RH and GB

by Skcymooree's Azure

HP multidimentional beings FHP NBWL

15. Chapter 15

[Sometimes, I have to be the serious one. I like to think that I am the jokester. I laugh, I have fun. I do all the silly things in order to spread cheer to others. But sometimes, there is a moment in your life where you need to sit down and have a good think. I did that, and I have found some rather interesting things lying around in my brain. I think I have already given you a particular piece of my mind when I told you that wands don't really like you and that they are dead things shoved into sticks. That is one idea that came from a 'good think' that I had. But I was reading a book the other day. And I felt the most curious connection of thoughts and ideas that popped into my brain. It took me a while to sort it all out. I must admit I am not the smartest person around, just the best looking [you wish - Pads]. But this is what I figured out. And I felt that it was important to share with others.

Books.

Can.

Lie.

Isn't that the most fascinating thing? I mean, you would think that people who had the time and effort to create a book wouldn't try to lie about certain things. But I have found, during numerous reports that I have had to write for Transfiguration (dammit McGonnall), that the details are smudged around the corners. A date is misspelled. A word was written in the wrong place. A warning was discarded or obscured.

The other members of the Marauders aren't too concerned about this fact that I have uncovered. They don't really care. They say that they knew it all along that 'so-and-so' didn't happen, and somebody made that up. But… to me. I feel like this is really important. Because what if… what if you were trying to do something. Say, a spell. Or perhaps a potion. But it was slapped together in a hurry, and it was just all made up. That is dangerous. Magic is dangerous. It can hurt indiscriminately.

And not to mention history, what if you lied about that? Binns does a terrible job and he only talks about the Goblin Wars, but a majority of that class is self-study. But what if the books in the library are false? What if you aren't taught the history of what really happened? Then what will prevent others from making that same mistake again? It's like when Lily gave us those muggle pop drinks. She said we should shake them before opening them. I did so, and when I opened the can the drink exploded on me! Who can prevent others from making a mistake when they don't know anything about what their actions will cause?

All I can leave you is this warning. Books can lie. And you don't know if it's true or not. And I hope that one day you'll never have to find out the consequences of your ignorance. Take my warning for what it is: don't believe everything you read.

-Prongs [rewritten by Moony, who is procrastinating his newt revision notes]

-Excerpt from the Marauders Compendium]

Halloween at the Dursley's met Harriet with a certain amount of suspicion. When Harriet was younger, she hardly knew what Halloween was. It wasn't until she went to primary school and found out it was a holiday that she finally understood. All of the kids were excited about it. But Harriet, at the time, hated it because she was always locked up in her cupboard for the day. There was never a real reason why this happened. Harriet just figured that she was in the way and like every holiday, Harriet was put into her cupboard until the next day.

When Harriet was older she still believed that none of the Dursley's wanted her around. However, it was when she was flipping through 'The Quibbler' that Harriet figured out that it was a night where the veil between the living world and the dead was thin. Samhain. It was referenced heavily in some of the ritualist books that Harriet had seen in her mum's stash, and there were a few who talked about the importance of the veil's thinning that could affect several sensitive plants. There were even a couple of seven-year potions books that heavily warned the reader that making a potion on such nights could make it contaminated by foul magic.

Harriet read all of this, and figured, why not use this opportunity and experiment?

When Harriet was working on her Blabbermouth potion she picked her lock to her cupboard and snuck out when she was sure it was in the middle of the night. The streets were empty of children, the festivities were long over. Halloween was over, and many of the street lamps had been turned off for the night. Harriet crept out of the house, a shadow in the darkness was all that showed of her efforts. She laid out her plants, some of them freshly picked and others dried out. Lavender, garlic, oak bark, mint leaves, and parsley. All of the plants that she could find easily and she had used once before in other potions. They were the kind of potion ingredients that absorbed the magical air around them. And there, she left them out in the open. The next morning, she collected them and kept them safe.

Two days later, she nearly burned the house down as the garlic decided to explode upon impact when it touched the potion that Harriet was trying to make. In fact, over the course of the next month, Harriet tried and failed to make anything with the ingredients that she left out. Every single one of them failed. They blew up, turned to ash, lit themselves aflame, and turned themselves into boiling rot. And those were the minor reactions. The most extreme thing that happened was the flames that shot out of the pot and Harriet was so afraid that it would scorch the ceiling. It didn't leave much of a mark, at least that the Dursleys never noticed how the ceiling paint was a bit bubbly and warped. But after that Harriet was afraid to use the ingredients in case they'd blow up the kitchen. There would be no saving her if Harriet destroyed the house.

So she tried taking it outside. And when that became a bit tedious, Harriet started to experiment at Miss Figg's house. The old bat deserved it. (It was the only reason she ever talked to the old woman anymore. Otherwise, Harriet avoided her like the plague.)

However, Harriet soon gave up on the experiment. It wasn't because she was too frustrated. It was because she used all of the ingredients up. She wasn't able to magically procure more of the Halloween-touched items. She would have to wait a whole year to try again.

When Harriet was ten, she tried again. And nothing had worked. Instead, she found out that parsley could turn fire green. That was an accident. And she also found that oregano would stubbornly sit at the bottom of the pot and refuse to combine into the potion itself. It was there that Harriet figured out that the Halloween moon can change the properties of the ingredients entirely. At first, she thought it made them overpowered, or perhaps there was an added twist to the original ability. But to Harriet's fascination, nothing worked. Her potions hit the wall after every single try. Harriet even resorted to using the potion textbooks her mum had, trying out different ones that needed different ingredients. She had very few options due to the fact that she was limited to only herbs that Harriet could get her grubby hands on. Although, heavens know why Harriet would need a 'boil away' potion or a 'reduce hair loss' draught. But she still made them anyway.

The first clue that Harriet had was that she made a mistake. Harriet thought it said the potion needed dried oak bark. But in reality, Harriet had misread it and added dried pine bark. The soul-sucking sound of the potion pulling itself into a ball and disintegrating, along with the spoon that Harriet had been stirring with it, was familiar. Surprisingly so. Because it had happened a week prior.

That was the first clue, and from there Harriet began to hypothesize. The tomato seeds, which have a natural purifying property, had caused a potion to do the same type of self-destruction. But under the exposure of the moon, it had gained a similar quality that dried pine bark had- nullifying poison. It only took her another evening to help confirm that hypothesis, when she substituted the dried pine bark with tomato seeds and the potion turned out perfectly fine. Well. Sort of. It was a bit off, but that was because Harriet had underestimated the potency of the tomato seeds. They were pretty powerful.

It was a breakthrough.

After that, Harriet quickly ran out of ingredients again. She didn't find another substitute ingredient. But it didn't stop her mind from going through all of the possibilities. Harriet took a spare notebook and began to fill it with her various findings and documented every failing potion and how it unerringly destroyed itself. (Herself, of course, keeping a fair distance away from the failing potions.)

And so, on Harriet's eleventh Halloween, she spent the majority of the entire day outside. She skipped her classes, and pillaged the kitchens, taking anything she could possibly use. The herbs were raided, the fruits and vegetables were taken, the spices were picked over. The elves were fine with her for the most part, and they didn't bother her too much besides insisting that she eat some soup. After that, Harriet went to her potions cupboard and took a knife to some of the ingredients. Scraping out the seeds and gently peeling off the skins. She took a good chunk of her stores of various plants that she had harvested and went off into the woods. Harriet was fairly oblivious to the new decorations that popped up on the school, like the bats that swooped around or the pumpkins glowing in the corners. The black and orange streamers that decorated the pillars and walls went unnoticed. Harriet's one objective was her experiment.

She spent the day out in the woods. Dirt caked itself onto her clothes within a few minutes of walking into the trees. But Harriet was determined to make her supplies last this time. She wasn't going to run out of her moon-touched ingredients this time. She had so many ideas on how to use them and how to figure out their properties. To be honest, Harriet would have given up her left leg if there had been some sort of manual on how to find the property of an ingredient. As she picked through a few books in the potions section in the library earlier that week, Harriet had come to the conclusion that it was a trial and error experiment that had taken hundreds of years of combined research to make any firm conclusions of any ingredient. (Harriet stubbornly refused to think about how several books had gotten the property of lemon seeds wrong. She itched to write to those particular authors about how terrible they were at their jobs. Because Harriet knew without a doubt that lemon seeds produced a nullifying effect to scents and could neutralize any strong acid-based ingredients. It was one of the most common ingredients that Harriet used because she could use it if any of her potions weren't turning out the way that she wanted it to. Hell, it was used in cleaning potions, for crying out loud. Those authors clearly didn't know what they were writing about.)

Later on in the day, when the sun was falling, Harriet reluctantly returned to the castle. She left all of her hard work in the forest, in a patch of trees that would allow enough moonlight to fall on them. She'd retrieve them the next day, and Harriet honestly couldn't wait. She had waited all year to get this done. And Harriet was looking forward to seeing if she could use any of them in any new potions. As far as she knew moon-touched ingredients swapped abilities, but the potency of them was astronomical. If she could use it for her Blabbermouth Potion… or even the Tooting Potion… what would happen?

Harriet was waiting for the perfect moment for her new potion. She was calling it 'Thaw-Me-Not' in her head. Despite throwing her cauldron into the fireplace, the ice had stubbornly refused to melt. Remaining cold and as hard as ever. It had taken an extreme amount of heat and time before it had begun to melt. Harriet knew that the Thaw-Me-Not was her new secret weapon. She had to wait for the perfect time to use it. Because nobody knew about it! It was a genius potion, one that Harriet thought herself very clever for making it. A common potion reaction when two or more ingredients don't agree with each other is freezing it into a solid chunk of ice. And now she made the reaction into a potion! It was brilliant! Just the idea of using it made her thrilled.

After setting her various plants outside in the woods, getting picked up by the Herd wasn't hard at all. Soon enough Harriet was in the Great Hall, eating her dinner absentmindedly. It was only then that she noticed that the room was decorated, and that was only because a bat had swooped down on Hannah Abbot and the girl screamed.

