticked on by. And Harriet Potter's universe moved on. Months passed. And without the surveillance of the Entity to catch any mistakes.

Months passed for Harriet Potter in universe 4,325,243. And the Entity wasn't watching. They were looking at the slide show, as Mary was telling them the numbers from the last few months, and how they hired two new demi-gods to help with the rat-people under the surface of the Earth.

Above the Entity's head, a light began to flicker.

And nothing, no gods, demons, or other such powerful beings, saw it.