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Chapter Text

Tom Riddle was feeling very pleased with himself as he walked out of the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. He had created a horcrux before even graduating Hogwarts, and it was sure to have only been the first of many. He turned and hissed a command to the entrance to the tunnel and it began to close. Then he let out a small shriek and stumbled backwards when he saw a tall man in expensive muggle clothes in an open stall where he most certainly hadn’t been a moment ago.

    “Who the hell are you?” Tom spat, not having quite regained his composure.

    “You can call me Mr. Mendelson, Tom. Now, you just created a horcrux, yes?”

    “Yes.” Tom found himself answering. He hadn’t meant to say that! Had this man somehow slipped past his occlumency shields? “What are you doing here?”

    “Well, I’m here to warn you, Tom. See, there are many forces that influence our world, and not all of these are so benevolent and malleable as your Lady Magic. In fact, very few of them are. One of these forces is called Terminus. And Terminus hates horcruxes, Tom. Now I know you’re not going to destroy the one you just made, but really, for the good of everyone, not least yourself, please don’t do something stupid like try to make any more.”

    “You can’t tell me what to do!” Tom sneered as he shot a bone-breaking curse at the old man, which passed right through him and slammed into the chipped tiles behind him.

    “I’m not actually here, Tom. I’m in my office back in London. I’m just telling your eyes what to see and your ears what to hear. So I’ll tell you one more time. Don’t try to cheat death. It will not end well.”

    Tom flung another curse as the so-called Mr. Mendelson faded away, leaving nothing but the echoes of smug, aristocratic chuckles in his ears.

---

    Tom walked out of the Gaunt Shack, feeling smug in the successful creation of another Horcrux. Something was different though- there was a distinct smell of rotting flesh on the wind that hadn’t been there when he entered. He saw a man walking up the road, who then turned and stood directly outside the gate to the meager property. Not a muggle then, thought Tom as he drew his wand.

    Tom hesitantly approached and was only more and more repulsed as he drew nearer. The man seemed to be a walking exhibit of disease. He had symptoms of everything from acne to the bubonic plague to dragon pox. One eye was rotted away and the socket was filled with tiny white warts that oozed a pus like spoiled milk, and Tom swore some sort of maggot or larvae fell halfway out of the man’s nose before he drew it back in with a snort.

    “Greetings, Mister Riddle!” the horrid man called out in a hoarse voice. “Tell me, do you recall what Mr. Mag- sorry, Mr. Mendelson told you?”

    “Don’t tell me what to do!” Tom snarled, shooting a blasting curse at the rotting husk, and he was pleased to see the man explode into chunks of gore, although he was less than pleased when some of those chunks landed in his hair. He vanished them and turned to leave when he heard the hoarse voice again.

    “Such a temper! You can’t just blast all your problems away, boy.” a cutting curse had the man’s arm falling to the ground with a wet splat. “You’re attracting attention from people like me, and that isn’t a good thing. Be glad that we aren’t acting against you. Yet.”

    “I know Fiendfyre!” Tom threatened.

    “Hmm, nasty piece of magic that is. Wish we had been able to suppress it better. Well, I’ll take my leave then, I’m not fond of the Desolation, imperfect though Fiendfyre is. But remember what I’ve said boy. You’re mucking about with things you don’t understand.”

---

    Lord Voldemort paused a moment as he looked down at the baby girl who was prophesied to defeat him. He wondered if any of the mysterious medlers who were so opposed to him having horcruxes (yet didn’t seem to do anything more than warn him about his so-called meddling) knew about the prophecy. Probably not the rotting man or the tramp. Perhaps the burning lady, or the Chinese butcher, or the vision in the bathroom. 

    Then the thought passed, and Voldemort raised his wand. “Avada Kedavra!”

---

    “Checkmate.” said the gravelly voice of Nathaniel Thorp as he moved his bishop, and another unfortunate soul was claimed by his master. Then the reaper of the dead nearly fell out of his chair. For his next task was not to collect another dead soul or bargain with someone who had not accepted their fate, but to collect a baby girl. Not her soul, but the actual, living, child, and deliver her not to his master but to the Magnus Institute. With a snap of his fingers Thorp was standing in a ruined bedroom over a crib containing a crying girl. 

    She was unremarkable, as far as babies went, aside from the fresh lightning bolt shaped scar on her forehead. No, that wouldn’t do, it was a mark of the End in physical form, he simply couldn’t allow it to become something for Simon to hold over the rest of them. The man was useful, but incredibly obnoxious. So he pressed a skeletal finger to his head and the lightning bolt scar disappeared and reappeared as a small skull over her collarbone. Then he heard the roar of a motorbike and a door slamming open, and so he scooped the girl into his arms and they disappeared without a sound.

    They appeared in the alley behind the Magnus Institute and Nathaniel smiled smugly at the sight of an irate James Wright already waiting there for him in his night clothes.

    “I know what you’re going to ask and the answer is no.” he said as Nathaniel walked forwards with the baby in his arms.

    “If you know what I’m going to ask then surely you know that if you refuse Agnes Montague and Gertrude Robinson will get a tip from beyond the grave about the Panopticon.” 

    Wright let out a long, weary sigh. “Fine. Give me your stupid letter and the stupid girl. But know that I’m doing this because I’m afraid of Gertrude, not because I’m afraid of you!”

    “That is very wise of you. Until we meet again.” 

    And so James Wright was left with a screaming baby, a letter in a cold, silvery envelope, and a desperate desire for some coffee.

Chapter Text

The first warning Gertrude had was that it was James Wright summoning her to this meeting. The second warning was that it was in a park. James hated going outside. The third warning was that James had given her a warning, specifically to “come armed and be on your toes, as we will be meeting with some less than pleasant associates of mine”. If Gertrude didn’t know any better she would say James was actually worried about her.

    The rest of her warnings came when Gertrude stepped out of the taxi and saw exactly who those associates were. There was James, of course, but also multiple avatars she knew or had heard of. She nearly instinctually opened fire on John Amherst before remembering that James had said it was in everyone’s best interests for this to go smoothly, and that bullets unfortunately did not work on John Amherst. So Gertrude cautiously approached the group sitting at two picnic benches shoved together. She took the open seat between James and Agnes (she suspected James had left her a spot between the two avatars she felt were least likely to try and kill her or drive her insane, which was unusually courteous of him). 

    “Excellent, we’re all here.” He said. “Now, the reason I’ve called you all here-”

    “Hold on a second there Jimmy, we’re looking a little unbalanced here!” called an old man with a cane and a bowler hat sitting on the end of the table. “Two Watchers and two Blinders, but no Muddies or Loonies or Enders?”

    “If you would let me explain, Simon , you would know this isn’t supposed to be any sort of a council, and thank goodness for that because you know the Buried wouldn’t send a delegate to meet you in the open air. Now as I was saying, we’re here because Terminus has dumped a baby wizard on us and demanded we raise her to kill some halfwit who’s been screwing around with horcruxes and before any of you start screaming at me I made copies of Thorp’s letter for everyone that I would rather you read before you throw a fit.”

    There was a lot of grumbling around the table, but everyone accepted their copy of the letter. Gertrude was more curious than anything else, especially when she realized that Emma Harvey was sitting on James’ other side.

    Dear James, or whatever name you’re going by now

    This is Harriet Potter, the witch who has been prophesied to kill that fuckwit Tom Riddle. And yes, I hate prophecies too, but they come from YOUR patron so shut the fuck up and keep reading. And yes I am swearing like a goddamn soldier because APPARENTLY it’s “unprofessional” for a reaper to swear on the job.

    Anyway, Riddle tried to kill this kid but her mother did some accidental sacrifice magic thing and his killing curse bounced back on him. It’s still weird for me to think that there are actual wizards. But what with the edgy bastard making FIVE FUCKING HORCRUXES his soul was incredibly unstable and when the curse rebounded a bit of his soul got stuck in the girl. Don’t worry, I removed it, but the raving idiot reaching the point where he’s accidentally making horcruxes means my master has reached the point where the drawbacks of intervention are outweighed by the desire to not have this asshat out here hemorrhaging soul fragments. So you’re gonna raise this kid to be a dark wizard killer or something. I guess. Terminus was rather vague on this point.

    Don’t worry though, I’m not dumping all this on you, I think you’d probably tell Gertrude how to kill you yourself if you had sole responsibility for her. So for your convenience I’ve put together a list of everyone I think should help raising her.

• Adelard Dekker hates your guts and isn’t aligned with anyone but he is a squib which makes him a good candidate to teach Harriet about the wizarding world.

• Agnes Montague can’t fulfill the purpose for which she was made anyways so she might as well help Harriet learn how to use the Desolation. And honestly I think she needs something to do other than waiting for me to call upon her.