And then-

"Troll! In the dungeon!"

Harriet shot the Weasley Twins a disgruntled look. It was her turn! Harriet wasn't ready to use her new potion, but she certainly had a few ideas. But how dare they use her turn! She gave them a glare, but then noticed that they were looking rather… puzzled themselves.

Something was wrong. Harriet eyed the prone form on Professor Quirrell on the floor. Several students were getting loud and hysterical. And when Harriet looked at the teacher's table she saw that Professor Sprout was pale and talking with Professor Flitwick rapidly.

"Everybody calm down!" Dumbledore's voice boomed out, and the Great Hall went silent for a beat. Then the whispers started up. "Prefects, lead your house to your dorms. There is nothing to be afraid of. The professors and I will conduct a search of the castle just to be sure."

At just like that, the chaos of the Great Hall commenced. Harriet was jostled abruptly as the older Hufflepuffs around her climbed to their feet. She reluctantly was dragged along with them. It wasn't until they were filing out of the hall towards the direction of the Hufflepuff den, that Harriet realized that there was something wrong with Dumbledore's decree.

If there was a troll in the dungeon. And Dumbledore sent them to their dorms. Which was in the dungeon. Along with the Slytherins.

Harriet pulled back with a jerk. Hannah and Susan were beside her, and they were surrounded by the older Hufflepuff students. Probably to protect them. But they were in the way.

"Come on." An older prefect snapped at Harriet, "we don't have time to hunt you down. Can't you see we are actually in the middle of a crisis? Don't be stupid." And Harriet was shoved back into the middle of the Herd.

In the split second, before Harriet was shoved back into the tide of yellow and black, Harriet glanced over to the Slytherins. She caught Draco's worried eyes. Harriet was only able to note that most of the Slytherin's had their wands out, their knuckles white around the wood, and they were looking wary. It wasn't until Harriet was nearly at her dorms that she was able to piece together that the Slytherins knew. They knew that the troll was in the dungeon and they were about to head into danger. And they were preparing for it.

What kind of fucked up school was this?

November started with Snape in her Herbology class. And Hermione Granger sitting in her spot.

It wasn't going to be a good day.

Harriet walked into the greenhouse and halted in her tracks. She had been looking forward to Herbology the entire day. She couldn't wait to talk to Neville and to go pick up the ingredients that she had stashed the day before. Maybe she could bring Neville into her experimenting and together they could figure out what the properties of different ingredients were. It would be so much fun! Harriet was sure that Neville would love to help her. They could work on it together and it would be amazing. She was so excited.

The feeling of excitement dissipated when she saw Hermione Granger sitting in her spot. In her chair. Right next to Neville. Who was laughing. Because Hermione said something funny. The whole scene baffled Harriet. Her brain stalled over the fact that things were not in their usual places. It was absurd.

Harriet hovered in the doorway for a few seconds. Unsure of what to do. Because Hermione was sitting in her seat! Where was Harriet supposed to go? She didn't know. And so she tapped her fingers together worriedly, watching as Neville was joking around with Hermione. Was Harriet supposed to go up and remind Hermione to sit somewhere else? Uh, was she supposed to go and get Professor Sprout and get her chair back? That was Harriet's spot.

Ron looked up and saw Harriet lurking behind Neville. He opened his big mouth. "I'm so glad you are our friend Hermione. We couldn't have saved the day and defeated that troll without you." He didn't break eye contact with Harriet.

"Oh yeah." Neville agreed, nodding. "Super scary. But I am glad we're friends now."

"Let's just not do something as dangerous again, okay?" Hermione tucked one lock of her bushy hair behind her ear, bashful. But Harriet could see the happiness on Hermione's face. She was practically glowing. Ron still stared at Harriet, his eyes daring her to do something about this new situation. A slimy smirk tugged on his lips.

"The scariest thing will be that group project that Professor Sprout is giving us today. I'm glad that you're our partner with us." Neville laughed. That was the final straw.

Harriet's face shut down. Settling into that perfect mask that the Dursley's required her to make. The only sign of her emotion was her swallowing hard and her clenched jaw.

(Because if she didn't Harriet might cry. And she refused to do so. Not when Weasley was there. Not when he was trying to make her upset. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He knew how to twist the knife into her. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck-)

Harriet turned and tried to walk out of the class entirely. She needed a good place to cry. Somewhere that wasn't populated with Weasley's. However, she was stopped by Professor Sprout poking her head out of her back office. "Miss Potter? Could you come here for a moment of your time?"

Harriet's hand rested on the door's latch. She weighed her options. Professor Sprout was nice. Ditzy. But nice. But if Harriet had to live through another lecture about being more friendly to her housemates, she'd lose it. Especially since her emotions were trying to break out of her chest and claw at the world around her.

"Look at her. She's going to run away again." Ron's snobbish voice cut through her internal thoughts.

(She can't let him be right.)

Stiffly Harriet turned around and gave a forced nod to Sprout before walking into the back room. Harriet had been in there a few times before. It was a shady dark room, meant for the plants that couldn't stand direct daylight. A little window that gave enough light for the plants to flourish, but causing the entire room to feel dim and dark. Covered in leaves in vines sat the desk that Professor Sprout normally did her paperwork on, although they were all covered in a film of dirt and ink smudges. It was rather nice, somewhat homey, but Harriet couldn't stand hearing all of Sprout's lectures. And that room was where most of them happened.

At first, Harriet didn't see him. Snape was in the corner of the room where she looked last. But then again, it was hard to see him wearing all black in the poorly lit room filled with plants. The second she saw him, Harriet's heart jumped in shock and in fright. She stopped suddenly, her heart racing a mile a minute.

"I'm so glad that you are here, darling." Professor Sprout spoke, as she brushed past Harriet and sat behind the desk. "Why don't you take a seat. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

Harriet reluctantly sat down on the soil encrusted chair, her eyes dropping down to the floor and fixed on an oddly shaped root. She couldn't bring herself to look at Snape. Just the thought of being in the same room as him brought goosebumps to her arms. Her throat was suddenly dry as well.

"Miss Potter, Professor Snape has brought to my attention that you haven't been attending his classes. Can you tell me why?" Sprout asked gently.

The words felt like a wall that was built impossibly too tall. What Professor Sprout was asking her was… impossible. Harriet's head ducked down, her hair falling across her face to obscure it. She could feel her skin beginning to feel warm and she couldn't bear the thought of somebody seeing her. Her fingers dug into her skirt and her knees. And besides, what could Harriet even say? She knew better than to say that Snape terrified her. That would only cause trouble. And Harriet didn't really want to have the attention of adults on her. It would only make the situation worse.

"Miss Potter?" Sprout asked. "You're not in trouble. I just wanted to know if there is a reason why you are having trouble attending your potions class?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? She doesn't have the brains for it." The low hissing drawl that occasionally haunted Harriet's dreams caused the small girl to flinch. Harriet's head suddenly felt drained and cold, she was certain that her face had lost all colour. Merlin even her hands shook.

Why did she feel so scared? Why did Harriet know that if Snape had a choice, she'd be thrown out of the magical world? Why was he so fucking terrifying that even the thought of him had her thoughts jumbled and her fingers feel numb?

"That is not how we address students, Severus." Sprout spoke in a firm but hushed voice. "If you do not start treating them with respect, especially those who are having a hard time here, we will be having words at the faculty meeting. With Minerva there. Understood?"

Harriet barely paid attention to the words being spoken around her. Instead, she was more preoccupied with the sound of her heart in her ears and staring down at that funny looking root on the ground. Trying to calm the panic and fear that wanted to burst out of her in an explosion. She could feel it building inside of her, the panic that was climbing up and pushing itself into her lungs and heart. Harriet couldn't keep her face steady, and she couldn't bear the thought of anybody seeing her weak. Especially Snape. She had the willpower to look Uncle Vernon in the eyes and to take a beating. Harriet was strong. She had to be.

But her body still shook.

It wasn't ready for the onslaught of fear that came with Snape speaking again.

"Fine. Miss Potter." Snape hissed and t'skd her name again, "you haven't been coming to class. And you are drastically falling behind. This school has standards that need to be met, and you haven't been fulfilling them. I hold a remedial class for those in your year who are struggling. You are now required to go to them because of how behind you are. They are after dinner on Wednesdays and Fridays." Harriet could hear him moving around silently. Merlin, she hated his silky voice. It could weave itself through the cracks in her mind and make her feel powerless. "And if you fail to show up to them just like you have been to my class, then you will need to have a discussion with the headmaster about your position in this school. Hogwarts does not support slackers."

Harriet could feel the tears of shame start to prickle. And her pride cut at her.

"That is enough. Thank you." Professor Sprout cut in. "I will make sure that Harriet is there on time. Now, I have a class that I was supposed to have started a few minutes ago."

There was a beat of silence. It was heavy. Harriet couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. She couldn't do anything but clench her jaw and hunch over. She had to keep her face hidden.

The door opened and closed without much pause. It took Harriet a few long seconds to get her breath back and her metaphorical and emotional feet back underneath her to look up. The world felt less wonky now that Snape left. It was almost funny, how better she felt when she knew that the professor wasn't around anymore. But she still felt raw and worn out. Exhausted. Shaken. Worn. Strained.

It felt like how she used to, back when she thought she could make the Dursley's like her. That crashing feeling in her stomach. Knowing that Harriet still didn't do enough to make her aunt look at her with such fondness that Petunia gave to her son. Knowing that no matter what she did, she'd never be good enough. That Harriet was a freak. And Dudley was an angel.

"Come now, Miss Potter. I have a fascinating lesson about Devils Snare and how it likes to seek out heat sources." Sprout spoke calmly. "I have a feeling that you will love this. You are a marvelous student in my class."

Shakily, Harriet nodded and stood up. Her head was still spinning. She was off-kilter. She needed time and space to recover. She felt. Raw. And exposed. And nauseous.

