RH and GB

by Skcymooree's Azure

HP multidimentional beings FHP NBWL

20. Chapter 20

Once upon a time, there were three brothers.

And those three brothers cheated death. In the famous story about them, told as a children's tale, there were main things lacking. They did not, in fact, cheat death once. But thrice. Each of them lived, thrived even, under Death's dooming stare. And that was what drew them into his service. For Death loves what he cannot grasp easily.

"I will give you whatever you want." Said Death, "if you work for me in the afterlife." It was a terrible deal, truth be told. They didn't get benefits or anything. Or even pay. But the three brothers indebted themselves into his service for three items. A wand, which was made from the bones of Death himself. A stone, which was plucked from Death's eye socket. And a cloak, which was one of Death's wings.

He gave them a piece of himself. So that when he came to reclaim the items, the three brothers would eternally be his.

What Death did not account for was Fate sticking her long nose into things. Fate found these three brothers before they died, which Death had engineered for them to quickly do so (except the youngest evaded him for decades), and found pieces of Death on them. Of course, how could Fate resist? She doomed Death. Making it so the pieces of himself would never be returned to him again. The Master of Death, one of the lines of Peverell, would someday rule with Death, side by side. (It was a scheme to get Death dating again. In some universes, it works. In others, it does not.)

Let's just say that Death was not happy when he found out.

Once upon a time, there were three brothers. The eldest lusted for power. The middle child wanted control over everything. And the last wanted peace and happiness. And they were Death's right-hand men. Think of them as thugs, but on the level of power that nobody could surpass. A single touch would send a human's soul to the abyss. They took their roles seriously. The rules that Death made were the ones they upheld, letting no other being pass by them. Until there was a system change over and suddenly they weren't beating up lost souls who resisted dying, but rather desk jockeys who had mounds of paperwork to do.

Let just say, it was an unpleasant shock.

The three brothers fell into the roles of Death's administrators for Death Incorporated. They still terrorized the beings that worked for them. Without a doubt, they were fearsome. Even if they gained roles that made them step back in their service, they still kept a tight reign on Death's organization.

The eldest brother, Antonich was a beast in accounting. He had a serpent tongue and could sway any being into his service. Which was probably why he was well-staffed, and his two brothers were a bit understaffed. He was dangerously good at his job. Which was also how he also gained control over another part of the office, besides accounting. He was in charge of the reapers, who were loyal minions of Death. Antonich ran the military, and he was great at organizing them effortlessly.

Cadmus, the middle brother, was in charge of HR. He too was very good at calling in his followers. They came to him like a moth to a flame, and they too, would also willingly throw themselves into the fire if Cadumus wanted them to. HR was more like a cult than anything. They practically worshiped Cadmus. He ran his part of the office like a well-oiled machine. Not a paper out of place. He was strict. But once a being of power fell under his spell of honeyed words, they didn't care how Cadmus treated them.

And Ignotus, the final brother, was in charge of reviewing case files. If there were anybody who didn't follow a certain type of faith and died being a little bit neutral, there was a dispute whether or not heaven or hell would take them in. Ignotus would review the person's life, then send them on to wherever they deserved. He was severely understaffed, but he would regularly go in and steal his brother's employees due to the copious amounts of paperwork that would appear. His office was always in a constant cycle of buried paperwork until Ignotus clawed his way out.

Things were, overall, not bad. It wasn't awful. But it wasn't great either.

And then, one day, Death allowed them to be reincarnated. Just for shit and giggles. For they would return to his service after their second lives. And he would give them a lot of paperwork for leaving him for so many years. Death was rather bored, and his minions looked like they were dying. Ha. And so he ambushed them when it was their coffee break and sent them back into the land of the living.

The eldest lusted for power.

The middle child wanted control over everything.

The youngest only wanted peace and happiness.

It was truly unfortunate that in this life, it was the youngest who had an early death. Instead of living to their full potential, of having a long and nice rest from the unending amount of work that Death gave to them, the one who was once known as Ignotus Peverell perished. Leaving behind their brothers, who wreaked havoc in the world. Much to Death's delight.

(Leaving Ignotus the sole bearer of so much paperwork. They were tempted to hop into the living world and kill their brothers just so they'd get a break. But instead resisted. For they had a train to catch. And a new Master of Death to welcome.)

Death watched the small body of the girl fall limply onto the bloodied and stained grass. Her rasping breaths still cut into the air. He glanced at his scythe, which he merrily swung at the girl who was just begging to die. The metal, which was a pure form of his deathly power, had not killed the brat. Instead, it was fractured and broken by the blow. White spiderwebs cracked on the surface, and slowly it began to heal itself returning to its original state.

"Is this what she meant to do?" Death murmured, "when that Mod messsed up that universe? Is this that universe she hacked into?" He didn't have neat numbers or reports to tell him which plane of existence he ended up on, but he was sure this was the one that annoying stuck up Mod had interfered with. She was one of the few Mod's that Death liked, although he was certain he hadn't yet met her. Time was a bit funky when it came to Death. He hadn't met that Mod before, yet obviously he knew her. (Time himself, yet another being of great power, hated Death's ability to walk around his rules. It was pretty funny to watch Time get frustrated when Death finds yet another loophole in the thousands of contracts sent his way. It's a shame that Death took all of the lawyers into his organization. Lawyers are cutthroats, after all.) Although there were millions of Mod's out there, he could have been mistaken. Maybe he did know that Mod, but he didn't lift a finger to stop her from messing with Fate. She was such a bitch she needed a wake up call now and again.

He glared down at the little brat who was now immune to his power. Yet another Mod out of thousands. Nothing strange about it, except... She did sort of look like the other Mod, didn't she? The one who messed around in Fate's office. But then again, every Mod looked alike because, for the most part, they were the same person.

Potters.

"This was supposed to happen," Death repeated what the Master of Death told him after he warned her not to mess with powers above her station. "Well fuck me." Time will have an absolute conniption knowing that one of the Mod's suddenly gained power over him. It almost made Death feel proud, like a parent, that his little minons were learning from him. Too bad that Death didn't care for Time. He had a huge grudge against the watch-maker. Time did vote not to undo Fate's curse on Death in the first place. He said that Death had to learn about 'accountability' and 'somebody had to control him.'

As if a Master of Death could actually command him. They were just immortal, with a boost of power. Nothing could repress Death. He was his own person.

He grinned. He was always grinning, as his face was a skull, but this time he was actually happy. Things were going to happen. The status quo was going to be upset. No doubt a meeting would be called over this, and he couldn't wait to see Fates reaction. He waved his hand, summoning a stray reaper. "Commandeer this universe. I want it," he spoke, and the reaper left with a brisk nod. The nondescript man in a suit and tie disappeared back into the shadows, armed with a clipboard and an ink pen. Fate had better watch out.

With a casual hand, Death teleported the newly made Mod brat off to the centaurs in the forest, who were cowering with fear. They were always a sensitive bunch. They could constantly tell when Death was around. Probably because they were so intuned with Destiny. He picked up the ritual book, then threw it into a pocket universe. He'll look at it later. Maybe figure out how the brat skirted around the rules that Fate made. And then, with a deranged cackle, he set fire to the Forbidden Forest.

Death loved creating chaos.

Harriet was at a train station. The pain and agony still lingered in her chest, but it did not grow anymore. The magic was ebbing out of her. Fading away. Leaving her as it stopped being pumped into her, making her limbs shake with relief. It drifted out into the air, escaping without blowing her up. But her blood didn't cease in its escape attempt from her body, sliding down her chin to drip onto the floor. Harriet's body still hurt. Not as bad as before, but it ached. And she didn't know where she was. She was at a train station and Harriet knew without a doubt, that with all the magic in the world she shouldn't be here right now. She couldn't be here right now. Magic didn't do things like this.

There was something so wrong about it. The white colorless walls. How everything was transparent. And the train itself. It was washed out and gray. It reminded Harriet of Hogwarts Express but this wasn't it. It was twisted and wrong. Like somebody had taken a distant memory of the platform and twisted it into a ghostly form of it.

Her head pounded.

"Hello." Said a young voice. Harriet turned and saw a young girl. She was younger than Harriet, with her hair up in a pale blue bow. "It's nice to meet you."

"W-who are you?" Harriet's voice cracked. It was wrecked. She felt torn up and unrepairable. It felt like she was disgusting. The lowest of the low. Like she had ripped her soul in half and now she was worthless. Her breath misted out in the chilled atmosphere. "Where- where am I?" It was cold. Unbearably so. Her body began to shiver, but it was reluctant due to the amount of agony that moving caused her. Her teeth chattered.

"That's a great question!" The girl happily chimed, "I love having actual human interaction. Like a conversation. This is amazing. I've missed talking so much."

"What?" Harriet asked, completely befuddled. It felt like something had gone right over her head.

The girl blinked, then smiled. "We're in the veil!"

Harriet paused, trying to think of a place called 'veil' before but nothing came to her addled mind. "Is that in America?" She tried, for it was the only country that came to mind. She shuddered and curled in, trying to preserve warmth.