• Alfred Grifter is apparently a reclusive wizard rock star when he’s not playing Slaughter concerts? Sounds like someone a young witch would appreciate knowing. And he can teach her Slaughter stuff and non-magical fighting, which is nice.

• Emma Harvey, like Agnes, has nothing better to do, at least now that I’ve blown her cover with this letter and revealed her as an agent of the Web. Sorry Emma! If it’s any consolation dear, I think you’ll have a lot of fun molding Harriet into a terrifying young woman and teaching her Web things. Also, more importantly, I need a (solely) Web avatar to help with a ritual to allow Harriet to draw power from the rift at Hilltop Road. It won’t even hurt you or mess up the rift.

• Gertrude Robinson, because a young woman can never have too many terrifying female role models. P.S. it’s up to you whether you tell Gertrude about Emma, but please don’t let her kill Emma until Tom is dead

• You. Don’t think because you have help you can wriggle out of teaching her Eye stuff.

• John Amherst, because although you seem to be the only one who isn’t repulsed by him, Harriet will need to learn Corruption shit. Unfortunately.

• Manuella Dominguez and/or Maxwell Rayner. I figured either Manuella would be busy with science stuff or Maxwell would be busy with cult stuff, but the important thing is that between the two of you you make sure Harriet is capable of becoming a thing that goes bump in the night.

• Michael Shelly, because she deserves some sort of non-terrifying influence on her life.

• Mikael Salesa is fun and clever and I like him. I don’t know what house Harriet is destined for at Hogwarts but I figure Salesa can introduce her to Slytherin scheming rather than Web scheming.

• I, Nathaniel Thorp, will cover any necessary influence from Terminus.

• Nikola Orsinov may be a psycho bitch but she is undeniably an effective avatar, and just about our only option for Stranger influence (Breekon and Hope and the Not-Them are not exactly the types to be effective teachers). Also, Harriet deserves some sort of fun big sister figure in her life.

• While I don’t expect Robert Lukas will be any more involved in raising this child than he is in raising his own, she will need to learn the ways of the Lonely.

• Simon Fairchild may be a psycho bitch but he is undeniably an effective avatar, and just about our only option for Vast influence. Also, Harriet deserves some sort of fun grandpa figure in her life.

• Trevor Herbert is a psycho bitch and while he is a deniably effective avatar, he is our only (feasible) option for Hunt influence, and honestly she doesn’t really need to do more than be able to track Voldemort and sniff out horcruxes.

    As for the Spiral and the Buried, the latter is fucking around across the pond and the former just doesn’t have any major avatars right now, but my master says not to worry, Harriet will walk the shifting corridors and face baptism by stone when she’s ready. I trust my master in this. Also, I know that the Magnus Institute has a bunch of confiscated spellbooks from when we tried to cut the wizards off from fear magic, so Harriet can probably learn from those.

    Also, to be perfectly clear, this is not a choice. All the greater forces are in agreement here. If any of you fuckers think you can refuse, your master will destroy you, or I will. Also, until Riddle is dead everyone is to stop their petty scheming and plotting and murdering. Again, this is backed by the powers that be.

    This should cover everything. James can probably contact me with any questions. Here’s hoping Harriet turns out more human than Agnes! 

    Yours truly,

        Nathaniel Thorp, Reaper of Souls

    “Well, this is interesting.” Said Simon as everyone finished reading.

    “Emma, just for the record, I would be shooting you right now if the grim bloody reaper hadn’t explicitly told me not to.” Gertrude said softly, to a quiet snicker from the assistant. 

    “Great, I hate everything about this. James, tell me when you need me.” Lukas said before vanishing in a puff of fog.

    “James, do you mind if I call you James, how much of their skin do babies need? I hear it’s very soft.”

    “All of it and you just lost any right to have individual time with her until she’s able to defend herself.”

    “If Robert gets to do a dramatic exit so do I. Tell me when she’s able to do things more interesting than sleeping and vomiting.” Simon said before falling upwards into the sky.

    “Goddamnit Simon! This is why you don’t get invited to any of my weddings! I was trying to do this properly instead of just sending copies of the letter to everyone!” James shouted. “Look. Much as I hate him, Simon does have a point that there’s not much we can do with her now other than maybe plug her in to the Hilltop rift. Emma, you and Michael are now Magnus Institute Childcare Specialists. Everyone named in the letter has… visitation rights, I guess, although I would like to reiterate that I was not joking about Nikola needing supervision. Any objections? Oh God, what is it Edmond?”

    “It’s Maxwell, as you well know Jonah. I actually think it would be better for Manuella and I to get started sooner rather than later. The Dark is always much more potent for children.”

    “...I hate you and I hate that you’re right. Very well, I’ll make arrangements with the babysitters.”

    “Am I just a babysitter now?” asked Emma indignantly.

    “Yes.” answered Gertrude and James in unison. “At least until she no longer needs it. Look on the bright side, you’re going to get a much more interesting experiment than ‘how long can I keep Fiona from dying?’ and it won’t even annoy Gertrude!” added James.

    “She did WHAT!?!?” shouted Gertrude.

    “Yeah, that is my cue to leave. Also, where did Trevor go?” asked Haan.

    James let out a weary sigh. “I think that’s as good of a meeting as we’re going to get. Gertrude, please don’t hurt Emma too badly. Nikola, I cannot stress how much I don’t trust you with a baby. For those of you who don’t want to be involved any more than they have to, I’ll contact you. For those who do, contact me. Meeting adjourned, or whatever.”

---

    “What do you mean the Potter accounts are still open?” asked Albus Dumbledore.

    “I mean that they are not closed.” said the goblin on the other side of the desk, who was looking entirely too smug for Albus’s liking. He took a deep breath. The goblins always knew how to irritate him.

    “Well, why not?”

    “Because there has not been any reason to close the accounts.”

    “No reason- the Potters are dead! The Wizengamot wouldn’t award me the holdings of a living house!”

    “Evidently they have.” the goblin replied drily.

    “WHAT DO YOU MEAN EVIDENTLY?” Albus took another deep breath. “All the evidence we have points to the Potter line being extinct.”

    The goblin chuckled. “All the evidence you have points to the Potter line being extinct. Goblin record-keeping tends to be much more accurate than your Wizengamot.”

    “Goblin record-keeping? Are you saying there’s another Potter out there somewhere?”

    “I’m sorry mister Humbledorn, but I cannot discuss Gringotts records with non-employees.” the goblin said with a smirk.

    “So what you’re saying is that you have evidence that the Potter line is not extinct but you won’t share it with us?”

    “Depends on who ‘us’ is.”

    “The Wizengamot, obviously!”

    “Is the Wizengamot a Gringotts employee?”

    “Of course it bloody isn’t! Stop being-”

    “If the Wizengamot is not a Gringotts employee they will not have access to Gringotts records. Would you allow a goblin to rifle through Wizengamot records?”

    “I would if you allowed us access to yours.” Albus offered tentatively.

    “Pathetic! Offensive! Ridiculous! The Goblin Nation has no need to paw through your filthy, disorganized records!”

    “Then what DO you want?” growled Albus.

    The goblin snapped his fingers and a long contract appeared on the desk. “We would allow Wizengamot members access to Gringotts records if the Wizengamot consented to being purchased as a subsidiary institution of the Goblin Nation. We are prepared to make quite the generous offer if-”

    “The Wizengamot is not for sale!” shouted Dumbledore.

    “Tell that to Lucius Malfoy.” the goblin snickered.

    “Enough! This farce of a meeting has gone on long enough! Good day to you!” exclaimed Dumbledore as he attempted to storm out the door regally instead of petulantly.

Chapter Text

Adelard Dekker groaned as he picked up the phone.

“Dekker! Dekker!”

    “It’s 3 AM here Emma, this better be good.”

    “Is it normal for witch babies to make their toys float?”

    “Yes Emma, that is literally the first example of accidental magic I gave you. That better not be all you called about.”

    There was a moment of silence from the other end of the line. “Just making sure. Measure once, cut twice.”

    “What does that expression have to do with calling me in the middle of the night?”

    “I’m double checking, okay? I’m fucking stressed because I had a kid dumped on me out of nowhere and she can’t sleep for more than fifteen minutes without bursting into tears thanks to whatever Rayner and Lukas have been doing to mark her. She’s cranky, I’m cranky, and James and Gertrude seem to find this absolutely hilarious. The only reason I haven’t killed the baby, everyone affiliated with the Eye, and then myself is because Michael Shelley is a fucking saint.”

    Dekker swore he heard a male voice yell “language!” from the other end of the line. “Did you just use the accidental magic as an excuse to call me and complain?”