"Miss Potter?" Sprout called out, and Harriet paused at the doorway, her shaking hand on the doorknob. "If you ever have any issues. Or if you are feeling down. Don't hesitate to talk to me. I am your head of house. I am here for you."

Harriet nodded again and left, walking into the chatting room of kids. The noise felt worse on her nerves. Unbearable. Like stiff clothing on sensitive skin. Chafing. She couldn't stand it. The sick feeling in her stomach grew.

One glance was all that it took for Harriet to recall her earlier ire. That anger felt so distant now. Hermione was in her seat. And Neville didn't seem to care. Suddenly that didn't feel like such a big deal anymore. That part of her felt a bit… hollow now. Harriet didn't hesitate as she walked towards the only empty seat, next to Susan and a boy Hufflepuff. Where Hermione used to sit. She ignored the chatter and the looks she was getting. She didn't have the energy to deal with it anymore. Instead, Harriet set her bag on the desk and curled up with her face pressed into it.

Mercifully Harriet was left alone. Because Harriet knew without a doubt that if anybody tried to interact with her she'd throw up. That sick feeling only intensified with the presence of the other kids. The knotting in her stomach warned her that she needed to be alone. But she'd have to move to do so. And it was so much easier to just do what everybody else wanted her to do.

It was so much easier to just give up.

When class was over, Harriet quietly gathered her things and left with Susan and Hannah, letting herself get taken away with the Herd without much fuss. They didn't speak to her. Just kept an eye on her. To keep Harriet with them. It was the first time that Harriet really noticed the gap between her and the other Hufflepuffs.

When was the last time that Susan and Hannah spoke to her? The boys laughed at a joke, one of them- Harriet didn't know his name- was using their wand for something. She had been at school, and she didn't know any of her housemate's names beside Susan and Hannah. And that was because they sat next to her. Suddenly Harriet felt alone. A bitter kind of feeling that crept up her spine and made the gap between her and the other kids so gigantically huge.

The only person who was her friend was Neville and he replaced her.

Harriet had never felt so cut off from the world.

At dinner, Harriet tried to open her beginner runes textbook but found the words too complicated and her thoughts too unfocused to remember anything she had read. She closed it, and curled up at the table, unable to even think about potions. She didn't have the energy to do much of anything else for the rest of the day.

The next day, Harriet went to her first potions remedial class. Crabbe and Goyle were there, and surprisingly Malfoy. They didn't have a chance to even say hello before Snape swooped in and Harriet's life flashed before her eyes. Snape was bitter. And his verbal knives hit her in the most vulnerable spots. Crabbe and Goyle obviously had a hard time understanding what was going on, and Malfoy was helping them while expertly brewing his own potions. Harriet didn't understand why Malfoy was here. He was able to juggle Crabbe's and Goyle's potions along with his own, and for the most part, Snape also left the trio be. He focused his attention on Harriet. And she curled up underneath his stare.

Time was both agonizingly slow and painful to pass. With each sweeping pass of his robes, Harriet felt the panic in her stomach lurch. Her hands trembled, knowing that his gaze was on her back. She couldn't do anything, much less create a potion. Her movements were off. Her mind wandered, as she tried to even out her breaths to calm herself down. But try as she might, Harriet couldn't focus. And Snape knew it. And his words cut.

She stumbled away to the nearest girls restroom and threw up after the first lesson. Her body shook as she laid on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. She didn't care about how gross it was, only that her limbs trembled and she felt so weak. The cold of the floor bit through her stockings and she would have stayed there longer if she didn't know that curfew was about to be reinforced. Snape would be prowling the halls, and Harriet couldn't stomach being near him again.

Shakily, Harriet returned to her dorms and only found nightmares waiting for her. She felt empty and exhausted.

Two days later, there were flocks of birds roosting above the Great Hall. At first, they were nice. They sang sweetly and they fluttered around the floating candlesticks. The soft sound of their wings moving was nice actually. And they were brightly colored, no two birds were alike. Splashes of colors seemed like patterns on their feathers. Ranging from the darkest black to the brightest yellow. The birds moved through the air like fish through water. Looping. Twirling. It was hypnotic.

And then the second part of the prank appeared, the birds unleashed their loads. Their brightly colored poop fell onto the unsuspecting crowd and their food. The birds hooted and sang, diving down and swooping past the heads of students. Some girls were afraid the birds might get stuck in their hair, covering their heads with their arms.

Nobody ate much for breakfast that day. (Except for a couple of incredibly dumb Gryffindors. Gross.)

But it did do something. Something extraordinary. Harriet smiled for the first time in days. A pale sky blue colored bird poop was streaked across her face. And her robes were garnished with lime green and purple splatters, flecked with neon orange and yellow. But it was okay. Harriet smiled faintly, enjoying how the crowds were angrily muttering amongst themselves about how annoying it will be to get the elves to clean all of their robes in time for classes. It was a bright emotion. The only emotion that actually felt real to her. Bright and burning. Like how the sun peered it's way out of the clouds after a long time.

Harriet grabbed that feeling and held it tightly. Unable to let it go. She felt… a little bit stronger. Like she gained a bit more control of her suddenly aimless and colorless life.

She slipped away, easily doing so due to the Herd dropping their guard on her a little bit. After all, she hadn't run in a couple of days. Harriet finally went out and collected the ingredients that she had left days ago in the woods. They were mostly untouched, even though the wind scattered a few. And she smuggled them into her sanctuary underneath the stairs. She pulled out the Marauders Componium and perused.

That same day, Ron Weasley had blue and red polka dots racing across his skin. And Harriet felt a piece of herself return. Happy, and (slightly bitterly) grateful that it was the twins who had pulled her out of the darkness and grayed out emotions that threatened to consume her.

The war continued. Merrily.

November ended just as fast as it started. And December came with the snow and sleet that covered the grounds. Harriet had found herself in a new rhythm. The few weeks of freedom of skipping classes had been ruthlessly stopped, but it hadn't kept her mind from wandering. She went through the motions. Going to each class. Writing down notes in her terrible quill-induced handwriting (the ink was always too runny). Swishing her wand around and hoping one day things might work out. She only just was able to use wingardium leviosa, but the feather only just went up a few inches. It was enough for Flickwick to clap his hands and let Harriet pass the test. But now Harriet had no idea how to even tackle the next charm, flipendo. No matter how much she tried to concentrate, nothing ever worked. And more often than not, Harriet felt incredibly tired and sleepy afterward. McGonagall's class was… not the worst. But it wasn't the best, either. A majority of it was theoretical and learning rules and such. But the way that Professor McGonagall's eyes lingered and how her mouth would pinch together when Harriet failed to even make the match any different spoke volumes.

Harriet got the hint. She wasn't like her dad.

Sprouts class was by far the easiest. There was a hands-on class period, where the separate tables would group together to dig in the dirt or plant something. But the tests and homework were laughably easy, due to the fact that Harriet knew everything already. Plants and how to treat them was something she memorized long ago. For the most part, she treated Herbology like Binn's and Quirrel's class. She slept. Catching up on the hours she spent in her potions room, leaning over a cauldron, or when she'd stay up all night learning runes.

(She did her best to avoid catching Neville's eyes. The one time she had tried to hang out with him after Hermione came, it didn't work out. The second that it looked like Neville and Harriet might go near the forbidden forest, Hermione was shrieking that it was against the rules. And the one time Harriet tried to ignore her, Hermione ran off to tell a teacher. Neville followed her. And Harriet avoided him now.

It hurt too much to think that he chose Hermione over Harriet. It helped a little bit knowing that Hermione kept Neville away from her as well, as the bushy-haired girl often distracted Neville enough for Harriet to slip away.

Harriet didn't want to talk to him.)

Snape's class was always the worst. So was the 'remedial lessons.' Without fail, Harriet would vomit after each lesson. The shakes and weak feelings would soon go away after a few hours. And maybe she might get a midnight snack, but most of the time she didn't have an appetite. But in the end, Harriet learned that if she threw herself into her books or her experiments then she would feel better. It distracted her mind, for the most part. And if she only got a few hours sleep then that was okay too. If she was exhausted all the time then she wouldn't have dreams.

It was a rhythm. And Harriet found herself settling into the new schedule without too much difficulty. Sure, there were a few hiccups and bumps here or there. But if Harriet ignored it enough then she'd feel fine later on. But occasionally she'd suddenly find herself aware of her surroundings with painful clarity. And how she hadn't spoken a word to anybody for over a month. That widening gap between her and the other kids, both academically and socially, was painfully obvious. It was a beast that would rake its claws over Harriet without hesitation or warning. The icy crash of loneliness was like a threat that always loomed over her head.

Harriet would open up her newest runes textbook (the subject was so fascinating, and the more she learns the more Harriet finds herself engrossed with it all) and drive other thoughts from her head before she falls into that dark hole in her mind.

Harriet was fine.

Things were okay.

Nothing bad was happening at all.

And that was how Harriet survived for a while. (Denial. Absolute denial. Harriet refused to feel sad anymore because she'd always feel it. She was going to be happy. She was going to be happy.)

(She won't talk about the nights where she crept around the castle. The highlights of her life. The days where she found herself amazed by the most ingenious pranks. The small joy that Harriet took due to the three separate new potions that she was brewing. The difficulty in her experiments slowly being worked out, day by day. The puzzles that she was picking apart. The ingredients that were touched by the Halloween moonlight were so strange and Harriet loved every failure. She celebrated over every success. By herself. At least she could find comfort in her own work.

She won't speak about the other things as well. The secret war that she waged on the Weasley Twins. Each shot she took at them they returned in favor. She hated them but loved the distraction that they gave her. They were smart. Wickedly so. And Harriet rose to the challenge to try and give them as much of a fair fight as she could.

There was one time she dumped her new Thaw-Me-Not potion into Filch's mop bucket. The first time she had used a newer potion in the war. She was proud and excited to use it. A new weapon. Created by her own genius.