The girl laughed. Instead of a tinkling gentle laugh that Daphne taught Harriet that only ladies could use, the girl practically guffawed. She held her sides as she bellowed out her laughter, and Harriet could only be bewildered. Her addled mind wasn't catching what she had said. Did Harriet say something funny? Finally, the girl calmed down, wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh, you're so precious. No, we're not in America." She said humorously, "we're in the veil. Do you know? Death's veil? The bridge between life and death itself?"

Harriet could only blink at that statement. Her heart thundered, and the pain seemed distant now. Or at least, was that her heart? Did her heart move anymore? "Am I dead?" Harriet asked in a small tiny voice. Slowly her mental facilities were opening back up. The trauma of the night hadn't settled in. And Harriet was choosing to ignore it. To push it all to one side. This was more important. Although everything ached and it felt that with one wrong move Harriet could fall into pieces.

"Oh, you're so silly!" The girl said, "no you're not dead, dummy! I mean, you did die. But also, you can't. " She laughed as if she said another joke. Then her face got very still, and her smile vanished. She stared off into the distance, her cheery voice going flat. "There is no paperwork when you die. Just a sweet, sweet abyss."

Then the girl took in a deep breath and her smile reappeared. Like she was ignoring the depressing thing she just said. She skipped over to Harriet's bedraggled form and held out a hand. "Hi! My name is Ignotus Peverell. But you can call me Iggy."

Harriet stared down at the hand offered to her. She reluctantly took it after prolonging it for a few uncomfortable seconds. Iggy didn't seem to mind. She beamed at Harriet, a wide toothy smile. There was a long pause. She didn't say anything. Neither did Harriet. The handshake didn't end. "I'm Harriet?" Harriet said, unsure what to do. But Iggy took that as her cue.

"That's great! I'm so happy to finally meet you. You're probably wondering why you're here! What is happening and why you're actually not dead!" Iggy said, pulling back from the handshake finally. She looked around at the wide train station and gave a frown. Harriet did the same thing and finally noticed the white see-through bodies. Where those… people? Getting on to the train?

"I don't think this place is suitable for a good conversation," Iggy said, she lifted up a finger and gave a snap. The scenery around then lost their shape in a sudden white fog. Harriet took in a deep breath of that cold air, as the pale shadows of darkness faded and reformed into a meeting room. A table that extended from one side of the room to the other, but in the middle sat two chairs facing each other. Iggy sat down and gestured for Harriet to do the same. It was still cold, but now it wasn't biting at Harriet. It warmed up enough to stop Harriet from diving into hypothermia.

'I have lost my mind,' Harriet thought. 'I must've been driven absolutely mad. I'm cracked.' And, with no other choice available, Harriet sat down in the other chair. She might as well go along with whatever trick her mind was making up. This was just… weird.

Iggy held out a binder and opened it up. There were a few items in there, a few leaflet pamphlets, a slim bound magazine, and a few other papers. "Well, with the niceties set aside, I ought to get cracking on my work," Iggy said, with less crazed enthusiasm. "I get carried away whenever I get to talk to people now. Most minions cower when I come near them. Others tend to just flee. They don't want to help with my paperwork. And Death only wants to throw me into a spiked pit most of the time, leaving all of the paperwork to just grow into piles." Her eyes twitched at that. "And then I just get backlogged. I'm sure that prolonging this has only made the problem worse."

Harriet just stayed quiet. And Iggy didn't seem to mind, as she then slid over a pamphlet to Harriet. The front was black and white, a scythe printed in the middle. At the top were the words, Congratulations! You are now a minion of Death! Harriet flipped it open. Inside was a bulleted list. Great opportunities! History books that reach back billions of years! Great work environment! One day off a year! Free Tacos on Tuesdays! And then in smaller letters underneath that, *Tuesdays do not exist in Death's realm.

"Sorry," Iggy apologized and shrugged, "we don't actually have a pamphlet for being the Master of Death. Officially, this is the first universe we've claimed. Every Master of Death is under the jurisdiction of the Office, and they just tend to let them run amok. The Mods are their problem. So officially we've never actually had to work with one of your kind before. But isn't that exciting? New stuff never happens anymore!"

Harriet mutely opened the pamphlet to the next page. There was a shadowy figure holding a giant scythe printed on it. Death has chosen you to do his bidding! No returns or refunds are allowed. You cannot run. You cannot hide. So don't even try! It's great fun working here! You made the deal with Death, and now you get to spend eternity working for him!

Iggy shuffled some papers, "I mean, it isn't like we don't associate with Masters of Death. We do. But mostly they just like to pop in every so often. And really, Master of Death is a false title that Fate, that bitch, made. They really aren't the master of anything, they just have a type of protection with Death. Immortality. A little boost of magical power. The gift of languages. That sort of thing. Nothing too big. Even a minor demigod has more power over them. But they like to run around a lot and wave wands." Iggy was talking, but Harriet was more interested in a stapled leaflet in front of her. "But then there's you! The actual Master of Death that works with Death. Isn't that cool? I bet things will be different with you around!" Harriet turned to the next page in the pamphlet.

The next page had a bunch of circles inside of each other, it covered the entire page of the rings. There was a red arrow that was pointed in the center of the circles, a tiny dot on the page. Above the arrow was the words, you are here. Underneath the diagram, it said billions and trillions of universes exist! Each and every one of them a slight copy of the other. But everybody dies. Every living thing tastes the touch of Death. And so all the souls get to come to us! Before recycling back into the aether and being reused in the future. Our job is to sort which souls go where and to document their deaths. Some lucky fellas are promoted to reapers! And they get to go and collect the souls that Death doesn't want to.

The next and final page was a picture of a human with their head cut off. Welcome to the team! "I think I have gone insane," Harriet said, looking up. She felt dazed.

"Oh that's great," Iggy replied, nonchalantly. "You'll fit right in." The little girl pulled out a few papers, and from a pocket, she grabbed a pair of glasses. She looked like an old man as she peered down her nose at the letters on the pages. "Okie dokie. Harriet, you have been such a terribly smart girl, haven't you? Making all of those very cool potions. They look so creative."

"You know about that?" Harriet had never told anybody, not even Neville, about her creations. She was startled.

Iggy gave her an indulgent smile, like Harriet was just a little child who didn't know anything. "Unlike the Office, we actually have written records of everybody's life. We know what you've done. It makes those who are religious get sorted easier in their respective afterlives." Iggy waved a few papers at Harriet, "I love the part where you tested unknown potions on innocent cats. Even if they were Miss Figgs. You might've gone to the bad place for that."

Harriet didn't even know how to respond to that, and Iggy didn't give her time to formulate one. "Anyways. Harriet, you've done what nobody has done before, and I wish I could give you a round of applause for it. You snubbed Fate."

"I did what?"

"Okay okay okay. So I need to tell you a small story first. Once upon a time, there were three brothers. They made a horrible deal with Death, but in return, they gained objects of power that no mortal has ever held. Then Fate wandered in, saw those objects, and since Death wasn't around, she made them intertwined with reality. Which then pissed Death off. Fate made it that whoever gained all three objects of power, they would become the Master of Death." Iggy held up her hand and pointed at Harriet, "that is you, by the way."

"But I didn't find those things." Harriet protested.

Iggy smiled, baring their teeth. "Exactly." She cackled. Harriet leaned away from the seven-year-old girl who suddenly looked rather creepy. Then Iggy returned to normal almost as quickly as the maniacal laughter had appeared. "That little ritual you completed opened up your magical pathways. It stores all of the magic you will ever use in your lifespan. Usually, people explode within the first twenty minutes." Iggy said casually as if she wasn't talking about Harriet's close touch with death. "But since you were under an incredible amount of magical core enchantments, which also included in your natural blood abilities such as being a metamorphmagus and your blood adoption parentage, the ritual had to break that apart first. Which leads to a rather long time suffering in agony, right? You survived a long time, which also means that your core dug deeper into your magical stores. And it turns out that you were fated to become the Master of Death! You gained that power. And by the rules that Fate made herself, those who have the power of being a Master can never die. And boom! You skirted around the rules."

Harriet's head spun. This whole thing was crazy. "But… but what if I didn't become the Master of Death? What if I decided not to collect the things?"

"Nah, you would have." Iggy shrugged. "It's Fate, remember? You know the saying, 'you can't change your fate?' She makes all of the universes. She knows who will make what decisions and what would come after that. It's destiny that you can change. But not Fate."

"That doesn't sound good."

"Yeah, Fate is a bitch. And boy, will she be mad about you. But it's awesome because since your universe isn't connected to the Office anymore, she can't touch you. Only Death can make changes to the universe's path now."

"What is the office?" Harriet asked.

"It's ruled by an idiot and Fate. They basically watch over all of the billions and trillions of universes out there and they make sure that things like this," Iggy gestured to her surroundings, "don't happen. It's basically where Fate get's her minions to do the paperwork for her side of the job. They monitor and make sure that nothing collides with each other."

"They sound scary," Harriet said.