    “That, and wake you up at 3 AM so you can have a little taste of the hell my life has turned into.”

    “This is why nobody likes Web avatars.”

    “The feeling is mutual. But also Michael likes me just fine!”

    “Would he still like you if he knew what you did to Fiona?”

    “He does know! He was actually incredibly accepting. He basically said ‘I don’t approve but I suppose it’s just in your nature.’ He’s such a sweetheart.”

    “If Harriet grows up to be anything other than a sociopathic avatar of whatever the fuck she wants I’m crediting that to Michael.” Dekker said tiredly.

    “Yes, if that happens I’ll blame Michael too.”

    “I said credit, not blame. Merlin, why are all my colleagues evil?”

    “You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

    “No, I didn’t, actually! None of us did!”

    “Robert did.”

    “Well yeah, but he’s a Lukas, he was raised for this world. And now he’s apparently going to throw her in a sensory deprivation tank for an extended period once she’s old enough to understand how bad that is.”

    “Yes, the Mother picks them young, but it’s always reassuring to see the other entities are capable of great cruelty towards children.”

    “How is that- no, fuck that, I’ve had enough of this conversation, I’m going back to bed. Goodnight Emma.”

    “Goodnight Addy!”

    “It’s Adelard!” Dekker shouted before slamming the phone down.

---

    “Beef!” the toddler shouted, jabbing a pudgy finger at the picture of a cow.

    “Very good, and this one?” asked Haan, pointing at a picture of a pig.

    “Poke!”

    “Eh, close enough.” said Haan, closing the picture book.

    “She won’t learn that way.” Gertrude said irritably, not looking up from her knitting.

    “Maybe. She seems to be having fun with it though.” 

    “Mhm. Also, just out of curiosity, was it you or Trevor who gave her a bone to chew on?”

    “I gave her the femur, Trevor gave her everything else. And the femur was not necessarily for her to chew on.” Haan said, glancing at where the toddler was indeed gnawing on a human femur.

    “That doesn’t change the fact that she is chewing on it.”

    Haan shrugged. “So what? Is she not at the age when children chew on things?”

    “She’s two, Tom, she should be done teething. And moreover, I hardly think chewing on bones like a dog is sanitary.”

    “Is the important thing not that she is having fun? And if she gets sick Amherst will fix it. Or use it.”

    “Are you sure that’s the best attitude to have?”

    Haan shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But it’s the attitude I have. At the end of the day, she is not that special, prophecy or otherwise. After all-”

    “Tom if you say ‘meat is meat’ one more time I will set Agnes and Alfred on you.”

    “Alfred doesn’t scare me. I literally worked at a slaughterhouse.”

    “I notice that you don’t say anything about dear Agnes.” Gertrude said smugly. Haan shrugged.

    “She is the Messiah of the Lightless Flame. Defective or not, I would be a fool not to fear her. I suspect of all the people who are aware of her, only you and perhaps Thorp are not afraid of her. And for you that is only because she is bound to you.”

    “You’re wrong, I think. From what I’ve seen, young Harriet is quite fond of her.”

    “All the better to make this Voldemort fellow’s life short and painful.”

---

    “Mister Michael? Where are you?” Harriet called through the seemingly endless racks of clothes in the department store. Then it occurred to her that she hadn’t seen anyone else in a long time.

    Well that was interesting. It was possible that the store had closed, but she hadn’t heard any sort of announcement and the lights were still on. Which means she was probably in some sort of direct manifestation of a fear. It couldn’t be the Stranger, there had been no mannequins since she lost Mister Michael. It could be the Lonely, Harriet thought as she turned another random corner, it didn’t feel at all like the depressing chill she got whenever Mister Lukas was around. She ran through her list of guardians in her mind. This didn’t feel like any of them!

    Then she grinned. Of course, the Spiral, one of the ones Miss Harvey said didn’t have a guardian for her. And as she thought this, she turned another corner and walked straight into Mister Shelley.

    “Harriet! There you are! I was worried sick! Where were you!”

    “Sorry Mister Michael! I think the Spiral felt I was ready to walk the Twisting Path.”

    “The… ah… o-okay then. Yes, your eyes certainly are doing the thing.”

    “The thing?” Harriet asked as she happily took Mister Michael’s hand so they could continue their shopping.

    “Yes, it’s just something I noticed. After you have an… encounter… your eyes are… different. Right now they sort of look like a kaleidoscope, but when you come back from sessions with Miss Dominguez they’re solid black, or when you’ve been doing exercises with Mister Lucas they’re all cloudy.”

    “Huh. Are my eyes pretty when they look like a collider-scope?”

    “Very pretty, darling.” Michael said with an amused smile. It was moments like these that reminded him that, for all the power she could apparently wield, she was still just a little girl.

---

    “Say, Albus, you don’t keep up with Wizard Rock, do you?”

    “You know I don’t, Quirinus. Why do you ask?”

    “Well, I was able to score tickets to Grifter’s Bone- they were playing in Chudley last night- and the funniest thing happened. Their frontman, Alfred Grifter, dedicated one of his new songs to Harriet Potter.”

    “Curious, but not exactly-”

    “He said it like she was alive, Albus. Said it was for ‘his favorite little witch’. And the song was about a girl who comes back from the dead to take revenge.”

    “...how curious. But I don’t believe Mister Grifter has any Seer blood.”

    “You taught Al Grifter?” Quirrell asked, awestruck.

    “Unfortunately. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the minister to attend.” 

    Dumbledore mulled over this tidbit as he walked up to his office and had a house elf bring him some tea and biscuits (there was no meeting with the minister, Albus just did not particularly like talking to his Muggle Studies professor). It was ridiculous that Harriet Potter could be alive and in contact with Alfred Grifter. Though it would explain why Gringotts refused to grant him access to the Potter vaults. And sure, there was no body, but with the power of magic bodies could easily be vanished or created as needed. It’s not like Voldemort left a body that night either.

    It was an amusing thought though. Harriet Potter somehow surviving an attack by Voldemort only to be raised by the most violent, cantankerous Gryffindor Albus ever had the misfortune to see pass through Hogwarts. Still, at least he had managed to channel his wrathful tendencies into violent music rather than violent actions. 

---

    “Miss Harvey?”

    “Yes Harriet?”

    “Why are you afraid of Auntie Agnes?”

    “Everyone is afraid of Agnes Montague dear.”

    “Yeah, but why?”

    “Well, you remember your lessons about the fears?”

    “Yeah, you’re a Spider and she’s a Flame but you said no fear is nessy- necessarily stronger than the others. So it has to be more than Spiders and Flames not liking each other.”

    Emma sighed. “Well, just because all the fears are equal doesn’t mean all the avatars are. I’m fairly weak as far as avatars go, while Agnes is probably the most powerful active avatar of the Desolation right now.”

    “Oh. Who’s the strongest Web avatar then?” 

    “I don’t know, go call Wright.” said Emma with a smirk.

    “I don’t think he likes me calling him to ask him things.” Harriet replied, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

    “You’re quite right. Why do you think I encourage you to call him so much?”

    Harriet giggled and then ran off to make a call.

---

    James Wright let out a heavy sigh as his phone began to ring. For a moment he was tempted to let it go to voicemail. He Knew it was the girl again, just as he Knew Emma put her up to it. He was about to reluctantly pick up the phone when he remembered he had a meeting with the investors in an hour, and these Q&A sessions were liable to go on all day.

    So James returned to looking over the access request from some grad student when a yellow door appeared next to his normal one. He sighed again as a young girl walked through the door.

    “I’m busy, Harriet.” 

    “It’ll be quick, I promise!”

    “No, it won’t.”

    “If you insist. Who’s the strongest Web avatar?”

    “A Brazilian politician currently using the name Pablo Cortez. I didn’t mean to ask you to make it take a while!”

    “I know. Who’s the strongest Eye avatar?”

    “Myself, Jonah Magnus. Oh fuck. ROSIE, CANCEL MY APPOINTMENTS TODAY!”

    “Miss Harvey says you shouldn’t say that word in front of me. Why do you tell everyone your name is James Wright if you’re actually Jonah Magnus?”

    “It’s to keep the fact that I’m immortal a secret. So please don’t tell.”

    “Okay. But why do you have to hide if you’re the strongest Eye avatar?”

    “Because the nature of my immortality is such that I have certain vulnerabilities I would rather not have my rivals looking to exploit.” James said, painfully (and probably pointlessly) trying to restrict the flow of information that was pushed through him whenever he was asked a question.

    “What’s the nature of your immortality?”