But her heart sank when the filthy water in the bucket didn't freeze. Muttering curses under her breath, Harriet pulled out one of the spare notebooks she had from her trip to Diagon Alley and started to jot down notes with a spare muggle pen (because fuck quills). She probably would have stayed in her bad mood for the rest of the week if she hadn't heard Filch howl and spit out his own curses. She glanced up and peered out from behind the tapestry that she hid behind and snorted in glee. It worked! The Thaw-Me-Not had been delayed (possibly due to cleaning product? Harriet wrote it down) and anywhere the mop water had touched turned into a thick sheet of ice. Flich's robes and shoes included. An uneven amount of ice in a swirled pattern had stuck itself halfway down a hall. It was wonderful!

It resulted in three-week detention to the Weasley twins. That's how long the ice stayed on the stone hallway. Along with Flich's shoes and the bottom of his robes.

The two boys started to loudly protest against their punishment. Claiming innocence. But nobody believed them. Served them right, for taking her accomplishments and claiming them as their own. Karma was a bitch.

Soon afterward, the twins then struck with their own attack.

They replaced all of the fireplace wood in the entire castle with logs that couldn't be set on fire. The castle had been miserably cold that day, especially in the dungeons. Hagrid had to go out and chop down a few trees.

When it was her turn again, Harriet had a grand time as she glued silverware to the tables. It got better when the house elves had joined her. The poor things were always so happy to help her, and they never breathed a word about her midnight excursions. They were actually quite funny, Harriet found out. And she let them chatter amongst themselves whenever she visited.

There were dozens of more pranks after that. Too many to recount properly. Enchanted snowballs, and sudden cold drafts up everybody's robes. Or when the windows suddenly open at night, and how the bathroom floors surprisingly slippery. Not to mention the pumpkin juice being replaced with muggle lemonade, and the bushes moving around the castle in suspicious places whenever nobody was looking. Or how everybody's shoelaces being tied around chair legs, and hair suddenly being attracted to people's faces. Or the day where nobody had matching socks. There was the time that ice cream had been hot and the soup was cold. And the other time when the Great Hall had been transformed into an unmeltable ice skating rink. All of this, Harriet kept to herself.

That little bit of happiness Harriet hid away. Because she knew that if she let anybody figure it out that it was her, it would be taken away from her. She didn't trust anybody with the one thing that really made her laugh.

She didn't want it to end.)

The days blurred by. And Harriet existed, going through the motions absentmindedly.

That is, until the first week of December rolled around. And Malfoy broke into her routine.

"Potter." Malfoy spoke, "let's walk to astronomy together."

The remedial session was over. And Harriet was shakily putting away her things. The cauldron that had yet to melt this week, a few tools like that dull silver knife and a ladle, and a few vials of a rotten and poisonous potion. All that she had been able to make under the eyes of Snape. Harriet would have to properly dispose of the vials. She had no use for them. And then Draco spoke to her for the first time in Snape's classroom. Let's walk to astronomy together.

Harriet paused at those words, her nausea churning in her stomach and throat. They did have a class after this. But Harriet had never walked with the three Slytherins to the astronomy tower, due to the fact that she had to rush to the bathroom after every time she was in the room with Snape.

The boys had never mentioned it before. She hadn't thought it was a problem.

Except now Malfoy wanted to walk with her and she needed at least five minutes in the restroom to empty her stomach. It wasn't like she had a choice. Harriet had tried to choke it down once but it had ended in a disaster. A house elf had to help her clean herself up. It had been embarrassing. At least nobody had seen her with her sickness all over her clothes.

Harriet didn't say anything, but the anxiety that suddenly shot through her made her knees go weak. She shoved the last of her items in her bag and turned to leave. Harriet didn't have a lot of time to really think up a plan on how to avoid Malfoy and his sudden need to spend time with her. The only idea that came to Harriet was to leave as fast as possible. But as she turned, she saw that he was ready to leave, all of his things were meticulously packed up. Crabbe and Goyle were ready too, and Harriet's heart sunk.

They were waiting for her.

Harriet walked out of the cursed classroom, and she could feel her stomach churning. The nausea was starting to rise. The sickness always caused her to tremble. Draco was calm and collected as ever, and Harriet felt disgusting even being around him. And for a brief second, Harriet considered trying to act normal and to hope that the queasy feeling would disappear. But that thought was rejected instantly. And so did any of her half-created plans because very suddenly Harriet's only goal was to go to the nearest bathroom and to empty her stomach. The lurch in her stomach warned her. And there was no ignoring that. No matter how much Harriet was in denial.

Harriet ran. She didn't pause as she heard Draco shout, she only had one thing on her mind. Thankfully there was a bathroom very close by, and Harriet ducked into it. She barely made it into a stall before holding her hair back and her entire body shuddered with the force of unwanted sickness. There wasn't much in her. Harriet stopped eating before Snape-instructed classes. But that didn't stop the bile and acid, nor the lung-burning gagging that forced her entire body to cramp itself into pieces. It was so painful. Her entire body spasmed with the force.

After a bit, Harriet was able to calm down. Her palms were pressed against her forehead and her knees were bruising on the tile floor. The aftershocks were still shooting through her. But Harriet was okay now. She could at least function.

Harriet didn't even have time to lock the stall door. She practically laid on the floor in the bathroom. And she felt filthy. Dirty. Exposed. But she was used to that. With shaking hands she flushed and washed her hands, feeling gross in a way that no soap could cleanse. Her mouth and throat felt raw, and eventually, she had enough strength to move on from her temporary safe haven.

Except.

Except when she walked out of the bathroom Draco and Crabbe and Goyle were leaning up against the wall, waiting for her.

"Finally." Draco sighed, "thought you were going to take forever."

Harriet felt ashamed, and her face started to flush red. Did he know? About how nasty Harriet really was?

"You don't look like you have makeup on." Goyle stated. "And your hair is always a bit messy. Why did you take so long in the bathroom?"

"Goyle," Draco said a warning in his voice, "you don't ask girls what they do in the bathroom. It's considered rude."

"I dunno." Crabbe mumbled, "I didn't think Harriet would have been in there as long as Pansy has. At least Pansy looks weirdly okay after she's done in the bathroom. Harriet, no offense, looks the same as before."

"Both of you should mind your manners." Draco sniffed, and then pushed off of the wall. He gently tossed something at Harriet, who caught it with a surprising fast reflex. "Come on. Let's go." And walked off, forcing the two other boys to follow.

Harriet gazed down at the package that crinkled in her hand. 'Ice Mice, the fastest way to make your breath super fresh!' It said in a bright logo. Inside was a gummy looking mouse-shaped candy. What- what was she going to do with this? And why were Crabbe and Goyle talking about-

"Harriet? Are you coming or not?" Draco called, and Harriet's thoughts were interrupted. Hesitantly, Harriet followed. And a few minutes later, ate the ice mice.

(It was really good. Sweet, but not overpoweringly so. Perfect.)

The third time Draco waited outside of the bathroom for her, Harriet shakily walked out to find another person waiting for her. This time a girl, with dark brown hair that was fashionably styled and sharp mossy green eyes that could cut skin. She gave Harriet a glare. Normally, that was enough to cow Harriet and to make sure she never stayed in the same room as the girl. But that wasn't enough, apparently. As the girl was fitted into green and silver colors, wearing robes that looked unfrayed and silky. The girl looked perfect. Not a hair out of place. And she looked at Harriet like she just smelled something rather awful.

Draco didn't say anything before passing Harriet an ice mice. It was strangely starting to become a routine now. It boggled Harriet's mind that Draco was seemingly giving her candy after every study session with Snape. And that he was waiting for her every time to leave, even when they didn't have astronomy that night.

"I see what you mean." The girl spoke, after giving Harriet a once over. Even her voice sounded sharp but refined. Scary, but Harriet was confused more than anything. "I am Heiress Daphne Greengrass." The girl introduced herself. "And you must be Potter."

"Be nice," Draco said, leveling Daphne with a glance that spoke of a language that Harriet didn't know. The two Slytherins stared at each other. Their eyes were unblinking. And then Draco turned and walked away, his robes flowing seamlessly behind him. It was probably a really cool move, if it wasn't for the fact that Draco was eleven. Crabbe and Goyle followed him, leaving Harriet with Daphne. They didn't leave in such a styled fashion, just hurrying to catch up to Draco before he left.

"I will say this in a simple way." Daphne crossed her arms and tapped her polished leather shoes. "Draco called in a favor. He wants me to help you."

Harriet blinked.

Daphne, amazingly, understood her confusion. "To put it bluntly, you are a mess. Follow me." And she smartly turned on her heel and walked away. Her back was straight and unyielding. And Harriet followed, reluctantly but curious. It wasn't like she had anything better to do, besides homework. And anything was better than writing a three-foot scroll on transfiguration.

They passed through the dungeons that Harriet hadn't tried to access before. This was the Slytherin side of the dungeons. And Harriet found that the older Slytherin's had a pact with the Herd. And sometimes they will snitch on her. So Harriet avoided the house entirely. Besides Draco, who was nice. And Crabbe and Goyle, they were okay too. But the rest of the Slytherins were… intimidating. Daphne included.

Harriet wasn't sure where she was going until Daphne opened a door and walked inside. Harriet followed, pausing to look inside before joining her. It wasn't a classroom at all. It looked like a living room. It would be more apt to call it similar to the common room that Harriet was used to, in the Hufflepuff dorm room. With the exception that everything was made out of gleaming dark wood and silver and rich greens were tastefully placed on the elegant furniture. A cheery fire crackled in a fireplace, and a portrait of a silver snake slowly oozed around its frame. The room was probably the richest place that Harriet had ever been in. There wasn't another soul in the room beside Daphne, who sat down on a deep emerald couch and pointedly looked at Harriet.