"Ha! They're a bunch of noobs. But you don't have to worry about interacting with them until you're of age." Iggy shuffled more papers around, "which brings me to my next point. Death has put a small limit on you. Nothing too big. Or invasive as the previous bindings that you had before." She held up her hands to stop Harriet from protesting. "It's actually not that bad. You see, most Master of Deaths sort of have… lived a bit more than you have. They tend to gather the items when they are older. And then they are thrusted into their world. But you're still only eleven years old. And Death doesn't want to give you infinite power and destruction over everything." Iggy paused, then muttered under their breath, but Harriet could still hear it, "although he'd love to see it."

"Basically, you get to slowly grow into your powers." Iggy said continued at a normal volume, "you'll feel a bit different at first. Sensitivity to magic and you have an automatic immunity to mind-warping magic and poisons. In the beginning, anyways. This is what Death is giving to you now, but you'll slowly see a lot more changes as you grow older. Puberty is going to suck. You'll need to look out for those kinds of things. Because if you are not careful, you could probably kill everything in Scotland in a couple of years."

Power.

All Harriet had wanted throughout this entire thing was power. The strength to stop losing things around her. To stop people from hurting her. Harriet wanted to be strong. And to be herself. And it sounded like being the Master of Death was exactly that. But… something told her that this was all wrong. That this wasn't right. Harriet wasn't supposed to be the Master of Death, no matter what Fate said or did. Her life ambitions were to make amazing potions and to one day rub it into her teachers face. Maybe she could leave the Dursley's household and live on her own.

Her ambitions never pointed to being the Master of Death. It was just too much.

"I don't want to be it." Harriet said, stopping Iggy from talking, "I mean. This is nice and all. But… I don't want to be powerful. I don't want to work with Death. I don't want to be a master of anything. I just want to have a simple life. And this," she gestured around her, "this feels complicated. I'm going to have to decline. I'm sorry."

Iggy looked at Harriet. And closed the binder with a snap. "Harriet." She said, "you don't get to have a choice in this. You never did in the first place."

"But-"

"I didn't get to have a choice of being reincarnated into a little girl." Iggy said, and something in her tone made Harriet choke up. A terrible dark shadow appeared over Iggy's face, making her look older and less human. Harriet felt paralyzed and helpless. "I was ambushed during my monthly coffee break. I didn't have a choice when Death got all pouty that I never got to grow up. I didn't have a choice when he decided that I should stay in this form, instead of being a terrifying adult man." Iggy leaned in, darkness swirling in her eyes, her voice ringing with the sounds of a million dark secrets, "and I didn't get to have a choice when my elder brother killed me by accident. Sending me back to all this paperwork."

Iggy leaned back, and all of the shadows were gone. It was abrupt. She was back to her normal, ditzy child self. "But on the bright side," she said merrily, "I get to sneak into the water-cooler gossip I never had a chance to before! All of the minions were too scared to chat with me. But since I'm in a different form they haven't realized it yet," she giggled. "My pal, Jeffery? He's hilarious. You wouldn't believe the things he's done."

Harriet was certain of it now. Absolutely. She had gone bonkers. Mentally she had made this all up and she was still in the forbidden forest. Her aches and pains were now fading away, only becoming a minor feeling. Possibly due to the fact that she was in a freezer. This whole thing is a delusion. Nothing made sense anymore.

"I am mad," Harriet whispered to herself. "I've somehow broken myself." A sudden and unwanted thought came to her mind, just like your parents.

"Oh, that's great. Everybody tends to get a little nutty here in our department. It's probably because we are shunned by other facilities. Cuz, you know. Death probably broke in one too many times and stole something. Destiny won't ever let Death near her headquarters after he stole her crown and wore it to the War of Roses. The stains never came out." Iggy responded, but Harriet had suddenly gotten a terrible, awful, no good idea.

"Iggy?" Harriet paused, and the seven-year-old looked up. "If I am the Master of Death. Could I, erm. Heal people? Who isn't dead?"

"What kind of healing would you do?" Iggy responded. "Were they beheaded? Stabbed? Poisoned?" She leaned in as if she was gossiping about a cute boy. "Were they maimed?" She asked as if this was very important.

"I was thinking more along the lines of," it pained Harriet to say it, "erm, tortured to insanity?"

"Oh yeah. Totally." Iggy scoffed, "now if they were bitten by a basilisk that would be slightly concerning. But by the time you are of age, which by the laws of Death, is being nineteen years old, you can heal any mortal wounds. If they were nearly killed, then they can be considered under your power to restore. They touched a bit of death's realms before getting better."

Harriet's mouth was dry. And hope blossomed in her chest. Eight years. Actually, almost seven years and her mum and dad could be with her. She could heal them. They wouldn't have to be in Saint Mungos for the rest of their lives. No more white. No more graves. And… and Harriet could have her family back.

"So, uh. Could you tell me more? About being the Master of Death please?" Harriet felt like she had a new goal now. The ritual was a painful failure. But it also gave her immense opportunities. If all Harriet had to do was to be this all-powerful being, then she'd do it. Without hesitation.

Suddenly this wasn't too bad. And Harriet hoped it really wasn't just a crazy dream anymore.

"Why, I thought you'd never ask," Iggy replied, reopening the binder with a smile. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Birds sang.

That was the first thing that Harriet heard as she rose from slumber. The birds tweeted at each other, obnoxiously loud. It wasn't pleasant when all Harriet really wanted to do was just roll over and continue sleeping on. But those pesky flying chickens were annoying her into the land of the living. And slowly Harriet became aware of sensations. A deep dull throb that echoed through her body, each breath making her aches ping with agony. Everything from the top of her head down to her biggest toe was sore. Not the kind of sore that felt nice, after running for a while. But the kind that told her that if she made the wrong move her muscles would rebel and cramp up without any warning. It felt like her body was essentially trying to flip the bird at Harriet.

The second thing was the distant mutter of voices. Harriet didn't pay attention to that, because she was dumb enough to open her eyes. And shut them again. It was bright. It was too glaringly bright. And nobody had dimmed the lights. The yellow light shone through a window, falling onto the curtains that hung around Harriet's body. Harriet took in a deep breath as she could feel her mental facilities start to grasp at their tools and start working again. That was a mistake, as a deep breath made her lungs rebel and all of her breath left her in a whoosh as she choked in pain.

All Harriet could do was lie very still. And slowly those voices were becoming more interesting. She heard a small laugh. And somebody said, "ah, earwax."

"Now now, don't go feeding my patients with sugar." Came a familiar voice. Harriet took a second before she remembered a scowling woman in an apron. The name came soon after, Madam Pomfrey. "And you are disturbing the quiet. You are not the only people in here, you know."

"I must apologize." A wizened old voice said, "I am afraid I must take my leave." Harriet didn't like this person. Erm. Dumbledore. Yeah. That was his name.

"Okay. Thanks for coming by." This time, Harriet knew that voice easily. She was starting to really wake up now. It was Neville. She would have tried to shift upwards, to actually move, but a single breath caught in her throat and she deemed it too risky.

"Now you rest up, dear." Madam Pomfrey told Neville sternly. "You need to rest up before I let you out of my sight."

"Yes ma'am."

There wasn't any more talking. And Harriet slowly blinked her eyes open until they could withstand the wrath of the sunlight that burned them. It didn't take a genius to figure out where Harriet was, but it certainly felt like an epiphany to her when she realized she was in the infirmary. She had been in here dozens of times. She had to stay the night a few times after being drenched in potions. But there were a few things that she could pick out. This wasn't the usual bed that she slept in. And there was a vase of yellow sunflowers that was on the nightstand, along with a few cards propped up to stand. A stuffed animal, a badger, was next to them.

Harriet didn't have time to ponder on why she had these things next to her when the curtain was drawn back and Madam Pomfrey poked her head in. She saw Harriet awake and gasped, dropping the bottles that she held to the ground. "You're awake!"

And then things went south from there.

After being manhandled, forced to drink dozens of nasty tasting potions (but feeling slightly better afterward), and fussed over completely, Harriet was propped up on a few pillows and given a hot drink to hold. Not to drink, Madam Pomfrey warned her. But to simply hold. Her hands were cold. In fact, her entire body was slightly colder than normal. Much to the tutting of the medi-witch. Pomfrey had, apparently, tried to get Harriet warm. But try as she could, nothing would really work. And so a cup of hot tea was pressed into Harriet's fingers. It was the best remedy.

It felt burning hot.

The medi-witch was not idle. She moved faster than Harriet had ever seen her do so before, gathering items like blankets to smother Harriet with and to send out messages to those who needed to be notified. Harriet was still trying to recuperate her thoughts, and by the time she felt almost normal the adults had gathered. Sprout. And Dumbledore. And outside she could hear Hagrid in the background, although he was not invited to be in the room. His booming voice still traveled. He sounded worried.

"Harriet my dear," Sprout gushed, "I am so glad that you are awake." There were fresh tears in her eyes. "I was so worried."

"We were all so concerned." Dumbledore sat in a chair next to Harriet, while Sprout sat on the other side of the bed. Madam Pomfrey hung out in the background, giving the two adults glares, folding towels. She was not happy that Harriet was getting visitors when she ought to be monitored and resting. At least, that was what Harriet had heard her say to Dumbledore as he insisted on speaking with her.