    James winced. So much for restricting information. Sometimes he wondered what the point of having all the information in the world at his disposal was when an annoyingly persistent little girl could make him spill his greatest secrets. Thank God Gertrude hadn’t caught on to this particular weakness of his. “Well, in my first lifetime I performed a ritual called the Watcher’s Crown that was meant to cause the Eye to take over the world but for some reason it failed and instead turned me into a conduit of information and allowed me to transfer my consciousness into other bodies by replacing their eyes with my own.”

    “Oh. Can I do the Watcher’s Crown?”

    “You could, but your brain is not yet developed enough to deal with the amount of information a connection to the Eye as close as my own would grant you.” James had an idea. He might have lost his greatest secret, but he could still win a bet. “Ask again when you start puberty.”

    “What’s puberty?”

    Yes, yes! “It’s when humans start their sexual development.”

    “What’s sexual development?”

    “It’s developing sexually and no more questions because ROBERT LOST A BET!” James shouted, picking up his phone and furiously dialing. “Robert darling! Do I have wonderful news for you! … Yup! And you know which one it was? … That’s right, you have to give her The Talk! … Robert! Of course I didn’t tell her to ask me! … Well yes, I did guide her towards it, but that was never explicitly banned! … You of all people should know I never follow the spirit of the law when the letter suits me better. Now get over here! No wriggling out of it! … Fine. But I’m holding you to that!” James grinned as he put the phone down. “Mister Lukas will be by on Saturday to answer all your questions about puberty and sexual development.”

    “Okay! Thanks Mister… I should still call you Mister Wright, right?”

    “Yes please. Have a good day now.”

    James smiled smugly as she bound back through the yellow door. He hadn’t even needed to cancel the investors meeting after all! Although he’d be damned if he was going to reschedule it for any time before next month. His strict policy of avoiding Simon as much as (in)humanly possible had not let him down yet.

---

The sheer awkwardness of an avatar of the Lonely being forced to give The Talk cannot be adequately captured by the meager writing skills of this author. Please imagine the most awkward thing you have ever experienced, combine that with the most awkward thing you have ever heard about someone else experiencing, and know that you have not come anywhere close to the awkwardness of Robert Lukas giving The Talk to Harriet Potter.

---

    The first thing that hit Emma when she stepped inside was the smell. She sighed. “Trevor, you better not have brought a dead thing in here!” she shouted as she walked towards the kitchen, which seemed to be the origin of some concerning slicing and ripping sounds. 

    “I didn’t!” the old man called back.

    Emma paused in the kitchen doorway. “Then I suppose the deer just walked into the kitchen and exploded?”

    “Don’t be ridiculous! Harriet brought it in!”

    “It was my first Chase!” added Harriet.

    “Be that as it may, you are smearing deer viscera all over the kitchen I use to make dinner. I am going to go take an aspirin and a nap to try and head off the migraine that I suddenly feel coming on, and when I’m up this kitchen better be spotless and deer free!”

    “That’s fine, we can move this to the garage. Harriet, where’d you put that tarp?”

    “Let me rephrase that: this house and the property it sits on better be spotless and deer free! Throw the damn thing out!”

    Trevor gasped. “Emma! I’m a Hunter, not a Butcher! I don’t waste good food! Besides, this is her first kill! It’s sentimental!”

    “Do your sentiments somewhere else then! If the deer isn’t gone by the time I’m done with my nap I will set Tom on you!”

    “I’m calling your bluff lady, Tom won’t take orders from you.”

    “Tom might not take orders from me, but he will take offense if he hears you and Harriet have been butchering without him!”

    Trevor gulped. “Understood ma’am, deer will be gone soon. Have a nice nap. Harriet, did you find that tarp yet?”

---

    “Albus! You’ve got some explaining to do!” Albus Dumbledore and Serverus Snape looked up from their intense discussion about the Potions Department budget for the upcoming school year to see an extremely angry looking Minerva McGonagall.

    “What do you need explained, Minnie?”

    “I told you not to call me that!” she hissed as she slammed down a letter and an envelope on top of the order forms Albus and Severus had been looking at.

    “Yes Minerva, I know that the acceptance letters technically fall to me as Headmaster, but I’m a very busy man, so I really appreciate you taking care of-”

    “Not the letter you daft twit! Look at who it’s addressed to!”

    Albus looked at the address on the envelope and Severus looked at the name at the beginning of the letter. Minerva felt quite smug as Severus made a strangled choking noise and Albus’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his skull.

    “Albus, you said- you said they were all dead!” Severus choked out.

    “It appears I was mistaken.” the Headmaster replied with an air of casualness that Minerva felt was not entirely appropriate for the situation.

    “What are you going to do about it?” she asked.

    “Why, I’m going to visit Miss Potter and sort this out, of course. I wonder if 105 Hilltop Road has a fireplace…”

Chapter Text

“And why, pray tell, do you want Servus and I to accompany you?” McGonagall asked.

    “Minerva, we are going into an unknown situation to make contact with a girl who has been presumed dead for eleven years. I want backup. Moreover, I’m curious as to what sort of impression she will make upon you two.”

    “The great Albus Dumbledore, seeking the opinion of a lowly Slytherin? I never thought I’d see the day.” Snape drawled.

    “You know I hold both your and Andromeda’s counsel in high regard. Minerva, you said you know of a place nearby we can apparate to?”

    “Yes. And I know I’ve already asked, but are you quite certain you don’t want to wear proper Muggle clothes?” she said, eyeing Dumbledore’s bell-bottom jeans, fuschia blouse, and leather jacket.

    “Minerva, we’re lucky we convinced him it would be rude to floo into their living room with no warning. Do you really think he’ll compromise on this?” Snape said wearily.

    “Severus understands. Shall we go then?”

    Minerva frowned, but side-along apparated the men to a copse of trees near Hilltop Road.

---

    “Checkmate!” Harriet said cheerfully, and not for the first time did Jonah Magnus regret teaching the girl how to protect her mind from intrusion. Not that he would read her mind to cheat at chess, of course. Then again, she’d probably have figured it out on her own anyway with how much time she meditated to maintain her connections to thirteen fears. Fourteen now, he reminded himself, after what Shelley had termed the Sandbox Incident. “Do we have time for another game?”

    “Not unless one of us plays exceptionally poorly, they just apparated and are about five minutes away. You remember the plan?”

    “Yes sir! Let you do the talking, and act like a normal young witch. Let them be wary of you instead of me!”

    “Very good. I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully.” he said before giving her an awkward pat on the head. He was hardly used to physical affection, but he Knew it was supposed to be healthy and normal for a developing child and she looked at him as some sort of familial figure.

---

    The first shock for Minerva came when a middle-aged man dressed in a sharp suit had opened the front door before Albus even had a chance to knock. “Hello professors, do come in, we’ve been expecting you.”

    They were ushered into a living room where a young girl with emerald green eyes and long, dark curls was humming happily to herself as she played both sides of a chessboard. She looked up and smiled at the three professors. “Merry meet, professors! I said that right, didn’t I? Mister Dekker taught me a lot of different greetings but I get them mixed up sometimes.”

    “You can just say hello, child.” Albus said gently. Minerva frowned. There was nothing wrong with the formal greetings, Albus certainly used them often enough. Albus and the man who had let them in locked eyes as they sat down, and then suddenly Albus blinked rapidly, looking shocked, while the man looked very smug. 

    “I will let that slide, professor, if you swear on your magic never to try any form of that trick on Harriet.”

    Minerva had no idea what that was about, although she suspected Severus did based on how he raised his eyebrows, which was for him the equivalent of a loud, dramatic gasp followed by a fainting fit.

    “I’m afraid I cannot do that, mister…?”

    “Wright, James Wright. And I must insist-”

    “It’s okay daddy, the old man seems nice. I like him, even if his clothes are funny.”

    Wright gave Harriet a long, hard look, before letting out a little laugh. “Very well then. Now, you are here to tell Harriet about Hogwarts, yes?”

    “Partially. See, I had, along with the rest of the wizarding world, been under the impression that young Harriet was dead. I thought perhaps Professors Snape and McGonagall could answer her questions about magic while you answer mine about her upbringing?”

    Minerva could not stop herself from raising an eyebrow at Dumbledore as he and Wright stood up to adjourn to the kitchen. That had not been part of the plan. 

    “So you guys are magic professors? What do you teach?” the girl asked enthusiastically.

    “I teach transfiguration, dear.” Minerva said with a smile. “That’s turning one thing into another.”

    “And I teach potions.” Snape added tersely. Minerva frowned at him. She knew he hated the girl’s father, but surely he could at least try to not scare the poor thing.

    “Can I ask what houses you guys are in? Mister Dekker told me about the houses at Hogwarts! He never went, he’s Dutch and a squib, but he says all his English friends love Hogwarts!”