"This room is used for Slytherin's who have family in different houses, yet don't want to spoil their image. So please keep quiet about it. Come in. And shut the door." She crossed her heels together. Daphne looked like the very picture of a proper girl. Not even her skirt had a single wrinkle out of place. Harriet did what Daphne told her to and awkwardly came into the room. Hell, even the carpet was so plush, Harriet could feel her shoes sink into it. This place screamed of wealth. Harriet reluctantly sat down on a silver embroidered chair, barely putting any weight on the corner that she leaned on. She didn't dare do anything more than sit on the edge, unwilling to disturb this obviously expensive piece of furniture. What if she broke it?

Daphne obviously saw Harriet's actions. But she didn't show anything on her face. But Harriet could practically sense the judgment in the air. A second sense that Harriet had learned from Aunt Petunia. But Daphne didn't purse her lips or narrow her eyes. Instead, she sniffed a little and smoothed out her skirt.

"Draco informed me of your… speech impediment. But I assume you can, at the very least, nod or shake your head." Daphne said, and Harriet jerked her head in a nod. "Good. Now, Potter, Draco has asked me to help you. Normally, I wouldn't give him the time of day. He's a prat. Selfish, and self-centered. He rarely looks outside of his own influence. However, when he mentioned that it was you he wanted to help, well. That was interesting." Daphne absently plucked an invisible piece of lint off of her skirt. Her dark painted nails flashing in the firelight. "It's not normal for a Slytherin to help out a Hufflepuff. In general, we find you to be fairly useless. If not stupidly annoying. Placing loyalty above all else can lead to trouble."

Harriet surprisingly could agree to that. The lengths that the Herd would do just to keep Harriet near and within eyesight of them was exhausting. And for what? Just for Harriet to sit around and do nothing? No, it was because Harriet was one of them. And the Herd couldn't just let one of their own be alone and do whatever they pleased. No, the Herd needed her nearby at all times, just out of loyalty. To show that they cared enough to keep Harriet captive, but it didn't mean that they actually held any fondness towards her.

It was such a pain.

If Daphne thought Harriet would find it offensive then she didn't really show any surprise by the lack of anger on Harriet's face. Instead, she continued, "but there is something else that sets you apart from the other common folk. Besides being in one of the most annoyingly cheerful house, you are a source of interest to me. Because I have never, in my entire life, met such a mess like you." Daphne tilted her head, her long brown hair swaying gently. "Normally, I wouldn't care. Let the pigs play in the mud. That's where they belong. But you have a birthright, Potter. And I cannot believe you are representing your ancient bloodline like that." Daphne waved her hand.

Harriet slowly blinked. What on earth was Daphne going on about? Harriet was absolutely bewildered.

Daphne evidently saw Harriet's confusion and sighed. "You are the Potter Heiress. And yet you go around, looking like that? Draco told me that Professor Snape has been addressing the issue, but he's rather worried that you haven't quite gotten the clue yet. He is soft when it comes to those two thugs he's with all the time, and it seems that he is worried that you haven't picked up on it. He does love taking in stray animals."

Suddenly, Harriet understands this conversation. There were a lot of things that were important to her. Her list of important things started from 'learning runes to unblock herself,' to 'how to get back at Ron for being a miserable bastard' and 'how to get through the next transfiguration class without getting the evil eye from McGonagall.' And not once did Harriet's appearance cross her mind. It was so far down on Harriet's goals that it was practically an afterthought.

Snape loved using it against her though. Nitpicking on her hair, her clothing, her shoes, her posture, even how Harriet rolled her sleeves up. It was one of Snape's tools to use against her. Just an excuse to make Harriet lose her house points. Not that Harriet cared, but Snape liked to rub it into her face. It was better than what he could do if he decided that wasn't a punishment enough.

Harriet hadn't thought that her appearance truly mattered. Ever. So what if she got some dirt on herself? Or if she neglected to brush her hair? It wasn't the end of the world.

"I'm bored," Daphne spoke, crossing her legs. "And you are interesting to me, Potter. I can't stand listening to Parkinson's talk about her hair anymore. Everything is so frivolous and she has butterflies instead of brains. So here is what we are going to do. I am going to teach you how to look like an heiress of your class. I honestly don't care if you have a knut for a brain. But your appearance should reflect your ancestry. And in return, all I ask is for a favor. You owe me one." Daphne looked at Harriet, her sharp eyes glinting in the firelight. Poised. Predatory. She paused, "this is the part where you nod."

Harriet nodded.

"Hey Harriet," a breathless voice called out. Harriet looked up to see Neville, his face flushed, and a gleam in his eye. He looked happy. "I was wondering if you were going to be at the Quidditch match later today. It'll be super fun. I'm playing as the Gryffindor Seeker, and I uh, would love to see you there?" It was a rather unusually colder day in December, and Harriet had been crossing through one of the outer corridors after managing to escape the herd. Cold, as in, freezing her toes off while in class. Normally it didn't get cold in Hogwarts. At least not in the classrooms. And Harriet was off to the library to see if there was a potion book that had a recipe to keep her warm because the rest of the Hufflepuffs managed the warming charm and the chances of Harriet casting it was zero to nil. That's when Neville managed to run up to her, just like he hadn't been ignoring her for the past month.

Harriet didn't have a chance to respond to Neville's question. Honestly, she didn't know how to. What could she say to a boy who replaced her entirely? But the choice was stolen from her as Hermione poked her head around the corner. "Neville! You are going to be late. Ron is going barmey with worry. Get a move on."

"Promise you'll be there!" Neville called out to Harriet, flashing her a smile as he ran back the way he came. His Gryffindor scarf trailing behind him.

Harriet was left alone. The snow was only starting to fall outside the window showing the gentle breeze flowing around the crystal flakes. And that crushing sensation of being alone enveloped her. No wonder the Herd hadn't caught her in their grip today, they were all getting ready for the game.

Harriet turned and walked to her potion room under the staircase. She needed some time to feel better. Not to mention her new potions needed her attention. She was almost done with one. And not to mention Hedwig was getting a bit antsy. Her toad needed her. And maybe she could make a hot potion of some sort? But mostly Hedwig really needed her.

(Later that night, Harriet felt absolutely horrid. Neville had almost died. His broom was hexed. And somehow he still managed to catch the snitch. He won the game. Became an amazing hero. Some of the older Hufflepuff boys were despairing by how good Neville was, and how they were going to have to train more. Whoever heard of a seeker who caught the snitch in their mouth? It was all everybody could talk about.

Harriet didn't promise to go. She didn't. But somehow she still felt bad that Neville almost died.)

The first time Harriet wore her hair in a braid, Daphne hesitated. After a few weeks of Daphne trying to brush Harriet's hair, even with a charmed comb, had failed. And so did her efforts in trying to style Harriet's hair had also ended miserably, Daphne resorted to the simpler methods. At least, that's what she said. The braid that was currently wrapped around Daphne's head was so elaborate and detailed that it looked like it took her forever to make. It wasn't as good as curling her hair or styling it. And so braiding was the last resort. Still, the Slytherin girl did not give up. Even if Harriet's hair was far too gone for redemption. If it had been up to Harriet, she would have given up ages ago.

At least Daphne had instilled some terror into Harriet about getting into the habit of taking a shower. And Harriet finally let the house elves clean her clothes. (Harriet will not mention the fact that the elves wept at this request. Apparently they were trying to figure out a way to spirit them off of her without leaving her in the nude. It was finally then that maybe, perhaps possibly, Daphne had a point about being clean.) But when it came down to fixing Harriet's bird nest of hair, that was when the lessons managed to stall.

Her red locks would not stay up in a bun. Nor would they allow any kind of potion to work. Even Sleekeazy's Hair Potion wouldn't tame her locks. And that hair potion had been apparently made for Harriet's hair type. Daphne had an almost endless amount of hairstyles to do. Curling Harriet's hair made the wavy locks look like they got strangled. Straightening it didn't work either, as the waves made themselves known even after being heated up by Daphne's wand. Spraying things in her hair, leaving potions in after showering, heating it up, cooling it down, and yet nothing ever worked. Harriet's rat's nest was forever there.

"From your father," Daphne sniffed, "this trait is famous in your family. Although, right now it's a downright curse."

And so, Daphne finally had to submit and go the 'plebian' route. "Only those who wake up late, or don't have enough money to actually style their hair do this. Braids are acceptable in summer, but only if it is rude to cast a cooling spell on yourself." Daphne sniffed, "and they need to be up to standard. It can't be slapped together on a whim. This requires time and dedication."

Harriet nodded, as she felt the familiar hands touch her hair. The soft feeling of a brush gently detangling her hair. Even though Harriet had brushed it only that morning, there were snarls forming. Daphne parted her hair, and that was when she stopped.

It was so unusual. Daphne was like a river. She flowed with movement and rhythm. Never unsure of a single motion. It was comforting, on a small level. And Harriet liked having somebody do her hair. It was soothing.

"Ah," Daphne said, and then moved on. Like the small pause never happened. Her movements continued. Her fingers plucking out strands of hair and twisting them into a pattern. When she was done, she held out a mirror for Harriet. For once, some of her hair did listen. There were a few pieces that floated away from the bunch, and it made Harriet look frazzled. But it was markedly better than what it was before. Although, it was far too complicated for Harriet to do by herself. It was thick and woven together so beautifully. How could Harriet replicate this?

It was like Daphne read her thoughts, "you can come down here every other day." Daphne tapped at Harriet's braid. "And I'll do your hair." Her voice was softer. Less steel. The offer was strange too. Daphne pushed Harriet to learn to do things herself.

Harriet didn't say anything. Never one to question free offers.

After that, Malfoy complimented her on her hair, and Snape didn't snap at her as much. Comments about her appearance were still there. But Snape didn't dock as many points as before. So that was a good sign, right? After that, potions got just a teeny tiny bit more bearable. And that was worth it.

Plus, with her hair up in a braid, Harriet didn't have to worry about getting vomit in it.