"Harriet, I know this is so sudden and all. You went through a traumatizing event. But could you please tell us?" Dumbledore asked, "how you were found out in the woods?"

Madam Pomfrey coughed sharply in the background. Harriet could practically see the waves of anger coming off of the short woman. It was amazing. She must really hate how Dumbledore was talking to her.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, dearie." Sprout murmured quietly, "whatever you feel comfortable speaking about. In fact, you don't even have to talk. We could get you some writing tools instead." Sprout was looking around, trying to see if there was a quill lying around somewhere.

"I'm sure she can speak." Dumbledore gently said, and Harriet was mildly surprised by how idiotic that was. She didn't feel any ire right now. More like she couldn't, due to how exhausting it was to be awake right now. Pomfrey came a little closer. Harriet kept an eye on the medi-witch. The rage that came off of the small woman was becoming more powerful.

"Dumbledore, I've talked about this in our monthly meetings." Sprout turned away and quietly spoke to the headmaster, although Harriet could still hear it. "Harriet has had a hard time opening up to others. When she is comfortable to talk, she will. And we shouldn't pressure her. Not when she is feeling vulnerable."

"I agree." Dumbledore replied in a low voice, "but this is not a normal situation that we have at hand here. And I do not want to do this. I don't. But Harriet was hurt. By herself, or by somebody else. And I think it is best to understand what happened to her before she is sent home during the summer. If it is what we feared, she could hurt herself again without help or supervision."

Pomfrey was closer now. She had heard them too. The two professors were not trying to be quiet. Pomfrey held a towel in her hand. Glaring at the two professors. Watching them closely. If they made one more wrong move...

Sprout looked conflicted. She bit her lip. And gave Harriet a considering glance that spoke volumes. Harriet didn't understand it though. The secret adult conversation halted, as they turned their attention back to Harriet.

"Harriet…" Sprout hesitated for a few seconds. "Are you… have you been hurting yourself on purpose?"

"Okay, that is enough!" Pomfrey closed in like a hawk diving for a kill. "That is it. You two have asked enough insensitive questions for today. This is not an interrogation room." She whipped the towel around like a wand, it snapped in the air threateningly. "This is an infirmary. A place of healing. Not a detention center."

"But Poppy-" Dumbledore spoke right as Sprout started to cry loudly. A handkerchief pressed up against her face.

"So it's true! I've failed! I've failed to protect one of my seedlings." Professor Sprout bawled. She was an utter mess. Pomfrey took hold of one of Sprout's sleeves and started to guide her out of the curtained area. Dumbledore stood up, trying to protest the removal.

"Actually," Harriet spoke up, "I think I'm okay." The commotion instantly stopped. Sprout stopped sniffling, Dumbledore paused, and Pomfrey seemed a bit startled. They all stared at Harriet with bewilderment.

"What?" Sprout asked.

"I think I'm okay?" Harriet said again, this time much quieter. "I can answer questions. But... I don't think I know much." Harriet tilted one side of her mouth up in a hesitant smile. (Iggy had coached her into that look. "It makes you look innocent! You won't believe the gossip I hear because of this look! Go on! Try it!")

(Harriet really, really hoped that it all hadn't been a dream. Iggy was real. She had to be real. Harriet had to believe it was real. For her parents.)

"If she says she's okay with it," Dumbledore turned to Pomfrey who glared at him.

"Ten minutes, and no more." She hissed at him and went back to towel folding. Giving dark looks to the two adults.

Sprout and Dumbledore returned to their seats. Professor Sprout seemed completely shocked by Harriet, that she fell silent. Staring at Harriet, while occasionally sniffing and dabbing at her eyes.

"I hope you understand why we need to ask you these questions." Dumbledore said, "we care about you, Harriet. Every student in Hogwarts is precious. Could you please answer Professor Sprout's question?"

Harriet looked down at the steaming tea in her hands. "I don't hurt myself," Harriet mumbled out. It was fine to speak up earlier, but she could feel the pressure closing down her throat again. She felt as if there was a spotlight on her. Harriet felt shy by all the attention. This wasn't a one-on-one conversation with somebody she trusted. These were strangers. And enemies. Harriet had to tread carefully.

"Professor Snape told me that you are more likely to catch yourself on fire than any other student he has had in the past." Dumbledore continued, "and that he has taken you here several times this past year. That doesn't feel like a coincidence. Have you been purposefully trying to hurt yourself by letting potions burn you?"

Sprout sniffled at this, fresh tears falling down her face. This had all apparently been news to her. Sprout hadn't known how badly Harriet hurt herself on a weekly basis. And to Harriet's surprise, she felt a twinge of guilt about that.

"No. I haven't been burning myself on purpose." Harriet spoke. It was technically true. "I'm just," she felt her face heat up, "really bad at potions." She mumbled.

"I see. And now for the matter at hand," Dumbledore spoke, "why were you found in the woods?"

("See, Harriet, you are going to be in trouble." Iggy told her. "You technically did a highly illegal blood ritual at Hogwarts. And that isn't going to fly when the headmaster is technically in charge of the government."

"I did what now?" Harriet squeaked in alarm. "Why didn't anybody tell me that blood rituals were illegal?"

"Well, that is true. Nobody did tell you the rules." Iggy tapped her chin thoughtfully, "okay, here is what you are going to do. I bet Death destroyed a bit of it so that nobody could replicate what you did. We can only hope that he got the bits that had your blood on it. Your universe is pretty much a seven-part book series. I really shouldn't give you any hints for what is coming, but I can tell you about Quirrell. So tell them this lie-")

"I don't know," Harriet said. "I really, really don't know. The forbidden forest is, uh, forbidden?"

"Then can you tell us what you recall happening that night?" Sprout asked. "From the beginning?"

Harriet swallowed. "Okay." She bit her lip and fumbled with her fingers, unable to look up at the two adults who were looking at her. "That night I heard Neville was going to break the rules. I overheard him and Ron talking about sneaking out at night." She paused, "and I didn't want them to get into trouble. So I waited up for them and, uh, told them not to. They said there was something happening, and that Snape was involved. But I didn't want them to get hurt. And Hermione," Harriet fell silent. "She hit me with stupefy."

"Yes, she told us about that," Dumbledore said.

Harriet slowly nodded, "well, I was stuck on the floor for a bit. But not long after Neville and Hermione and Ron left, somebody else came by. It was Professor Quirrel. He was talking to himself. And he was jumpy, but that's normal. When he saw me, I heard somebody say that they could use me as leverage. I dunno who said that but Quirrel picked me up and he was taking me up to the third floor." Harriet fell silent.

("You need to act traumatized." Iggy told Harriet. "I mean, I know that you're the kind that silently suffers while looking off into the sunset. But you're a kid. And if you shed a few tears and maybe shake a bit then people won't go looking into what you're saying is true or not."

"I don't cry!" Harriet pouted.

Iggy kicked her. Harriet gave a shout and curled up on her injured knee. "Then sniff a little! Make your bottom lip wobble. Just don't act like a YouTuber who's making a fake apology video."

"A youtooger- what? What is that?" Harriet cringed on the ground, holding her knee.

"To be honest, I don't know. Youtubers are a class on their own." Iggy shrugged, "but just don't act it up too much. You got to do small things. Don't start shouting and wailing. Start hiccuping or, you know, shed a few tears?")

Harriet gave a little sniffle. She hunched her shoulders in and tried to look small. "He said he was going to kill me." She said in a small voice. "Once I was done being useful. Said I was a waste of space at Hogwarts. And- and that I was just so stupid."

"Oh, Harriet. That's awful." Sprout said, and she reached out to place a hand on Harriet's shoulder. "You are not a waste of space here. You're so precious to us."

Harriet silently nodded.

"How did you escape?" Dumbledore asked.

Harriet helplessly shrugged. "I don't know." Her voice turned into a higher pitch, "I was so scared. And I just wished really hard that I wasn't there. And that I wanted to be somewhere safe. And the next thing I know I felt like I was being squeezed and pushed super hard, like I was going through a tube, and then…" She gestured around her, "I'm waking up here. That's it. I didn't know I was in the forest at all." There was a beat. The Dumbeldore moved.

"I see. That clears up quite a lot of questions for me. Thank you, Harriet, I know this must have taken an incredible amount of strength to have this conversation." He stood up and turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Thank you for allowing us to be here."

"You're beginning to make this a habit." Pomfrey sniffed at him. And Sprout whispered a few touching words to Harriet before Dumbledore took her arm and led them away. The curtain closed behind them, and then they talked again. Still within hearing distance. Harriet frowned, they weren't trying to hide their conversation from her.

"Accidental magic?" Sprout said.

"It does sound like apparition." Dumbledore hummed, "but with the wards of Hogwarts, that would take a tremendous amount of magic."