    “I’m the head of Gryffindor, and Professor Snape is the head of Slytherin.” Minerva said, deciding that the less Severus spoke the better. And it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be grateful.

    “Whoah, cool! I wonder what house I’ll be in! Mister Dekker says I ought to be a Hufflepuff, but Miss Harvey says I’m a shoo-in for Slytherin!” Minerva expected some sort of derisive comment or reaction from Severus, but he was simply staring at the girl like she was a particularly complicated potion that nearly worked, and he was trying to figure out what the flaw was.

    “Well, with enthusiasm like that, I think you’ll thrive in any house. Has Mister Dekker or Miss Harvey told you about any of the classes?”

    “Yeah! They all sound really interesting! Is it true though that we have to wait until third year for Arithmancy and Magical Creatures and Runes? Those all sound really interesting. Not that the other classes don’t, of course! But Arithmancy sounds like magical maths and Miss Harvey says you can do anything with maths.”

    Minerva smiled, while wondering who this Miss Harvey was. Surely a witch if she knew about Hogwarts, but probably muggleborn or raised if she was so enthusiastic about maths. She didn’t recall teaching a Miss Harvey, or having one as a classmate, she’d have to browse through the records later.

    “Well I’m glad we’re avoiding the normal demands for demonstrations, do you have any unanswered questions about Hogwarts?” Snape asked, to Minerva’s surprise.

    “Um, yeah.” the girl said, suddenly bashful. “Is it- I heard there aren’t any music lessons at Hogwarts?”

    “Yes, unfortunately Albus saw the arts as frivolous and unnecessary.” Snape said flatly, and Minerva was very glad he restrained himself from the profanity-laced rant she had heard him give multiple times about how he felt Albus had axed the program because it was too traditional and something Slytherins did better at than Gryffindors.

    “That’s a shame. Uncle Al taught me how to play guitar and keyboard, and I like practicing.”

    Snape sighed. “Some of the older students may know of soundproofed rooms or rooms with pianos if you wish to practice on your own time.”

    “Cool! So Mister Dekker said Hogwarts is a castle? Is it like, a castle-castle or a school built with that kind of look?”

    “It is, as you say, a castle-castle.” McGonagall said with a wry grin. “I’ll never forget the first time I saw it. It’s… Hogwarts is more than a school. It’s also a community and a cultural cornerstone of wizarding Britain. I’d dare say the amount of influence Hogwarts has on magical British society rivals that of the Ministry of Magic.”

    “Wow! You guys must be really important then! What are the other teachers like?”

    “Well, there’s Professor Flitwick. He’s head of Ravenclaw and....”

---

    Albus Dumbledore took a moment to study this Mr. Wright as he shut the door to the kitchen. He was, on the outside, an astonishingly ordinary man. Slicked back salt and pepper hair, slick, stylish glasses, and a classy business suit. He wasn’t a wizard, Albus could sense magic and Wright did not feel like a wizard in the slightest.

    And yet, he opened the door before he knocked, knew they were professors before they introduced themselves, was casually accepting of magic as if he’d been risen to believe in it. And that wasn’t even the most damning pieces of evidence, which had Albus thoroughly confused and extremely wary.

    First, James Wright did not feel like a wizard, but he also did not feel like a muggle or a squib. He felt like something… the closest comparison Albus could make was to Newt Scamander’s Nundu. Although Wright felt like he was different in an entirely different way from a Nundu.

    Second, Wright had somehow managed to snatch up Harriet in the minutes between Voldemort’s alleged death and the arrival of Sirius. Which was good, since a Harriet raised by Sirius Black would have been almost certainly out of his control. Although then again, it would have been preferable to whatever had happened. Sirius Black was a loose cannon with few morals who had been falling into his family’s madness and their less savory magical practices, hence why Albus hadn’t proved his innocence, but he was at least more predictable than the enigma standing before him.

    And finally, despite not being a wizard, James Wright had perhaps the most impressive occlumency barriers he had ever seen. Albus wasn’t even sure if it was proper occlumency. He had just used a light probe and suddenly he was being dragged in, and it was like when he tried an active legilimency attack on someone with actual defenses. He had been in a cluttered mess of a library, and everything had eye motifs, from the chandelier to the books themselves. Then all the eyes swivelled towards him and he felt painfully exposed before he blinked and found himself back in his own head.

    So, this James Wright was very dangerous, wielded knowledge he had no way to know, and had powerful mental defences. Yet it seemed as though young Harriet was both fond of him, and exerted a degree of control over him, based on how she had successfully prevented Wright from pushing further about his demand for an oath. At least she seemed to have bought his friendly-but-senile-grandpa act.

    “So, you say you have questions, Dumbledore. Ask away.”

    “Very well. How did you come to be in a position to care for young Harriet?”

    “She was brought to me by… an acquaintance. He informed me she had recently been orphaned and he more or less blackmailed me and some others into raising the child.”

    “Who was this acquaintance?”

    “He goes by many names. I know him as Nathaniel, you would probably call him the Grim Reaper.” Wright said with a smirk. Dumbledore fumed. Oh how he wished he could just tear through this man’s mind to get the information he needs.

    “You can just say you don’t want to tell me. Would you tell me about these others who helped raise her? Are they why she used archaic wizarding greetings?”

    “They are traditional, not archaic, as you well know. And they are various non-magicals who have, if not my trust, a mutual desire to see Harriet grow into a strong young woman.”

    “Would I have heard of any of them?” Dumbledore asked with narrowing eyes, remembering a peculiar conversation he’d had with the young Professor Quirrell some years ago.

    “Only two of Harriet’s guardians have any connection to the magical world. Adelard Dekker is the non-magical scion of the Dutch House of Dekker, and I believe Alfred Grifter (Dumbledore was pleased to note the disgust in Wright’s voice when he said this name) is one of your alumni. Dekker has given her a primer on wizarding culture and etiquette, while Grifter has worked with her on controlling her magical outbursts, as well as teaching her some of his so-called music.” Wright finished with a sneer.

    “You don’t seem fond of Grifter.” Albus said with the air of someone who was commenting on the weather.

    “He is terribly vulgar and impatient. However, Harriet likes him, and he at least sees her as more than an unfortunate obligation or an amusing distraction, so I ultimately can’t complain.”

    “Do I need to be worried about any of Harriet’s guardians?”

    “Not for her sake.” Wright said with a snort. Dumbledore blinked as he took a moment to catch on to the threat.

    “I see. Will you need any assistance, monetary or otherwise, with acquiring Harriet’s school supplies?”

    “That will not be necessary, though I thank you for the offer.”

“One more question then, and I do apologize in advance if it’s rude. What are you, James Wright?”

    Wright smirked. “I am the director of the Magnus Institute, a reluctant caregiver for a young witch I have grown attached to despite my better judgement, and a wielder of powers that would shock and terrify you. Now let’s go see how Harriet is getting on with Severus and Minerva.”

---

    “So how do you think it went?” Mister Wright asked once the three professors had disapparated. Harriet thought for a moment.

    “It went well, I think. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore seemed to accept that I am what I showed them. Professor Snape seemed suspicious, which makes sense since he is the head of Slytherin and you said he’s predisposed to dislike me, but I don’t think I gave him anything concrete.”

    “That’s good. You didn’t mention anyone other than who we agreed on?”

    “Nope! Only you, Mister Dekker, Miss Harvey, and Uncle Al.”

    “You did better than me, then. I may have mentioned Nathaniel, though I don’t think Dumbledore believed me when I said he was the Grim Reaper.” 

    Harriet laughed. “I’m surprised he didn’t get more out of you, what with the whole conduit thing.”

    Wright chuckled. “Well, it’s a lot easier to manipulate my answers when the asker isn’t favored by the Eye. The Eye wants to share everything with you, it allows me to exercise my own discretion when dealing with people it doesn’t care about. Anyways, now that we don’t have to worry about surprise visits from meddling wizards, who would you like to take you to Diagon Alley?”

    “Hmm, Uncle Al would probably attract inconvenient amounts of attention. Maybe Mister Dekker and Mister Michael and Miss Harvey?”

    “Very well child. I’ll let them know. One more thing, why didn’t you let me make Dumbledore swear an oath not to poke around your mind?”

    Harriet’s happy grin turned sharp. “You know my mental defences are even stronger than yours, and even more vicious. I have to admit, I would very much look forward to seeing how the Headmaster handles being trapped in my head with me.”

---

    “Albus, what happened when you tried to-”

    “Not now Severus.” said Dumbledore, shooting a look at McGonagall that was not nearly subtle enough to escape her notice. She considered pushing it, but decided against it. She could probably get Severus to explain later, and while she followed Albus, she was Slytherin enough to let him delude himself that she followed him unquestioningly. “So what did you two think of young Harriet?”