Three days before Christmas break, Harriet tried her hand at runes. The castle was brimming with antsy students who just wanted to go home. Nobody was really paying attention to anything. Which was a great time for Harriet to try out a simple prank. After studying for months, she felt a bit confident in her knowledge. She tried it out once, writing out the runes on a sheet of parchment. She tied the bonding rune with the push and weight rune, combining the two in a harmony rune. It was simple. Two on the inside, with two on the outside. The symmetry was helping the runes create the balance, and hopefully wouldn't explode.

Hopefully.

The second Harriet's pen touched the parchment, her pen ripped itself out of her hand and flew into Harriet's face with a smack. With a surprising amount of force. It stung to high heaven. Huh. Maybe she was really good at making runes. After a few more tests, one of which was tossing her bloody potions book onto the parchment (it slammed into the stone roof and dirt fell onto her, ruining a potion for Merlin's sake why), Harriet deemed it to be acceptable. Although maybe it was overpowered?

(Runes run on a wizards or witches power. Whoever accidentally set off the conditions of the runes had their power drawn on. A danger that was heavily implied over and over again. The second your magic ran out, runes would run on your blood and then your soul. It was a very painful, and bloody, way to die. Some of the rune books Harriet read went into depth about the results. It was horrifying, to say the least.

And Harriet kept a careful eye on herself after that. She had used an awful lot of energy on the rune. Setting it off after trying it a few times. And sure enough, Harriet couldn't cast a single charm later in class. Flitwick was disappointed but unsurprised. But what was odd to Harriet was that she didn't feel the symptoms that the textbooks described. No shortness of breath, weakness, nausea, extreme hunger or thirst, there was nothing. The implication was clear- Harriet had no idea how many times she could activate a rune. She didn't have any warning. Who knows, she might accidentally trigger one and then drop down dead. That was a scary thought.)

Nah. It wasn't overpowered. It was because Harriet had a low ceiling. Of course things slammed into it. (She tried not to think about what would happen if the rune was overpowered. Maybe… people could get really hurt. Harriet paused, then shrugged. She did have a low ceiling. She was under a staircase after all.)

So Harriet enacted out her prank. Waking up early was a pain and a half, but Harriet was able to slip out of Hufflepuff dorms without any prying eyes. It was the best time to wander the castle. The torches were out. The portraits slept. Nobody prowled in the hallways. And there was silence. Blessed silence.

Harriet crept up the stairs and went to the one place she loathed the most. The Great Hall. It was disconcerting to see it so empty. It actually caught Harriet off guard. Every single time she came in here when it was nighttime it gave her shivers. It didn't normally look so big during the day time. But the stars were beautiful to see. Harriet spared herself a minute to stare up at the night sky. A cloud floated next to the moon, its shape lit up. It was so peaceful.

Then she got to work. Heading over to the Gryffindor bench, specifically the ones where the Weasley's sat, Harriet, crawled underneath one and uncapped the sharpie. She smiled as she wrote the runes, chuckling to herself.

This was fun. The adrenaline and rush that came from this were powerful.

The next morning, Harriet stumbled awake from her short nap and got dressed. Her clothes were neat and tidy, just like Daphne taught her. And her hair was still kept in her braid from the previous day, although there were more loose strands than before. The incredible amount of sticking cream that was coated in her hair was working. And when the Herd finally collected her for breakfast, Harriet was ready. And she wasn't disappointed.

The first one flung off the bench was one of the Weasleys. The older boy. The Prefect. He went into the air about three feet before crashing down. The room practically gasped in unison as he swore loudly and without taking a breath. What a vulgar mouth! Harriet hid her amusement behind her goblet of pumpkin juice. The Prefect Weasley never swore. Much less so loudly and in front of other people. After that, though, the other Gryffindor students warned the other students who slowly trickled in. The bench was usually packed with people. But today, it was empty.

Harriet pouted. She hoped she could at least bag two more kids. At least she could say she tricked more than one person. But alas, getting one Weasley would be enough for her pride.

And then, just as Harriet was about to leave, the twins came in. They were rumpled and clearly threw on the first thing near them. Tired wasn't just a word when it came to describing them, they were clearly exhausted. They weren't even wearing their ties. And since it was nearly time to get to class, it was obvious that the twins had slept in. In fact, it looked like they would rather still be in bed, a sentiment that Harriet shared with them.

The two didn't even look up as they walked towards their spot at the table. Not once. And Harriet's heart began to beat out a hopeful tune. She held her breath. Watching. Hoping. Lord, please don't let anybody warn them. Please.

Nobody did. The majority of the Gryffindors glared at the two, who were oblivious to them. Lost in their own minds.

The twins sat down and were promptly launched into the air. They went about six feet into the air before hitting the ground with a painful groan. Harriet winced as they heaved for breath in unison, the air clearly knocked out of them.

"Merlin." Hannah leaned forwards. "Are they okay?" But her words were lost as the twins began to shout.

"That is it!" One twin yelled out. Sticking his arm into the air, he raised himself up to glare at the student population. "We surrender! We give up! You win! You are too good!" He waved his arm. Then slumped back down on the ground with a groan.

The other chuckled darkly. "That is one way to wake up." He moaned as he climbed to his knees. "How in the seven hells did they do that?" He leaned over the bench, careful not to touch it. And very gingerly moved as he bent under, peering beneath. "Runes." He sighed and slumped. "They know runes. What the hell. Classes don't start writing runes out until the fifth year. Fred, they know runes. They have to be an older student."

"Fred, George," Prefect Weasley came up to them. And he looked concerned. How surprising. "Are you alright? Do I need to get Madam Pomfrey?"

"My pride will never be the same." The first twin wheased.

"We can never go home again. We lost our honor." The second bemoaned. "Tell mother we can never have her meatloaf again. A tragedy, but we must suffer the consequences."

"I- why did you sit on the bench!?" The Prefect Weasley looked dumbfounded. "You did this!"

"We've been telling you for weeks!" The first twin yelled, exasperated. His teasing tone was gone, as he was at the end of his rope. Flinging his arms into the air. "Months even!" His voice was loud in the silent room.

"You never listen to us." The second one called out. "We haven't been doing these pranks! This is somebody else! It's not us."

"We are innocent!" They called out together. Those words echoed in the Great Hall.

Somebody else.

"Merlin." Susan mused, catching Harriet's attention. "I think they are right. There has been somebody else doing those terrible jokes on everybody."

"Now I feel bad now." Hannah said, "I've been blaming them the entire time. I've complained to Professor Sprout. I-I should apologize."

Harriet's mouth was dry. But not in a bad way. And she felt heat going up her face. Almost unbearably hot. She turned and ran, and nobody stopped her. Harriet didn't stop running until she was in a girls bathroom, her fingers fumbling to turn on a sink. Cool water ran free, and Harriet splashed herself several times. Yet the heat didn't dissipate. She glanced up in the mirror and found her face red. Her eyes suspiciously wet.

With a release of breath, Harriet finally let loose a tide of giggles. "I did it." She whispered, leaning on the sink, staring into the mirror. "People are seeing me." A soft and hopeful smile enveloped her face, and Harriet felt light and bubbly. "They finally see me."

When Christmas break rolled around, Harriet was busy. The castle was practically empty, with a few lingering students here or there. Mostly Ravenclaws and a splash of Gryffindors. There was one older Hufflepuff, who was a seventh year. But she barely paid any attention to Harriet, which was great. Freeing. Besides the mandatory meals, Harriet was alone and it was great. Nobody was looking for her. Nobody was pulling her to classes. And she, although through great effort, even managed to get through all of her homework to make sure she had all the time in the world to do what she wanted.

(The more she spent time with herself, the more that crushing feeling of loneliness dissipated. Maybe Harriet got used to it. Or maybe she finally threw herself fully into her books and experiments. She didn't have much of a social life, besides interacting with the odd house elf. And Harriet was… sort of okay with it now. If she didn't care much about it then she didn't feel any pain.)

It was odd to walk through Hogwarts halls without the hustle and bustle of the other students. Harriet was certain that it was night time until she came across a corridor that had windows, which spilled the frosty winter light through. It felt like Harriet had stepped into a new dimension entirely. Odd. And almost uneasy. But Harriet decided she was going to dedicate her time with her potions. It was the one area of study that always got the short end of the stick. It was whenever Harriet had a few free hours, or a few minutes spared here or there. Most of the time Harriet was exhausted, unable to sleep that night. And her work wasn't always thought out clearly. Honestly, it was a miracle that she was able to create Thaw-Me-Not. She hardly had time to keep her eyes on the poor potions for more than a few minutes, rather than the hours or days they could demand her time.

Harriet grinned and knuckled down into her work. Finally free to do what she really wanted.

Christmas was grand. The best one yet, by far. It already exceeded any Christmas at the Dursley household, because Harriet hadn't spent most of the night wrapping presents for Dudley. If one box didn't look perfect to Petunia's standards, Harriet wouldn't get a meal that day. Even after slaving over the small roasted goose for the afternoon. And if Harriet was really good, and if the Dursleys were really kind, they would take her to the Christmas mass. And there, Harriet would listen to the Christmas songs performed by the choir. It was peaceful, in those moments. And Harriet could properly say that she felt the Christmas spirit. However faint it was. Then she was shunted off to her cupboard and ignored.

But this Christmas Harriet slept in and it was glorious. And when she awoke from her slumber, she found she had five presents wrapped up in moving wrapping paper. The designs on the paper and ribbons were flowing. Four of them were done with tasteful silver, white, and green colors. A dragon raced around on one. And the last one was wrapped in yellow and black, but it was lumpy and the paper was crooked. The presentation didn't matter to Harriet though. It really was the thought that counted.

Harriet pinched herself. Her throat was raw, and she sniffled. She picked up the smallest one first and picked at the wrapping paper. She couldn't tear into such pretty designs of snowflakes floating in the wind. The paper held no tape (which took Harriet a full second to remember that there wasn't tape here, this was the wizarding world after all), and the small sticking charm unstuck with a small bit of effort. Each movement was done with care. Harriet took her time, opening it with soft touches. Every second that past two parts of her warred at herself. The excitement of finding out what her gifts were that pushed Harriet to rip open each box. And the quiet happiness that pulled herself to slow down, to savor each and every second of it. The second half won.