"Her magical core is completely drained. And not to mention when we first got her, all of her ribs were cracked, along with her arms and legs. Her skull was nearly fractured as well." Pomfrey replied. "And the fact that there is now a burned hole in the forest where the centaurs found her, I would say that the wards did their best to fight against her. I am surprised that her core didn't crack."

"But why the forbidden forest?" Sprout asked in a trembling voice, "why would she consider that to be safe?"

"I do not think the forest was her destination in mind. We can only be grateful the only thing that was splinched off was her hair. I assume she was trying to get to Hagrid's home, but the wards stopped her from her destination." Dumbledore replied.

"Oh, that poor girl." Sprout said, "I cannot believe that it had been Quirrel. I was shocked to hear you say that he had been possessed. But to harm a student? And to experience that? She must have been terrified to have used her magical ability like that."

"Yes. It is by pure luck that magic reacted like that. Dangerous too, it could have burned her out. But it is better than the alternative." Dumbledore sighed, and then sounded weary. "This all happened underneath my nose. It is my fault. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Harriet were all injured. This should not have happened here in Hogwarts."

"How were you supposed to know that Quirrell was possessed? We've all worked with him for years, and yet none of us saw it." Pomfrey answered Dumbledore. "I do not think the fault lies with you. But you have to tell their parents about this, and their judgment is the thing that you should be worried about. Now, if you two will excuse me, I need to look after these children."

After that, the adults quickly departed. Harriet slumped in her nest of pillows, feeling exhausted. Her body ached. The numbed feeling of the veil had disappeared when she regained consciousness. But something inside of her rejoiced. "I don't think it was a dream," Harriet said to herself, staring at the white ceiling about her. Because if it was a dream, they would have called her out in her lies. Iggy had sworn up and down that it wasn't just a weird nightmare that Harriet had conjured up for herself. And by the fact that the adults had bought her story made it seem true.

Harriet closed her eyes and let herself drift off. Exhausted by what little she had done, but the hurdles she had leaped through were insane and that warranted a nap of victory.

The next time Harriet woke, she had a few minutes of quiet time to herself. It was nice. The golden light had shifted to dark orange and red, staining the curtains and the bedsheets that color as the sun began to set. Harriet sat up, tenderly. Her aches were becoming faint now. Her ribs still gave her a warning or two. And her headache was completely gone. With the exception of one shoulder, that seemed to still twinge with soreness, Harriet felt completely new. It was really amazing how much she recovered in so little amount of time.

Magic was pretty amazing.

She could remember months of feeling out of sorts after being hit. How sometimes her ankle still gave her a problem. Or when her cuts took forever to heal. This was one of the great things about being magical. It actually made Harriet want to know what kind of salves and potions that Pomfrey made her drink, and what their recipes were. If she could have a stash like that, then dealing with the Dursleys wouldn't be a problem.

The curtain slid open, and Harriet glanced up. Her hand was rubbing at the dense knot in her shoulder, trying to ease her muscles from her last ache. Pomfrey looked in and gave her a nod. "Are you up for visitors, sweetie?" She asked in a kind tone. "I have a few people who'd like to see how you're doing."

Harriet thought about it for a second and imagined what Sprout would think if she turned away the Herd, and decided to bite the bullet. She nodded, albeit reluctantly. Pomfrey gestured and opened the curtain wider for Goyle and Crabbe to come in. Harriet brightened immediately.

"You have fifteen minutes," Pomfrey warned, before letting the curtain slide shut and left.

"Hullo, Harriet," Crabbe said, coming over and sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a small box in his hands. He gave it to her, "don't tell the nurse." Harriet opened and saw a stack of chocolate frogs, all unopened. He gave her a shy smile, "maybe you can start your card collection?"

Harriet gave him a wobbly sort of smile. Goyle held a few other boxes, and clutched in one hand was a bunch of misshapen flowers. Daisies, sunflowers, black-eyed susans, and yellow tulips. They were made by transfiguration, but the common theme was the yellow and black flowers. He held them out to Harriet awkwardly, and she took them. She gave them a smell. They smelled like ink and feathers, probably because they were made out of quills. It still made her beam.

"Draco and the others couldn't come." Goyle grunted as he sat on the other side of the bed. "They are all studying their brains out. Test tomorrow."

"But we don't care." Crabbe said, "we already finished ours up. Took them all in one day, we did. Went to each teacher and asked to get it over with. Pretty sure we got at least acceptables. Or maybe one poor. Probably in transfiguration."

"Draco told us about how we can take 'em early." Goyle continued, "so we didn't have to worry about it later. We aren't really good at tests."

"But that means we get to visit you. Are," Crabbe paused, giving himself a moment to think. Then cautiously spoke, "are you okay?"

Harriet gave them a nod with a big grin. These two were just so nice and sweet. Goyle began to say something, but Harriet was distracted by the curtain gently moving. It stopped almost as soon as it started, but it wasn't the curtain that Pomfrey usually pulled back. It was the one leading to the other bed. But the ripples in the cloth were disappearing, and then Harriet turned her attention back to the two boys who came to visit her.

She didn't see how the curtain moved apart enough for somebody to see through it. And how it broke the silencing enchantment on the cloth.

"-and potions class wasn't the same without you. Nobody blew up a cauldron. It was very uneventful." Goyle concluded his version of the past few days without Harriet in class. "Draco seemed put out. But Professor Snape didn't let him stew in it. Made him clean out the cupboards."

"Oh, he found a jar that was supposed to be worm skin. It had rotted." Crabbe chimed in, happily.

The two boys scrunched their faces up in disgust, mirroring what Draco must've done. Harriet laughed. She could easily see Draco being upset by handling something gross. "But it wasn't until he found a bottle that had a crack on it and spilled it's contents everywhere that he started to complain. Turns out the bottle had pig intestines in it." Goyle grunted.

"I think he might want you back in class so he doesn't have to do it again." Crabbe said, "but classes are almost done now. I don't think you'd be let in them until the nurse lets you go."

"Yeah, the classes go till tomorrow. Then we go home in four days."

Harriet had to blink. It felt like yesterday she had been yearning to go to Hogwarts. And suddenly, in four days she'll be back at the Dursleys. Dudley's second bedroom was a distant memory. And all too soon, she'd be back to the one place she hated above all else. What a strange thought.

It felt unconcerning now. She had been so wrapped up in it. How she hated the idea of going back. But now, it wasn't a big deal. Probably because Harriet had other things to think about. Maybe the emotion would hit her in a few hours when she felt more like herself. As of right now, she didn't want to think about depressing things. Instead, she shoved it all aside and focused on her two friends.

"Oh, these are from the others." Goyle apparently remembered the other packages in his hand. He gave them to Harriet. She picked one up, the smaller of the two, and opened it. The container was sleek and well made, an expensive gift from the quality. The small box had a simple note laying on top of a small clear glass ball. It looked like a marble, but big enough to be a golf ball. Harriet opened the note first.

I'm glad you're alright. I'm sorry for pressuring you. Was all that it said. No initials, no clue for who could have sent it. But Harriet guessed who it was. The impressive penmanship said it all. It was the curling flourishes that gave it away.

"That's from Greengrass," Crabbe said, leaning in. "Huh, she got you a remembrall. I used to have one of them. But I forgot it somewhere."

"It turns red if you're forgetting something." Goyle helpfully added. Harriet picked it up. It didn't change color, which was good. "Bad thing is, you don't know what you've forgotten." Honestly, Harriet could see that happening quite easily.

Harriet put it back into the box, along with the note. And smiled. She didn't know what to feel when it came to Daphne. But she apologized. And that was important. They should probably sit down at one point and figure things out. But it was a relief to know that Daphne wasn't mad at her anymore. Harriet had felt incredibly bad for yelling at her.

"That one is from Draco. You should've seen him when he found out you were in the infirmary." Crabbe said. "He was horrified-"

"Shut up." Goyle shoved him, and Crabbe fell off the bed. Harriet picked up the bigger and heavier package and opened up the twine that held it together. A thick envelope fell out, and Harriet felt the weight inside. When she peered in, she saw there were nearly a dozen pages, neatly folded and each of them covered in Draco's handwriting. It was almost a book. When she pulled it out, she was surprised to see how much was actually written.

Dear Harriet,

You would not believe the insensitive things happening around in the castle. People have gone mad! Not only with school work, but with their dimwitted imagination. Rumors were circulated around the reasons why you were found out in the woods, but do not fear. I was able to put a stop to them. Although, it was awful to hear that you were injured. I came to the infirmary not once, but thrice! And each time Madam Pomfrey told me to go away. How annoying! My father would not have put up with it. I wanted to come and see you, to check up on your well being. However, when Dumbledore announced that you were doing much better and were allowing visitors, I was in the midst of getting ready for my final test. I will be up shortly to converse with you. But until then, I have written this letter in the hopes you will understand my absence and I wish you a fast recovery.

Anyways, you will not believe what Parkinson has been doing lately-

Harriet put the letter down with a grin. Oh, Draco. She would finish the letter another time, so that way Crabbe and Goyle didn't feel left out.

"Well?" Crabbe said from the floor. "What is in the package?" He tried to lean in to peer into the brown paper packaging.