    “She seemed like a very happy young child, very enthusiastic about Hogwarts. Very bright, and she expressed a disappointment that she had to wait until third year to begin electives. She was also disappointed about the lack of an arts curriculum. She said she plays keyboard and guitar.”

    “Interesting. Severus?”

    The potions master was quiet for a moment. “I… do not disagree with anything Minerva has said. And yet… I feel like she was hiding significant portions of herself from us. I’ve been head of Slytherin for years; I can recognize when someone is putting on a show. I’ll be keeping an eye on her.”

    “Severus, are you sure you’re not-”

    “No Albus, I am not projecting my feelings for either of her parents onto her! I hated James and loved Lily, but this child… she is neither of them. She might look like them, but I don’t think she is anything like her parents. I would bet money this girl goes into Slytherin.”

    “Nothing like her parents, eh? Then I’ll put five galleons on Filius getting her.” Minerva said with a smirk. “But for the record, I think you’re jumping at shadows.”

    “Well I suppose I’ll round out the bets with Hufflepuff. She seems very eager to please.” Minerva smirked and knew Severus was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. It seemed Albus was still falling into the common trap of underestimating Hufflepuffs. Minerva was fairly certain if Harriet ended up in the house of the badgers it would be out of loyalty and a willingness to get her hands dirty rather than any desire to please.

    “Fine. Just don’t rig the hat.” Severus said.

    “Severus! I would never! Besides, the hat is a very old and very powerful artifact. I’d be more likely to break it or hurt myself than successfully rig it. Besides, would I really change the course of a student’s time at Hogwarts so dramatically just to win a bet?”

    “Depends on the student. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to take the skele-grow off the flames in a few minutes.” Snape said, turning to leave.

    “Yes, I have things to take care of as well. I’ll be seeing you, Albus.” Minerva said, hurrying after Snape. “What happened that had Wright trying to make Albus swear an oath?” she said as she caught up to him outside the gargoyle.

    Snape sighed. “You do know that Dumbledore is even more skilled in the mind arts than I am, yes?” 

    “You’re not saying that he tried to use legilimency on Wright, are you?”

    “He did and Wright somehow detected and prevented it. And no, I have no idea how a muggle could do that.”

    “That’s… concerning. For a number of reasons. I’m not sure if I’m more worried that he tried to use the mind arts on a muggle or that he wouldn’t swear not to use them on Harriet!”

    “Yes, I’ll have to warn her about eye contact. Now if you’ll excuse me, I actually do have to check on the skele-grow.”

Chapter Text

Hi, Author Lady here with a quick note on Hilltop Road and Agnes Montague. You see, I was browsing the tMA wiki, trying to see if it was ever specified what kind of tree Agnes's life-tree was, when I came across a handy little timeline for Hilltop Road. However, this produces a little problem for our fic.

Canonically speaking, 105 Hilltop Road burns down in 1974, six years before Harriet was born. 

Therefore, despite my hatred of retconning, I'm retconning this. Harriet Potter and the Avatars of Fear takes place in an AU where the house at 105 Hilltop Road never burned down, allowing Agnes to sell it to the Institute so that Harriet could be raised there and draw power from there.

TLDR, I'm ignoring the canon timeline of Hilltop Road. Next chapter is in the works! You'll see why I wanted to know about Agnes's life tree!

Chapter Text

“Excuse me sir, we need to get into Diagon Alley but none of us have a wand, could you please help us?”

    Emma smiled as she watched Harriet effortlessly charm the surly-looking barman at the Leaky Cauldron. Her little weaver was growing up so fast! Then the bartender was tapping some bricks with his wand and the wall peeled back and if Emma wasn’t used to control her expressions her jaw would have dropped. As it was, Adelard was grinning like a fool and Michael looked completely flabbergasted. It was one thing to see Harriet make things float as a baby or catch on fire when she was angry (regular fire, not Lightless Flame). But it was quite another to be smacked in the face with a whole world of magic. Pictures moving on their own, signs advertising actual flying broomsticks, people wearing pointy hats unironically.

    “Right! First stop should be Gringotts London! Not to be indelicate, but the Potter family is quite wealthy, so we shouldn’t have any issues with paying for things once you’ve got things sorted out with the goblins.”

    “Why the hell do wizards let goblins do their banking? Didn’t you say there have been like, eighteen goblin rebellions?”

    “Seventeen and a half.” Adelard corrected. “And there are two reasons. Partially it’s because the goblins hate all wizards equally, or at least hate wizards based on how disrespectful they are, so they’re a very good neutral third party. But mostly it’s because wizarding society, and wizarding Britain in particular, does not have a lick of common sense.”

    “Really Adelard, I know you’re Dutch but surely it’s not that bad.” Michael said conversationally as they walked towards Gringotts.

    “Oh it is that bad! Take the non-magical British government. Then remove the commons, the judiciary, and the crown.”

    “So magical Britain is what, run by the House of Lords?”

    “Ahahaha. No. Magical Britain is run by an insane, gridlocked, inbred House of Lords with access to things like memory modification spells, hereditary curses, and more insane potions than the Eye itself can keep track of. Also virulent bigotry, political marriages, nepotism, and occasional polygamy.”

    “Oh dear…”

    Emma smiled and shook her head at Michael. He really was too sweet. Soon enough they were taking in the main hall of Gringotts bank.

    “Okay dear, remember what I told you for dealing with goblins?” Adelard said.

    “Don’t smile with teeth, don’t get into a staring contest, remember the greetings and farewells.”

    “You’ve got it! We’ll wait for you here.” said Adelard.

    And so they waited. And waited. And waited some more. Emma estimated it had been 45 minutes since a goblin had ushered Harriet into a back office when a goblin approached them and asked for them to follow. The trio was led into an office where a goblin was staring unapologetically at Harriet, who seemed close to tears. 

    “Thank God you guys are here!” Harriet said, launching herself into Emma’s arms. Emma was not particularly fond of physical affection, but it was obviously what the girl needed right now, so she gently stroked Harriet’s hair and asked what was wrong.

“TheresabunchofthingsIhavetodobecauseImHeiressPotterbutalsoHeiressBlackandIhavetomakeabunchofdecisionsand-”

“Calm down, honey. Deep breaths. One word at a time?” said Michael, and Emma had never been more thankful for his pathetic empathy. Harriet did indeed take a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. Emma was impressed to see that after a moment Harriet had gone from being on the brink of a panic attack to looking perfectly calm and composed. She was just a kid, but she was a damn strong kid.

“So apparently my father never took care of any of the family finances when he was alive, so between his neglect and there being no publicly acknowledged Potters for a decade, there are a number of issues that need urgent attention, including the fact that when I ‘died’ the Wizengamot gave all the Potter fortune to Dumbledore. Thankfully the goblins knew I wasn’t dead, somehow, and didn’t enforce the ruling, but there is a small mountain of paperwork from that alone that I quite frankly do not have the time or experience to deal with. Moreover, apparently my godfather was the lord of house Black, and he was sentenced to life in Azkaban and left me the Black house and titles, which are even larger and more complicated than the Potter finances.”

“Okay, but why are we back here?” asked Emma, dreading the answer.

“Because I need financial proxies. I figure Mister Dekker can manage house Potter and Miss Harvey can manage house Black, and Mister Dekker can help Miss Harvey with magic stuff and she can help him with maths! And you can both ask Mister Wright about stuff.”

Emma sighed. “Will Thorp kill us if we refuse?”

“Do you want to risk it?” Harriet replied with a cheeky grin.

“Attagirl. Alright, what do we need to sign?”

---

    Harriet and her entourage walked out of Gringotts several hours later with significantly less patience and significantly more gold.

    “I think I saw an ice cream place back that way! Can we please go?” Harriet asked, turning her puppy dog eyes on Dekker and Harvey (Michael would need no convincing after sitting through the meeting in a daze). Dekker and Harvey looked at each other for a moment.

    “So long as you realize that, as the only one of us with wizard money, it’s coming out of your pocket.” Miss Harvey said.

    “Actually, I-” began Dekker, only for Harvey to kick him. “Yeah, you’re paying.”

    Harriet snorted. “Just because I don’t understand all the terms and can’t sign all the forms doesn’t mean I don’t understand that I am, apparently, very wealthy. Maybe I’ll treat myself to a seat on the Institute’s board when I’m old enough.”

    The group followed Harriet towards Fortescue’s trying not to shudder at the thought of James Wright being financially tied to Harriet as well as emotionally.