It was a box that held a simple comb. It had a pretty design done in black and golden stones at the base, and a small note was folded on top.

"Happy Yule," Harriet whispered as she read it, "from Daphne. Take care, and practice while you can. See you next year." She bit at her lip and used the comb in her hair. It ran smoothly through her locks, detangling her hair as it went. She didn't stop until her hair was smooth, and then she moved on.

The next three presents were handled with the same amount of care. A box of ice mice from Draco, wishing her a happy holiday. A box of mint fudge from Goyle and a box of dragon fruit pops from Crabbe. Each came with a simple note to take care and happy holidays. Harriet placed them to the side with a touch of reverence, before moving onto the oddly wrapped parcel. And soon Harriet found out why. It was a pot that held a plant. Along with a tag.

Harriet, I was able to get my hands on a small cutting of Dragons Bane. I know we've had a conversation about it, and how it helps with pests. I was able to grow some extra and figured you'd appreciate it as well. I've heard a rumor from some of the older Gryffindors that there is an abundance of six-leaved pixie moss that grows during the springtime. How amazing is that? We should go find it together some time. When things stop being crazy.

Happy Yule,

Heir Neville Longbottom.

P.S. my gran would love to meet you. She says your family is 'good stock' whatever that means. She probably wants to drink tea with you or something.

Harriet smiled. She was still hurt that Neville ignored her for two months. But she also hadn't gone out of her way to include him in her life as well. Maybe… he missed her as much as she missed him? First chance she'd get, she'd talk to him. At least thank him for being so thoughtful for the gift. Harriet was touched that he remembered her at all. Much less a conversation that happened so long ago.

The rest of Christmas was nice. The kind of nice that went in hand with warm fires and sweaters on cold days. Harriet got to open a popper, which gave her a tiara and four packs of 'toe-jam-away' which was odd. But perhaps useful? The room was quiet, even with the few students and faculty there. The twins were gone, along with the rest of the Weasley clan. And it was surprising how much Harriet missed watching them. Her eyes would travel over to the Gryffindor table and it would take her a second to snap out of it. She just... she just liked to watch them. To try and figure out their evil devious plans! Because they were smart. And Harriet really liked to see what they could come up with next. She poked at her Christmas ham, pushing it around the plate.

Their surrender still made her smile. So maybe they wouldn't prank as often as before, seemingly almost every day. But Harriet was still sure that they were going to do a few tricks here or there.

They were… okay. Not bad. Not like Ron or the stuck up Prefect Weasley. They always were so snobbish. Harriet could stand them. But they were… okay. Not the worst. But it didn't mean that they were great or anything. Nope! They were simply okay.

Christmas was nice. The kind of nice that reminded Harriet of easy days, or that peaceful feeling when she closed her eyes and listened to Christmas Carols. It was the first time that Harriet actually celebrated a holiday.

Christmas was nice, until-

"Miss Potter." An aged old voice spoke. And Harriet broke herself out of her thoughts and looked up to meet the gaze of Albus Dumbledore. The lurching in her stomach suddenly reminded Harriet of being around Snape. And the cold dread settled around her. She dropped her gaze. "Merry Christmas!"

Harriet nodded. Looking down, her hand coming up to scratch at her nose. It was the best she could do to try and hide. Her hair was pulled up in a sloppy crooked braid. Her defense had been down and she hadn't expected this happening. She couldn't hide behind her hair anymore. She felt exposed. Vulnerable.

"I hope you have had a wonderful time here." Dumbledore continued, and then he decided to sit down. Harriet tensed. Why was he sitting down? "Hogwarts during Christmas time is always a wonderful sight to behold. Every year here I am reminded of my time from when I was a student here. Although lovely, I am sure it's hard to be here when you have family elsewhere. Christmas is a time to be with one's loved ones." The old man mused, "ah, forgive me. I am getting ahead of myself. Lemon drop?" He held out a wrapped candy.

Reluctantly, although as if it would burn her, Harriet took it. What other choice did she have? "I hope you like it, my dear. They have been my favourite since I was a young lad. Tart, with a hint of sweetness. It warms my heart you took one. Most people decline."

Harriet unwrapped it and gave it a careful study. It didn't seem to be tampered. And she didn't see anything odd besides its obviously bright yellow color. And then she popped it into her mouth. It was sour. Just like Dumbledore said it was. Over the taste of it, Harriet couldn't detect any other hints. No potions. Otherwise, she would have spat it out, Headmaster being next to her or not. Once the shock of tartness faded, it was bitter. And ashy.

Harriet decided right there that she did not like lemons anymore.

"It's muggle made." Dumbledore interpreted Harriet's cautious study of it. He came across rather pleased by this. "Muggles make the most marvelous things, don't you agree Harriet? I've had, what Muggle's call, M and M's before? Simply marvelous. And I do love those little disks called Smarties." He pulled out another wrapped candy from his sleeve and began to open it. "I'm sorry if I am coming across a little excited, it's not every day that I get to explain about these. I hope you forgive my rambling."

Forgive me. That was a common phrase he said a lot. Harriet stared down at her water, her mouth puckered. She bet it was all a part of his old man disguise. Just like how Miss Figg was the crazy cat lady of the neighborhood. He wanted to lower her guard. Well, too bad Harriet knew he was awful and evil. She was never going to forgive him for anything! In fact, she started a mental tally of things to never forgive him of. One, for talking about family and Christmas. And two, for rambling about candy...

"Harriet, my girl. As much as I want to spread the cheer of Christmas, I have to confess that I have come to talk to you about something else." Dumbledore spoke.

Three, confessing his true nature. Being a manipulative goat. Gee, this list was already getting long. Too bad Harriet didn't care about how long his list of crimes would be. He'd pay for it. One day. He was only digging his grave deeper.

Dumbledore continued. "Professor Sprout and I had a small discussion about you this morning, and we decided that you have had a rather rough transfer from home life to school life. Which isn't a bad thing. Some people need more time to settle in here at Hogwarts. Even I had some small difficulty getting used to being here when I first arrived. And we thought that a good way to help you this Christmas is to let you recuperate with your family."

What was he trying to say? Harriet felt panic grip her heart. Were they going to send her home? To the Dursleys? Just when this vacation was only starting? No! They can't send her home.

Panic read on her face. And Dumbledore smiled at her. "We aren't sending you home. No, we were thinking of letting you take a trip. We usually do not offer these services during the school year. Nor the holidays, but Professor Sprout volunteered. And I trust her. She truly wishes to see you succeed and happy here Harriet my dear. At lunch, she'll take you to Saint Mungo's to go see your parents."

Harriet's world halted. Her breath shuddered. Her parents.

Christmas was a weird time in the Weasley household. Fred and George rarely came home during the holidays, and this year was the first time they were able to do so since starting school. They had missed Christmas in the Burrow the last two years. Nonplussed, they had their family still with them. Charlie only graduated last year, and Bill had left before they got there. So it had been Charlie, Percy, and the two of them for the last few years. This time, Ron replaced Charlie (it probably wasn't a fair exchange, but Fred and George wouldn't mention it. They did love Ron, even if he still had a lot of growing up to do) and they were prepared to stay at Hogwarts for a third time. Instead, they received a letter from Ginny asking them to come home, and the Weasleys decided to change their plans.

Which might have been a mistake.

"I swear if Mum tries to make me clean one more pot," George muttered, slumped on Fred's bed.

"It could be worse." Fred didn't glance up from his book. "She could be asking you to entertain the guests."

George groaned. And he pulled Fred's pillow over to him to shove his face into it. "I can't believe that Mum had the nerve to invite so many people over."

"It wasn't just Mum."

"Yeah, but I'm not counting Tonks. Charlie has great taste in girlfriends. She's not too bad to hang around." George muttered. "But really, can't we go one hol without a thousand people around? I feel like it's all a publicity stunt. To make us look as if we aren't threatening each other behind Mum's back. One happy family."

Fred hummed then looked up, "somebody does need a family. I think I am alright with Neville here." He flipped a page. "Even though his crazy batty grandmother comes around to insult everything. Did you see Dad's face when she called his muggle obsession a 'hobby that he needed to get rid of, to support his family more?'"

"Holy shite, she said that? To Dad? To his face?" George lifted the pillow momentarily to stare at Fred with shock.

"Mum had to convince him to let her come back here again. Mostly because he thinks Neville should have a chance to have a normal holiday. Even with his crazy family around." Fred put the book down, "and I get it. Neville is a nice kid. He doesn't deserve to be with his soul-sucking grandmother during Christmas alone."

George nodded, agreeing. "That's true. I only wish that it didn't mean that we have to clean everything for them to come over. Merlin knows how often Neville has seen our messy house."

"Yeah. I wish we didn't have to spend our vacation cleaning." That was what Fred said, but the unspoken words of I wish we didn't spend our vacation here were both heard by them. The way that Fred tried to lock himself in their room, the shifting nervous energy that George had, the way that they looked at each other after every new order their mother gave them, spoke the same message. This wasn't a vacation. This wasn't even much of a holiday. The surprise of Ginny asking them home blinded them to the reality that they faced every summer. They say that your memories get dimmer as time goes past, which is why the twins foolishly and stupidly came home.

There were a few reasons why they didn't like to be home that much. One, their mother has this crazy idea that if they were kept busy all the time then they wouldn't get into trouble. Numerous times they tried to prove her wrong. But Molly Weasley was the most stubborn woman in the world. That meant constant harassment from their mother to do things. And secondly, the terrible duo. Also known as Ron and Ginny. The two of them had one knut for a brain when they combined. And all they could think about is themselves. It was painful to be around such self-centered people. Fred and George pray to whoever would listen that their siblings would grow up. Preferably within the next few minutes before one of the twins would murder their younger sibling. And thirdly, and the most important reason, was that Lee wasn't around for pepper-up potions.