Harriet opened up the rest of it and saw it was a pewter cauldron. Harriet covered her mouth with a hand, trying to keep her amusement at bay.

"That's a crummy thing to get someone." Crabbe pouted.

"Maybe it's cuz Harriet's running out of them?" Goyle responded, a bit confused. "I mean, she is using a lot of them."

Harriet couldn't hold it in and laughed.

Later, after Crabbe and Goyle had been ushered out by an irate Pomfrey, after Harriet had been forced to drink yet more potions and tinctures, after dinner that Harriet wolfed down with gusto, surprising herself with how hungry she was, and after Harriet had been told to, "get some sleep. Your magical core will not recover until your body does," by Madam Pomfrey.

The curtain moved back again. This time it didn't pause until Neville's disheveled face appeared. He seemed a bit pale and tired, but he was also wearing the same exact pajamas that Harriet was. The infirmary fashion was apparently a trend now.

"Harriet?" Neville took a deep breath, "could I talk to you for a mo? I'm sorry, I tried earlier but you had your, uh, friends over. I didn't hear them until I moved the curtains. They're spelled to let no sound through them. Is it okay if I come in though?" He looked nervous, shuffling his feet and looking down at his fluttering hands.

She blinked up at him, almost nearly asleep. Her reply was to sit up and nod. Rubbing her face to stimulate her brain into forcing herself to be awake. Her body was tired. Getting better, absolutely. But tired nonetheless. Recovering from something sucked.

Neville came in and sat in one of the chairs next to her bed. "I know you don't really want to talk to me. I completely understand." He fumbled for words, and Harriet could tell easily that he really didn't know what to say. He was flying by the seat of his pants. "But I wanted to apologize. About everything, really. I'm a really crummy friend. And I know that you don't even think I am your friend anymore. And I am sorry. About our conversation, I should have really stopped to think about what to say after you told me that Malfoy was your friend. I mean," he paused, "I think if somebody came up to me and told me that Hermione was a mean person, and to stay away from her, I'd tell them to shove off. And you did."

"I'm sorry. Sometimes I get really caught up in stuff. Like Quidditch, and the mystery of the philosopher's stone. I am a bad friend because you were right. I did ignore you for months before we had our fight. And that wasn't fair to you. You deserve to spend time with people who give you the time of day, like Malfoy and his, erm, friends." Neville was getting increasingly agitated as he went on. Like he couldn't find the right words to say what he felt. "You should have a friend that goes out into the woods and looks for the six-leaved pixie moss instead of yelling at you for who you talk to. And, I don't know how to say this, but I am really sorry. For leaving you behind in the dust. You deserve to have better friends than I was to you, Harriet. You're a really good person." He gave a pause as he took in a breath, and looked at Harriet for the first time since sitting down. "I should go."

"Neville, wait." Harriet hoarsely whispered, stopping Neville from retreating. She reached down to her bag, the only thing that survived the night of the ritual because she was wearing it. She rummaged around a bit, tossing old bits of roses out as she came to them until she found the one thing she was looking for. It was a thick large envelope. With Neville's name written on it. She held it out to him. "I know this is a bit late," she said in a small voice, the only kind that she could manage at the moment. "But Merry Christmas."

Neville took it, studying it. He opened it up and withdrew a small handmade paper packet. No bigger than three fingers wide. He shook it, and it gave a small rattle as the things inside of it bounced around. "Are these," he said as his eyebrows furrowed as he thought, "seeds?"

"Yeah." Harriet said, "I've been saving up the seeds of the plants we've worked with in herbology. And I figured they would be a great gift with somebody that had a green thumb. They're all labeled." She omitted the part where she was hoping to use them for future experiments. She had a lot of everything nowadays. Magical, or nonmagical, ingredients. Which was saying something, since she used to have practically nothing to work with before.

"That's… amazing." Neville breathed out, looking in the envelope to see the dozens of little packets that Harriet had made. "I bet there are a few seeds in here that I wouldn't be able to find anywhere else." He sat back down and looked at Harriet with a gleaming look that spoke of excitement. It died a bit, as he mournfully gazed at Harriet. "I really am sorry, you know."

"I know." Harriet replied, "but you've apologized. And I have accepted it. You saw what you did wrong. Just don't do it again. Okay?" She held out her hand with a shaky grin.

Neville gave her a shy smile before clasping it with his own. "Okay. I promise. I'll be a better friend."

"Now, I only got the tail end of the bit. Why was the philosopher's stone in Hogwarts? And was Snape really after it?" Harriet asked, and let Neville launch into the heroic story of how he saved the day.

Harriet thought he was rather good at that. Neville being a hero. It was like it was meant to be.

He told her about Fluffy (a Cerberus. Here? If only she got some of its saliva. What a wasted opportunity), about how Snape was injured. How the troll was a distraction. How he nearly fell off the broom at the match, and Hermione lighting Snape on fire. (Harriet actually guffawed at that, she wanted to see that!) How they figured out through clues who Nicholas Flamel was, and what was hidden in Hogwarts. How they unraveled the truth and figured that Snape was going to steal the stone when Dumbledore was called away that day. Neville told her how they tried to talk to the teachers, but nobody would listen to them. So that night, when Hermione had bespelled Harriet, they were going to stop Snape from gaining immortality. Neville went into detail about all the tasks they had to go through, the devils snare, the flying keys, the chessboard, the troll, and finally, the riddle. He spoke of Ron's bravery and Hermione's intellect. And then, finally, the confrontation of Quirrell.

Harriet had known it was going to happen. Iggy had told her. But it was still a surprise to know what happened. Harriet had known, and it was a moment of conflict inside of her. The thrill of the realization that Iggy was really real. Even though Harriet had been able to lie to the adults well enough for them to not question it. (There was a glaring gap inside of Harriet's alibi. Quirrell was already at the mirror when the kids were following him. Hopefully, nobody saw that, or noticed it.) But the actual confirmation that Harriet had also not dreamt it up was relieving. The hope for her parents was real now. But Harriet saw how pale Neville was. How he jumped at different sounds. How he looked at his hands with horror. And knew that Neville was hurt. Physically he was fine, but killing a man with your hands would take a toll. And Neville was a kind soul. He was so nice and polite, and never wanted to hurt a pixie. He was the true traumatized kid here, instead of Harriet's poorly performed acting.

Harriet watched Neville stutter out the last of his tale, talking about how he gained the stone from the mirror of false desires. And Quirrell's death, and of the knowledge that Voldemort still lived.

(Harriet didn't know. She hadn't known anything about the Dark Lord, Voldemort. She hadn't known that Neville had killed him when he was a baby. Although, she guessed that Voldemort didn't actually die. Harriet had to ask and watch Neville's face change as he realized she didn't know anything. He summed it up fairly quickly, "my parents were murdered by him, and when he tried to kill me it also destroyed him. I'm well known for it." He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. Harriet had a sneaky suspicion that it actually was a big deal.)

At this point, Harriet had moved over on the bed and Neville laid down next to her. He was talking, no, venting about the whole thing. The words spilled from his mouth, and finally, he ended the tale with what Dumbledore had said that morning. The philosopher's stone was destroyed, leaving Nicholas Flamel and his wife to die.

Harriet stiffened. The entire time Neville was talking, she was sucked into the tale. She could see how everything happened. The seemingly insurmountable tasks that loomed above the Gryffindor's heads. Harriet truly believed everything that Neville said, she didn't once take a second to really think about it all. That is, until Dumbledore. Harriet knew who he was. She knew Dumbledore was actually evil, greedy, and terrible all rolled into one. He liked to weave lies that wrapped around you, controlling you like a puppet. And it was only because Harriet knew that for a fact, that she was able to even question Neville's story.

"Hang on a mo," Harriet whispered. They had been trying to keep quiet just in case Pomfrey caught them. "So you're saying, and I am not criticizing you I'm simply asking this, that Dumbledore guarded an object with immense power by the things that we learned about this year?" Harriet sat up, looking at Neville. "Because we learned about the devil's snare in herbology, chess is a popular wizard game, we were taught how to fly, we also did have a lesson about trolls after Halloween, and you happened to find the mirror? Was the door locked when you found it? Was any door locked at all? What was Dumbledore thinking?"

Neville was speechless. "I… wait we didn't learn about Fluffy?"

Harriet snorted, "but you did figure out how to make him sleep from Hagrid. And Dumbledore knows that you two talk all the time. Did you even ask Hagrid for details or did he just say it randomly?"

Neville shifted around uncomfortably, "I can't remember."

Harriet let herself drop onto the bed with a bounce. "Unbelievable." She said, shaking her head. "That's the stuff you learn in your first year at Hogwarts. How did he think that would keep a teacher out? Or better yet, an older student?"

"The third floor was forbidden." Neville pointed out, "Filch prowled it constantly."

"Was Filch there that night?" Harriet asked.

Neville fell silent. That was the answer that Harriet needed. She sighed and knew she had to walk carefully here. Everybody admired Dumbledore. Especially the Gryffindors. It was like he was the second coming of Merlin. They said that Dumbledore was the greatest wizard ever alive. And Harriet could certainly disagree with that, along with nearly every Slytherin. But it was practically heresy to talk bad about him.