---

    Daphne Greengrass surreptitiously watched from the booth where she sat with her parents and sister as a girl her age skipped into the ice cream parlor dragging three tired looking adults behind her. Curiously, one of the adults was dressed very well, but the girl and the other adults were dressed like muggles, albeit well-off ones from what she knew of fashion. Her entourage ordered, and sat down in a booth across the parlor. She started jabbering at the adults, though Daphne could not hear what was being said. Probably an enthusiastic muggle-born then. Probably destined for Hufflepuff. Then she raised her hand and Daphne squinted at the two rings on it. Then she gasped.

    “Mother, that girl is wearing a Potter ring! And a Black one!” Daphne hissed.

    Ophelia Greengrass, being much more practiced in the art of subtlety than her daughters, shot only a glance at where Daphne was pointing, rather than staring (as Astoria was) or staring-but-pretending-otherwise (as Daphne was). And would you look at that! She was indeed showing off a black and grey heiress ring sitting next to a black and silver one. “She looks your age darling, why don’t you go and introduce yourself?”

    “But she looks muggle!” whispered Astoria, scandalized.

    “She’s still wearing the rings, and does not seem cursed. And you know how the Blacks love their curses.” Daphne’s father, Sigmund, replied.

    “But why does she dress muggle if she’s an heiress?”

    “You won’t find out by just sitting here.” Ophelia said with an amused smile. “She’s probably here to do her Hogwarts shopping like we are, which means you’ll probably be classmates, if not housemates. Networking is a key part of the Hogwarts experience for a pureblood, and getting a leg up on it before you’re sorted has a chance to get you early contacts in other houses.”

    Daphne nodded, swallowed, and stood up. She was only a few steps from the table when she realized she had no idea what to say. Fortunately, the girl did. “Well met!” she chirped as she stood and curtseyed. “I’m Harriet Potter, Heiress Potter and Heiress Black! These are my guardians, Scion Dekker, Miss Harvey, and Mister Shelley!”

    Daphne silently thanked the girl for giving her a reason to know she was doubly an heiress other than “I was staring at your rings.” Then the rest of what she said caught up to Daphne. “Harriet Potter? But you-” Daphne paused. “Apologies, Heiress. Please forgive my astonishment, but I had been under the impression that you had been dead for a decade.”

    “Yes, it seems everyone was informed of my death except for me. Would you like to sit down, Heiress?” Potter asked, scooching over to make room in the booth.

    “Yes, but how did you know I'm an Heiress too?” Daphne asked. “Heiress Daphne Greengrass, by the way.”

    “Well, part of it is that you dress and carry yourself like an Heiress. Part of it is that I noticed you sitting with Madam and Lord Greengrass.” Potter said with a light smile that Daphne suspected was being used to hide a smug smirk. She found herself reassessing the girl’s odds of being in Hufflepuff.

    “Ah, yes.” Daphne said with a blush. She was dying to ask so many questions, but knew she had to phrase them in a polite way. She decided to settle on building rapport instead. “So are you going to Hogwarts this year? I am, and I’m really looking forward to it!”

    “Yeah, me too! Maybe we’ll be in the same house! What house do you want to be in?”

    “Probably Slytherin. What about you?” 

    “No idea!” Potter said happily. “Miss Harvey says I’ll be in Slytherin with you, but Mister Shelley thinks I’m a Hufflepuff and Scion Dekker says I’m a Ravenclaw. They won’t admit it, but I think they’ve got a betting pool going on it.” she added with a wink.

    “I strenuously deny these slanderous allegations!” Miss Harvey said, with exaggerated shock.

    “Slander is legal in wizarding Britain.” Daphne said, before realizing Potter and Dekker had said the same thing simultaneously, and the two girls broke into giggles while Harvey sighed. Then she noticed her family getting up and moving over. “I think my family is ready to go, so I must leave before dear Astoria gets impatient, but it was wonderful to meet you, Heiress Potter! I hope to see you in Slytherin!”

---

    Ophelia Greengrass mulled over what her eldest had told her about her meeting in Fortescue’s as she waited outside Flourish and Blotts with Astoria. The implications were tantalizing. The most celebrated martyr of wizarding Britain was not, in fact, a martyr, but rather had been raised by two muggles and a Dutch noble. She’d have to brush up on her knowledge of the Dutch lineages.

    And she was Heiress Black! And didn’t that just say fascinating things about the internal politics of the Black house! Either Sirius was never actually disinherited or Regulus had been having an affair with Lily, and Ophelia knew which one was more likely. Although the latter would have explained his mysterious disappearance, she thought with a snort. Still, it was much more likely that old Cygnus’s misogyny had trumped his politics. Then again, Sirius wasn’t actually the traitor to his house everyone thought he was. She wondered if he and Bellatrix had neighboring cells.

    But what Ophelia was most interested in was how the girl had escaped death a decade ago. Or had she? Ophelia could think of a dozen ludicrous ways Harriet Potter could appear to pop up a decade later. None of them were realistic or sustainable, or course, but she was curious as to what people would say. She was sorely tempted to start a rumor that Harriet Potter was actually Dumbledore under modified polyjuice just for the hell of it.

    Ophelia hoped Potter would play nice with the Slytherins even if she wasn’t one of them. The earliest she could reasonably get a chance to talk to the girl was at the Malfoy Yule Ball. Then again, Narcissa would probably be just as curious as she was, if not more so. Potter could probably spit on Draco and still score an invite.

---

    “Okay, that should be everything except your wand.” Adelard said, looking over the list.

    “I’ve already got a wand!” chirped Harriet.

    “What.”

    “Auntie Agnes made it for me!” the girl said, holding up a wand of black wood. “Fourteen inches, with wood from her life tree and a core of her hair!”

    “Listen, Harriet, I don’t mean to doubt Agnes, but wandlore is a very complicated subject.” said Adelard. “Can you actually cast spells with it?”

    “Sure I can! I haven’t tested it much, but it really likes fire spells!”

    “Of course it does.” muttered Emma.

    “Well, if you’re sure then.” said Adelard. “We should still take it to Olivander’s to get registered.”

    Michael let out a small cough. “Um, not to be the voice of lawlessness, but is that really the best idea? I’m guessing that if we walked in to register a wand made from the hair of the Messiah of the Desolation and wood from a tree that bleeds we might get asked some questions that we don’t want to answer. Also, I’m pretty sure it burned Gertrude when she tried to pick it up.”

    “Ooh, Michael, it’s good to see you have a devious side after all!” Emma said with a grin.

“I’m not- maybe I’m being a little devious, but I’m just trying to look out for Harriet!”

“Baby steps, Mikey! We’ll make a weaver out of you yet!” 

“Please don’t.” said Harriet wearily. “He’s my last good influence. The only thing stopping me from setting Dumbles on fire for trying to seize the Potter accounts is the thought of how disappointed Mister Michael would be if I couldn’t even last a day at Hogwarts without committing a murder.” 

    “Well if we’re not getting you a wand, maybe we could get you an owl instead?” Adelard suggested.

    “Actually, Nikola said not to let her get an owl, she’s got something in the works.” Emma said wearily.

    “That’s… slightly concerning.” said Michael.

    “Only slightly?” asked Adelard.

    “Guys, I know she’s a little out there, but Nikki probably has my best interests at heart.” Harriet said. 

    “You do realize she wanted to skin you when you were a baby, right?” asked Emma. “Also, since when did she let you call her Nikki?”

    “Nikki assures me she had no serious intention of skinning me. And she lets me call her Nikki because I let her call me Harri.”

    “I hope you realize how weird it is that you actually like her. Her and Amherst. I can put up with the rest, but her and Amherst are just too much.” said Michael.

    “Aww, you can put up with me? Such a sweetie.” Emma laughed.

---

    Arthur Weasley smiled at the large family trying to act casual as they passed through the wall into Platform Nine and Three Quarters. They had a wide variety of clothes, many of them were wearing what he believed were called “business suites”, but one was wearing wizarding robes, and a young woman with a peculiar face seemed to be dressed as the muggle religious figure Ronald MacDonald. He and his family followed through afterwards. He saw the oddly dressed gaggle of muggles disappear into the throngs of children and family members. 

    He glanced down at the cat following the group. He wasn’t sure why Dumbledore wanted them to help Minerva get into the platform discreetly, but who was he to question the greatest wizard alive?

---

    Professor McGonagall was not happy with Albus Dumbledore right now. She was in her animagus form, weaving between people’s ankles on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, just because Albus was too damn curious about Harriet’s guardians. So of course she had to go and spy on them at the platform as a cat. Minerva was curious as well, of course. But if Albus isn’t too old to hold three jobs at once then he isn’t too old to do his own legwork. She caught the girl’s scent among the cacophony of odors present and followed it to where the girl was saying goodbye to a small crowd.