It was like a cesspool of the worst-case scenarios happening all at once. Lee had provided them with a batch before they went home, but Fred and George burned it all within a few days. Bad habit, yes. But they really couldn't do anything whenever Molly thought they were awake. So they took to staying up all night and tossing a potion down whenever they were falling asleep. The only comfort they could gain from this trip was that Bill and Charlie, including Charlie's girlfriend, Tonks, were going to be home. They hadn't been home in ages. And the twins couldn't blame them. Their mother had already gone off on Charlie for not getting a job at the ministry and getting an internship at a Magi-Zoo.

"George! Fred! Get down here. I need you to do the dishes. Now!" Their mother's voice drifted up the staircase. And George shoved the pillow back onto his head and yelled into it. Fred slumped down into his bed further.

"What if we didn't hear her?" Fred asked.

George muffled words were swallowed by the pillow. They sounded rather explicit and not the answer that Fred was looking for.

"Right," Fred sighed, "we better go then. Before she barges in here."

The strength that it took for them to slink out of their room and down the stairs was astronomical. Fred was rather proud of their unity. If only he didn't immediately regret it as soon as he walked into the kitchen, where Ginny and Molly were. The kitchen sink was full of pots and pans, piled high.

Why couldn't their mother bother to use magic?

Oh yes, they can't be up to pranks if they were busy with chores. Fred closed his eyes and took a deep breath. George matched him. It was refreshing to know somebody so well that they both reacted the same way. What a mess they had to deal with.

"Oh George," Molly brushed up to Fred, "you do the washing. Fred will do the drying, alright? You two behave." She gave her sons a meaningful look.

"Yeah," George mumbled, and Fred could feel the headache forming in his brother's head. "Nothin' will go wrong. Best behavior. Promise."

Ginny cut in before Molly could say anything. "Mum! You didn't say which dress was better for dinner tonight!" She held up two dresses. One pink. One red. Fred narrowed his eyes at the pink one… that looked familiar. Wasn't that Percy's old nightgown, because he was secretly an old man who had nightgowns? Mum must've resized it and added all those bows.

"Isn't the red one one of Percy's old nightgowns?" George whispered to Fred, but unfortunately, their little sister still heard.

"Mum!" Ginny grew red in the face. "They're making fun of me." Her bottom lip wobbled.

"Nah, I could've sworn it was the pink one," Fred whispered back. "Didn't we accidentally dye that one?" Ginny turned even redder as George hummed and nodded. She burst into tears and ran away. Her stomping was heard throughout the entire house. When she slammed the door the glass in the window pane shook.

"Boys! Dishes now." Molly wagged her finger at the two, a scowl on her face. "You ought to know better than to make your sister upset. You are the older ones, you shouldn't make her cry. She still has a lot of growing up to do." And she left, no doubt to comfort her daughter.

"Yes, mum." George and Fred chimed as Molly walked out. And finally, they were set onto their task. The dishes were plentiful and seemed to be a hundred of them. However, it was a task they often had to do and so they had a set rhythm. Fred usually cleaned the dishes while George dried and put them away, much like how their mother told them to do it. Except she always got their names wrong. But then again, almost everybody did. Lee didn't, and that's why he was a great friend. He just usually called them bastards and that was it. And since Lee was raised in Ireland, that was all but proclaiming love.

The thing about the Burrow was that there was always somebody coming and going. And so it wasn't long before Charlie appeared. Making their job somewhat enjoyable, because Charlie always had the best stories to tell them. Bill walked through at one point and waved at all of them before snagging a piece of bread before disappearing again. He was the smartest of the bunch. Apprentice curse breaker. But that also meant he knew a great deal about wards, and so the smallest bedroom in the attic was his and it was impossible for their mum to get in and harass him. He had set it up during his first night when Molly hadn't left him alone about his job. Good for him. They had to get him to put one up on their door before Bill left to go back to Egypt. Ah, good old Bill.

At one point, Molly had also come in when Charlie was telling a fascinating tale about an escaped green-winged moss fairy. "Have you seen your brother Bill?" She asked, in a huff. At this point, the dishes were halfway done. Fred was scrubbing a nasty bit of dried food from a pan. Suds going up to his arms.

"Nope!" George, Fred, and even Charlie spoke. Molly gave another despairing sigh and turned on her heel. The wrath of their mother was a force to be worried about. And they had all felt the full force of Molly's ire before, and it was out of sibling solidarity that they didn't sell Bill out.

"That boy!" She muttered before storming out.

After that, the friendly stories continued. It was nice to catch up. So much had happened since they had parted. And Fred and George could honestly say that they really enjoyed being around their older brothers. At one point, Charlie had inquired about Hogwarts. It was his first year away from school. And George launched into the fantastic story of the Other Guy. How brilliant and seemingly impossible things that the Other Guy had done, and how they traded back and forth. George was telling Charlie about the unmeltable ice rink when Fred stiffened up and fell over. A plate crashed onto the floor, shattering.

"Fred!"

The two rushed over to Fred, who remained on the ground unmoving. George was the one who checked for a pulse and found it beating steadily against his fingers. Charlie was fluttering around, muttering and being generally useless. Brilliant with magical animals, Charlie was clueless when it came to humans.

"Oh merlin, merlin, merlin." Charlie muttered, "is he okay? Should I go get mum? What happened? Should I get Bill?"

"He's okay," George said, and sure enough, Fred started to stir. It was short. Within forty seconds his brother was recovering. Sometimes, very rarely, Fred would pass out. He always recovered within five minutes. But it was still concerning. "Hello, Sleeping Beauty." One of the few muggle references they knew, due to a muggle book that Ginny had.

Instead of banter, tomfoolery, or other such shenanigans that the twins often did whenever they felt the need to brush off something frightening, Fred reached up and gripped George's shirt. His eyes were wide, his face was paler than normal, causing his freckles to stand out like ink on his skin. "George, somethings going to happen." He whispered, his voice strangled like he hadn't been talking for a long time. "I- there was red hair. And so much blood. Books can lie, George. And it's going to happen. Soon." Fred's grip tightened on George staring up into his brother's face, "somebody is going to die."

There was a beat of silence. George didn't know how to process this. And clearly, neither did Fred. The whirlwind of thoughts started to swarm. What could they do? Who is going to die? How can they prevent this? Is it somebody at school? Is it-

"What," Charlie asked with a flat voice, "the hell."

(It is to be said, those who take certain places of people in universes have the same story. For example, in universe 4,325,243, Harriet Potter was not the chosen one. She and another boy, Neville Longbottom, had switched places entirely. His story, which is well known in the main universe, was switched with the male counterpart of Harriet Potter. Now, things will not be exactly the same between the two stories, but for the most part, there are a few things that history likes to repeat.

One of which was a solemn visit to the parents who resided in Saint Mungos every Christmas.

(Lily and James Potter lived in a colorless world. White beds. White curtains. White walls. Even their clothes, uniform and baggy, on their thin bodies were white. The snow outside brought out the brilliant luminosity of the shade, turning it from a warm color into something cold and hard. If Harriet could say it, their room was icy and dark. Even though it was well lit.

Lily had her window open. The woman hummed, swaying back and forth on the bed. Her hair was short, cropped that way so that it wouldn't get caught on anything. But Harriet could tell that it was straight. After struggling with her hair for so long, it was hard to get the thought out of Harriet's head that her mum never had to deal with Harriet's tangled unruly hair. It was a strange thought to have. But it stuck inside of Harriet's mind, unable to get out. Lily swayed back and forth, odd notes coming out of her mouth. The tune was unrecognizable. As Harriet walked in, there was nothing in those green eyes. They just stared off into the distance, unfocused. Her mother never turned her head.

James on the other hand was bald. It had always been that way, ever since Harriet had first visited. He laid in the bed, motionless. Still. Besides the movement of his chest, Harriet might have even thought them to be dead. His skin was darker, he was supposed to be more tan, and yet he was so incredibly pale. If not for the fact that it still held a hint of rosy brown in it, James Potter would have matched bedsheets. They say he hadn't moved in years. He got it worse than Lily. Brave, the nurses said, just like a Gryffindor.

Harriet sat down. Sprout was waiting for her in the hallway. And Harriet sniffled, tears pricking at her eyes. It was a sharp pain.

"Hullo mum, dad." Harriet spoke, "so I got into Hufflepuff. Couldn't find my way into that blasted red house. The hat had it out for me, you see?" She paused, her voice getting thick. Lily hadn't stopped humming. Her eyes still staring forwards. And James didn't so much as twitch.

"I, uh." Harriet fumbled around for words. What should she say? What could she say? The words started to spill out. "There are these two boys. I can't remember their names. I just call them the Twins. They are funny. Sort of. And smart. Kind of. And uh, they make Hogwarts feel nice? I dunno, lighter? They prank people, you see. And I'm going to tell you a bit of a secret, okay? So don't blab on me. But," Harriet leaned in and whispered, "I'm pranking them back too. But nobody knows it's me. Cuz I blend in. And these twins. They do brilliant things. They once made everybody grow facial hair-"

And Harriet talked on. Talking about Hogwarts. About her potions. About everything and anything Harriet could think of. And it was nice to share it. But the agony that clutched at her heart was crushing it the longer Harriet stayed. Until finally, Harriet ran out of words to even say anything. She stared down at the white floor. An uncomfortable thought wormed it's way into her mind, making her heart hurt even worse.

It felt like she was talking to their graves.

After that, Harriet left. Sprout was waiting for her, and the walls of Saint Mungos were quickly replaced by Hogwarts' familiar halls.

Lily and James Potter lived in a colorless world. From their beds to the curtains, and even to the pottery on the nightstand. There was nothing there. Even the fresh vase of colorless lilies that sat next to her mother was empty of any hue. And it broke Harriet a little bit. Leaving a piece of her inside that room with her parents. White and emotionless, just like how she felt.)