"Neville?" Harriet asked, breaking the silence between them. "I don't think what Dumbledore did was a good thing. He said he was guarding his best friend's only way of surviving. And when it was nearly taken, instead of putting it where it can be safe, he destroys it?"

"Everybody makes mistakes." Neville protested. "Even Dumbledore can."

Harriet didn't want to be blunt and say, his mistake killed two people and made you kill another person yourself, and instead she curled up next to Neville and whispered, "just be careful around him, okay? As you said, everybody makes a mistake. You shouldn't just take his word for gospel. You should get a second opinion, so maybe ask Professor Sprout? She's nice and she listens. A bit emotional, but nice."

Neville was silent, and Harriet was nearly asleep when he spoke up. "Yeah. You're right. This whole thing could have been avoided. But I am glad that it didn't turn out bad. It won't happen again."

Harriet passed out, and Neville slipped into his own bed a few feet away from her. His thoughts churning, Neville didn't sleep a wink that night.

The next morning, Harriet was given a chance to shower and she took it. She felt nearly a hundred percent better. It was like she was good as new as if a horrific and terrifying thing such as nearly dying didn't happen. Madam Pomfrey told her very sternly that she wasn't allowed to do any magic until the next school year, due to the severe strain on her magical core. Her wand was confiscated by the nurse until September. The professors already gave her a pass in most of their classes, because Harriet couldn't use her magic until the next year. The testing would happen the next day with a good-old-fashioned written test. Joy.

Harriet grabbed the clean clothes and scuttled into the bathroom to take her shower. Ready to finally be away from fussy people. Especially Madam Pomfrey, who fretted over her like a hawk-eyed mother. But even as she hobbled away, Harriet could feel the twinge of one pain still affecting her. Her shoulder still hurt. Did she bang it up very badly? After so many potions and salves, Harriet should be back to normal. Was this one wound that would never heal properly, even with magic?

When Harriet undressed she looked for any signs of bruising, and she found the mark. Harriet stared at it in the mirror. Completely astonished. For there, on the back of her shoulder, was a tattoo! It was so strange. Her first thought was, 'how am I going to tell Aunt Petunia I have a tattoo?' And then the second thought was, 'I don't tell her I have a tattoo. Ever.'

It was simple in design. A triangle. A circle inside of it. And a vertical line bisecting the two. Strange.

Harriet chalked it up to magic and left it at that.

The train ride home was faster than the ride to Hogwarts. Perhaps it was because Harriet had wanted to go to Hogwarts more than anything she had ever wanted. Maybe it was because she had also been trapped in a compartment with Hermione. Or it could have been because Harriet did not want to go back to the Dursleys. She had spent so much time at Privet Drive. Her whole life. And the last ten months living at Hogwarts had lifted her up and tossed her down so many times that it hurt to think about. But it was full of wonder. And magic. A little bit of joy and freedom. Even if it meant dealing with Snape. (He had given her a long look at her written test, scouring it with his intense attention. Harriet had waited for him to let her leave, but he took his time looking at her answers, and finally, finally, he looked down at her and said, "acceptable, Miss Potter. But barely. It seems you do better with books than with instruction." Harriet had purposefully made sure she got at least twelve questions wrong, enough to pass with a high score. But he was still such an asshole.)

Ten months living at Hogwarts. Ten months living in a world of color and magic and potions, where Harriet was free to live and do what she wanted. And suddenly, the idea of returning to the cold house where nothing was acceptable, and nobody cared for her, was completely absurd. Harriet could picture every tiny bit of the house from perfect memory. It was gray and colorless. No happiness. Nothing to even snub her nose at. It was just a prison.

One that Harriet had to go to. Maybe that was the reason why the train ride seemed so much faster this time. Or the parting words that Madam Pomfrey had told her. Saying, "because of your bout of accidental magic, and how it completely drained you of your core, we will need your guardians to pick you up from the train station. They have been informed of this already, and you will need to wait for them to pick you up. They already know of your vulnerable state, and how you are unable to use your magic, and the ban from using it during the summer. Of course, every student is warned not to, due to the magical trace. But I know some adults allow it. For your health and safety, you should not use any until you come back next fall." She gave Harriet a stink eye as if Harriet's horrified face was a protest to her words. "Any medical professional would do the same thing. Don't you try to sneak your way past this." That was that, and Harriet could not get out of the severe punishment that was sure to come. The moment the owl arrived at her aunt's and uncle's house she would be in a world of misery.

Somehow, going home to the Dursleys turned out to be less of an annoyance. And more into a death sentence. And now they knew that Harriet was injured and vulnerable, unable to use magic, and thus, free to pick on all they wanted. Not even threatening Dudley with a pig tail or zombies would help her now. Her plans on a hopefully peaceful summer vacation were abruptly cut off even before Harriet had stepped out of Hogwarts. Harriet was in a horrifying loop for a few days, unable to get the terrifying thoughts to leave her head. What would Uncle Vernon do now that he knew she couldn't do anything? The stress was getting to her.

But there was one thing that broke through her spiraling thoughts. Hagrid, dear old sweet Hagrid, handed her a gift as she got onto the train. It was a thick book, filled with pages of photos. Her parents when they were young. The photos showed what they looked like when they grew up. When they got married. Every moment was photographed, and every picture Harriet gazed down at she saw her mum and dad like they were before. Her mom tilted her head back and laughed. Her dad poked her teasingly. There was even a picture of them when her mom was pregnant with Harriet. James tenderly holds Lily close, kissing her forehead.

Maybe that was the reason why the train moved faster as well. Harriet gazed at each photograph longingly, studying each one with the intent to memorize them. Watching her parents move. They had blood running through their veins, breath in their lungs, and laughter in their hearts. They were people. Wasn't that strange? Harriet hadn't actually thought that they had personality and passions. It was amazing to see what she could pick apart in those pictures. She knew her mother liked to tuck her hair behind her ear. Her dad had dark brown hair, not black. He ran his hand through it a lot, messing it up and it fell into his eyes. Harriet had never seen her dad with hair before. And she laughed to herself as she realized that she really did have her dad's hair.

(Unknowingly, Harriet's hair grew darker. The red fading out, strand by strand. Until only dark brown remained. Her hair, still hacked off and uneven, which she refused to fix because Harriet quickly found out that shorter hair meant less work, fell around her face in waves. No longer did Harriet look like Lily Evans. For there was a piece of James Potter in there too. Nobody saw, of course. For everybody was off doing their own thing. And Harriet managed to use a bit of her thaw-me-not potion to stick the door closed so that nobody would be around her. She wanted to spend time alone while looking through the photo album.)

The train arrived soon enough. Harriet's doom had begun. The children streamed out of the train like a tidal wave, each of them gathering their trunks and heading home for the holidays. A band of redheads stood, and two sulking older boys joined them, along with one annoyingly bratty younger brother. They went home, but not before the two identical brothers handed their younger sister a charred toilet seat triumphantly. Their mother did not notice until they got home, and promptly yelled the roof off their house.

Harriet cracked the thin barrier of ice and gathered her things once the rush of people left. She knew the Dursleys, and if they were summoned to come and get her then they would take their sweet time. Unless it was something important, like a dinner date with a boss, they were often late to almost everything. So that meant she didn't have to rush. Harriet gathered her large bulky trunk and sat down on a bench and waited. She watched the crowd slowly drift away. The rush of students was nearly gone now. One or two families stayed, talking or chatting with their children before moving onwards. Harriet kicked her legs out, waiting for the moment that her aunt or uncle came in and shouted at her for a bit, then dragged her off to her prison. It was the last few moments of freedom that she was going to get.

Her fingers instinctively touched her jacket. Where her mother's trunk, and where the majority of Harriet's things were, laid in her pocket. She had asked the house elves for a stash of food and water, and they had given her plenty to live off of. But the last few days Harriet had consumed food as if it was going out of style. She inhaled it like a vacuum cleaner. She had never eaten so much before, and yet Harriet felt like she was going to starve if she didn't eat lunch in between breakfast and dinner. It was probably one of those things that Iggy said that was going to change around her.

There were a lot of things that Harriet had to prepare for. Iggy said a lot of worrisome things. Like growing a third eye. Or maybe demon horns. But then again, Iggy said a lot of things and Harriet didn't believe them half of the time. Like how Harriet might govern the world. And since her magical core was drained, a lot of those differences weren't going to be apparent soon. Once her body went back to normal, things would soon be different. Harriet really hoped she wasn't going to get a third eye, demon horns, or the urge to conquer the world though. She already had a problem with her hair, thank you very much, she didn't need anything else to bother her.

Somebody dropped their trunk with a thump and sat down next to Harriet. She glanced up from where she had been staring at the wall in a mindless daze. Goyle stretched in the seat next to her. He then gave her a judgemental look, "you changed your hair." He gruffly spoke. Out of the two of them, Goyle talked a lot less than Crabbe. He liked short, blunt, sentences.

Harriet slowly nodded. Yes, her hair was cut. It wasn't long anymore. And honestly, she didn't care at the moment if it was neat or not. It definitely wasn't even anymore. Daphne would certainly have a conniption if she saw the state of Harriet's hair.

Goyle grunted, kicking his legs up onto his trunk. "I would've sat down next to you sooner if I had known." He was pouting. By now it had been nearly forty minutes since the train came into the station, and it was completely dead. Nobody was at the station. A few bits of parchment littered the ground, and yet Harriet didn't see anybody coming for Goyle. He must be waiting for his parents as well.

Harriet gave him a smile, then with a brilliant idea, pulled out the chocolate frog trading cards that she had gotten. The chocolate frogs had been gifted to the house elves, who were happy for the gifts. A few Harriet ate as well, away from the all-seeing eyes of Pomfrey. Goyle brightened when he saw them and picked through them. "You have Morgana." He pulled one out of a black-haired and red-eyed witch. She scowled at Goyle from inside the card. "I'll trade it for an Ulfric the Weird."

Harriet held out her hand and they shook on it. She didn't really care for her collection. But it was something to do with Crabbe and Goyle. They spent a long time bent over the cards. They really liked to collect them. It was probably the number one subject the two boys talked about. Or maybe that was food. Either or, they loved the cards and the chocolate, making it the perfect game for them. Harriet liked to be included and started her collection as well.

And then when the cards got boring, Goyle, no, Greg told her in halting words about the House Cup had gone. (She had spent all year calling Crabbe and Goyle by their last names. It was time to call them by their first names, Vincent and Gregory.) Harriet missed pretty much everything at the end. She was still locked up like a princess in a tower at the time, except it was the infirmary and the dragon was Pomfrey. The drama and the gossip that happened at the end of year feast were still running rampant. Turns out that Dumbledore awarded points to both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff so that they came in first and second place due to Neville's adventures and Harriet's injuries. Greg was very bitter that Slytherin came in third, even though they were in first place.

If Harriet cared about the house cup, she could have been mad too. Slytherins loved to collect points as much as possible. She gave him a consoling pat on the back, sympathizing. Greg then told her that Slytherin went into the kitchens and made their own feast. They all knew they had won. And so they were going to celebrate it themselves. He spared no detail from the delicious desserts and ice cream that he had that night. Greg was getting into detail about how Draco had chugged a whole butterbeer himself when Uncle Vernon came through the gate.

Harriet spotted him instantly. His face was red and she could see that he was working himself up. He was in a bad mood. A very bad mood. It was now nearly two hours after the train had settled in. And he looked like he was ready to kill another Major Louis. He spotted Harriet not long after she saw him. The content feeling Harriet felt suddenly sank as she remembered what summer was going to be like. Harriet hurried, wanting to get as much distance as she could between Greg and Uncle Vernon. She waved goodbye to Greg and hurried over to him as fast as she could with her heavy trunk. Thankfully there might be a pillar or two to obscure the scene from Greg. He won't see. It wasn't going to be pretty.

"You." He barrelled up to her, his face red and his mouth spitting with saliva and words. "You little freak. How dare you make me come into your world. I've been waiting for you to come out for twenty minutes. And what have you done with your hair? I won't have your freakishness in my house. As soon as you're home it's getting cut off. No excuses. I won't have your damned cult powers anywhere near my family."

"Uncle Vernon-" Harriet protested, but he didn't hesitate to retaliate. Smack. A flash of light exploded in her vision. Harriet was knocked back, and she was on the ground. She had forgotten, she thought idly, how he literally didn't pull back his punches. She could already feel her eye getting puffy and sore. Great. A black eye already. This summer vacation was going great already.

"Hey!" She heard Greg shout from behind her, and suddenly Harriet's stomach fell into a pit. Her heart choked up and she felt icy cold dread slip down her back. Greg had seen. Goyle had seen. He wouldn't want to be her friend anymore. He'd pressure her like Daphne. He'd- he'd- he had seen. "You leave her alone!" Her friend shouted as he ran up.

"It's none of your business, boy," Uncle Vernon spat like a hissing cat. But Greg didn't hesitate to draw his wand and point it at Vernon. Her uncle paled and drew back. Clearly remembering Hagrid and his warnings. And Dudley's piggy bottom.

Harriet stumbled to her feet, her arms held up at Greg. Her hair falling into her face. What could she say? What should she say? The only thing that spilled out of her mouth was, "it's okay." She spoke in distress. Her voice cracked. "It's okay. Nothing wrong. It was just an accident. Nothing is wrong."

Greg hesitated. His eyes flicking back and forth from his friend to the whale of the man who had hit her seconds ago. "No, it isn't." But he sounded unsure. He wanted to believe her. Harriet wanted to believe her words too. But he doubted her.

"I know if you cast a thing on me, you'll be tried and thrown into whatever miserable jail your lot has." Uncle Vernon sputtered, "and I will sue! Mark my words!"

"Greg it's okay." That was the only thing that Harriet could say. It wasn't okay. But Greg could get into trouble. It was against the law to cast any spells since they left Hogwarts. He shouldn't get in trouble because of Uncle Vernon. It wasn't worth it. Greg had more value than Vernon had any day. And Harriet didn't want him to get into trouble on her behalf. What would Draco and Vincent do if Greg was expelled because of her? They would hate her! Harriet couldn't handle another heartbreak. "It's okay, really. It was just an accident. My uncle didn't mean to. I just tripped." Her swelling eye protested that idea. But Greg didn't notice it. And reluctantly, Gregory put his wand down.

"Come on then," Uncle Vernon grabbed Harriet and pulled her away. His knuckles were white as he gripped her, his touch punishing. "I've spent enough time here." Harriet grabbed her trunk and was pulled through the platform nine and three-quarters doorway. She glanced in time to see Greg staring at her, frowning as if he had come across a problem he had never seen before.

She hoped desperately that he wouldn't end their friendship because of this. She didn't want this moment to change anything.

Number 4 Privet Drive was just as she remembered. Harriet walked into the house. She was perhaps a head taller than the last time she was here. There was the stain in the white carpet from when Vernon had knocked over the bucket of gross water. The holes on the door were still there from when he had nailed the letter flap shut. The windows let in light, but no color. It was black and white, seemingly drained of all the happiness and joy in the entire world. Aunt Petunia loomed in the shadows, staring down at Harriet darkly, a pinched look on her face. Dudley would be home in a few days from his own boarding school. And it was just the two adults with Harriet, both of them giving her dark promising looks.

This wasn't going to be good.

Uncle Vernon took Harriet's trunk and locked it under the stairs. The three padlocks on the door were still there. A remnant of the time from when Harriet had once lived there. Aunt Petunia gave Harriet enough time to clean the dishes before she was dragged up to Dudley's second bedroom. And there were a few changes to the house that Harriet had never seen before.

A catflap. Three different locks on the door. And once Harriet was shoved inside, and the door slammed behind her, she also saw the bars on the window. The room had clearly been untouched since she had left. Aunt Petunia didn't want to clean it. Even with the newly installed shiny bars. There was a thick film of dust on everything. Harriet looked around the room. She missed her little cozy room in Hogwarts. Even the insufferable Herd chasing after her couldn't dim how much at home she felt being there. It was loads better than being here. She missed her room. She missed the changing window, where it looked out into a raining forest. She missed the desk that was stained from so much ink. Because there, it was home.

Here, it was a prison.

Harriet let out a great sigh and sat down on the bed. Thankfully, the house elves said they would take care of Hedwig for her. Harriet doubted that the Dursley's would allow her to set up a terrarium to house her toad, let alone let her change the water every few days. Hedwig was safe. And Harriet just needed to survive a couple of months until her second year of Hogwarts started.

It was rather sad, to long to go back to school. Most kids would hate to go back. They liked to go on vacation. But that wasn't how life worked for Harriet. She fell back onto the dusty sheets of the bed and coughed from the musty air that rose up to greet her face. Harriet heard something crinkle underneath her, which was unusual. Unless something weird had dried on the worn-out sheets, creating a rather nasty mess. Or maybe the bedsheets were so dirty they had petrified themselves. She got up and stared at the bed. Did she hide something underneath there? Harriet pulled the mattress up from the springs underneath and saw the slip an envelope. She reached in and pulled it out, recognizing it almost instantly.

It was the one Hogwarts letter she had saved for herself. It had been one of the first few letters she had gotten. Prior Major Louis. And before the Dursleys had vacated the premises and taken her to a rock in the middle of nowhere. And there, written in green ink was the words, Miss. H. Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

It was strange to think that this letter had pulled her from this drab little house that was a prison underneath, to a magical land where Harriet learned so much. She flipped it to the other side to the wax seal that was pressed onto the back of it. The Hogwarts crest was pressed into the red wax, and it drew a wave of longing emotions that Harriet wasn't prepared for. Absently, Harriet sat onto the bed as she tucked her fingers into the envelope and ripped the paper open. Once she had torn the poor paper, Harriet reached inside and found something odd.

The Hogwarts Letter envelope was empty.

fin.