    “...course I’m not gonna give up flying with you once I try brooms! You’re a gross old man, but you’re my gross old man.” she heard Harriet saying as she hugged a person in a sky-blue suit who could indeed be described as a gross old man. 

    “You’ll write us?” asked a man Minerva recognized as James Wright.

    “As if you won’t Know what I’m up to anyway.” she said with a teasing tone, although the way she said “know” made Minerva certain there was some hidden meaning to that word she was not privy to.

    Nevertheless, Wright chuckled and raised his right hand in the air. “Harriet, I promise I will not intentionally Know anything about your time at Hogwarts or your personal life. Hence why you need to write. Besides, you know how fond old codgers like me are of letters.” An old lady who Minerva could sense a steely edge to snorted. Then Minerva felt a hand grab her by the scruff of her neck and lift her up.

    Minerva’s first instinct was to turn back into a human, hex the person who grabbed her, and apparate away, but she restrained herself. That would lead to some exceedingly awkward questions on the first day of class, not to mention ruin her reputation. So she turned her attention to her captor and wished she hadn’t. The woman was dressed as some sort of muggle clown or ringmaster, with garish makeup and an obscenely sparkly top hat. But what unnerved Minerva most was the face. She felt like if she were to wipe the woman’s face with a wet towel it would remove all of her face, rather than just the makeup. The smile was plastic and unfeeling, the eyes were glassy and unfocused, and the nose- Minerva shivered. The nose didn’t have nostrils. This thing definitely wasn’t human. Then it spoke.

    “Look what I found, everyone! Somebody left a pretty little kitty unattended in this busy train station! Terribly irresponsible, wouldn’t you say?”

    “Nikola, leave that poor thing alone.” Wright said, but he had a smirk on his face and McGonagall got the impression he knew exactly what she was.

    “But it has such a beautiful coat! You know how I love taxidermy, James. And besides, the saying is true, there are so many ways to skin a cat! I haven’t run out yet!” Minerva gulped. If she got skinned by a clown monster she was so haunting Dumbledore’s ass.

    Wright shot Minerva and her captor a piercing look. “Curiosity has gotten this cat in enough trouble for today, I think, no need to let it be the death of her. Put her down.”

    “Fine, fine. You ruin all my fun, James. And I suppose it wouldn’t do to force Mister Wardrobe-of-the-Spiral to find a new transfiguration the day before classes start.” Nikola locked eyes with Minerva. “Oops! Now the cat’s out of the bag!” she said, releasing the professor with a laugh. Minerva internally sighed in relief as she fell to the floor and darted off. The last thing she heard was Harriet berating Wright and Nikola for their cat based wordplay.

---

    Harriet waved to her guardians as the train began to slowly leave the station. It hit her as the train turned a corner that she was no longer under their protection. Sure, she was hardly defenseless, but she was going off into the relatively unknown. Sure, the Eye would probably let Mister Wright know if she was in trouble, and the Distortion might give her a door if it was in the mood, but mostly, she was on her own. She’d have to ask about fear-based teleportation this summer- she knew there were ways to travel quickly with the Vast and the Dark, and maybe others. 

    She considered taking a walk around the train, perhaps looking for Heiress Greengrass, but decided there’d be time for that later. Mister Wright had given her some fear-based spellbooks from the Institute, but said she couldn’t start looking at them until she left- apparently between the education she’d received from her guardians, her connection to the Fears, and the theoretically unlimited amount of power she could draw from the rift, she’d be far ahead of most of her classmates, and would need something to keep herself occupied. But she was quite curious, so she reached into her bag and pulled out a text written in Old Norse about Vast-based magic. Thank God/Fear/Merlin for Eye-based translation. Harriet laughed as she imagined how much she’d have to dumb herself down when she started taking Ancient Runes.

---

    Tracey Davis listened intently as her cousin Daphne explained to her and Blaise Zabini what she had been tasked with.

    “Okay, so it’s weird that the Potter girl is alive, but why is your mother so interested as to order you to make friends with her?” Blaise asked.

    “That’s the thing! I don’t know and she won’t tell me!” Daphne said exasperatedly. “I asked and she just said ‘there’s something peculiar about that girl and I want to know more’. But I don’t know what that means!”

    “Well, you already met her, how about you introduce her to your cousin and your best friend?” Tracey suggested. 

    “You know what, why not? I’ll even bring Blaise, too.” Daphne said with a smirk.

    “We’re just charging in without a plan? Like Gryffindors?” asked Blaise incredulously.

    “We don’t know we’re going to be Slytherins yet.” said Tracey. “Besides, you can’t really plan things like this without coming across as fake and awkward.”

    “It’ll be fine, she’s really nice.” Daphne said as she stood up. “I think she’s probably scary smart, but genuinely nice.”

    “Oh very well.” Blaise grumbled. So the three friends stood up and began searching the train, or rather Blaise and Tracey followed Daphne as she discreetly peeked inside the various compartments. Soon enough she was knocking on one.

    “Heiress Greengrass!” said a bright voice as the door opened.

    “Heiress Potter, it’s good to see you again! May I introduce my friends, Heir Zabini of the Italian House of Zabini and my cousin, Miss Tracey Davis?”

    “Delighted! Would you care to join me?” asked Potter, and Tracey noted that the book she was putting back in her bag looked very old and felt… off. It wasn’t dark magic, Tracey had encountered enough dark artifacts to recognize the peculiar feel they had. But it wasn’t light magic, either. Yet it still felt powerful. A curious enigma.

    “What were you reading?” Tracey asked after everyone had settled in.

    “Oh, just an old book one of my guardians gave me on wizarding culture and customs and such.” Potter said, her eyes locked on Tracey, daring her to call her on the lie.

    “Of course.” said Tracey, knowing that if she didn’t back down she’d be jeopardizing things for Daphne. “Were your guardians muggles, then?”

    “Most of them. I had quite a few. But one of them is a squib from the continent, and one of them is a wizard who went to Hogwarts in the 40’s. Mister Dekker worked on making sure I don’t make a fool of myself outside of class while Uncle Al helped make sure I wouldn’t make a fool of myself in class.”

    “Well I’m glad you’re not walking in here unprepared. I imagine it must be hard enough for muggleborns to walk into an entirely new culture, but people will expect certain things from you as an Heiress.”

    “Yes, I’ve noticed that. My first Gringotts trip was much more complicated than I’d assumed it would be. But we got everything cleared up. Eventually. I’m just glad the goblins didn’t stab me.”

    “Yes, ‘I’m just glad the goblins didn’t stab me’ seems to be the standard reaction to your first Gringotts visit.” Blaise said with a smirk. “They’re small, but vicious. Like a mongoose, but much smarter, and that much deadlier for it..”

    “Yes, I did get the sense they’re a very martial culture.” Harriet mused. “But enough about goblins! Heiress Greengrass said she thinks she’ll be in Slytherin, do you guys think you’ll be joining her there?”

    “Yes, mother said I should ask to be put there even if that’s not where I’m recommended to go. She says I need to learn to play the game whether I like it or not. But I suspect I’ll like it.” he added with a grin.

    “I’ll go wherever I’m put, although I certainly wouldn’t mind joining my cousin in Slytherin.” said Tracey. “What about you?”

    Harriet gave her a dreamy smile. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we? I’ve had people guess every house for me. I suspect money will change hands no matter where I end up. Although Mister Wright and Mister Lukas tend to pay bets in favors rather than money. Why, one time when Mister Wright lost…”

---

    Severus Snape was incredibly thankful he had not been the one to send Minerva spying when she came storming into the headmaster’s office to report. He listened with the tiniest hint of a smirk as Minerva complained about the smell of the train station before leaning forward when she got to the meat of her report.

    “The only reason I’m not hexing yer arse black and blue is that I actually did learn some very concerning things. When I got there she was talking with an old man about flying with him. But he didn’t look anything like Grifter, so he was probably a muggle pilot or something. But then things got interesting. Harriet seemed to more or less imply that James Wright was omniscient; she joked that she didn’t have to write because he could just know whatever he wanted, which caused him to promise he wouldn’t intentionally know anything about her personal life. But the way they said ‘know’ makes me think there was a meaning to the word I didn’t understand.”

    “That is indeed very worrying. Hopefully the wards are-”

    “I’m not even at the bad part! Then something picked me up and started threatening to skin me! It and Wright definitely knew I was a human, and she more or less told Harriet that the cat she was holding was her transfiguration professor!”

    “That is troubling indeed.” Albus said. “I’m afraid I also have bad news of my own. Nicholas owled my the other day. The Philosopher’s Stone has been stolen.”

    Snape frowned as Minerva gasped. “You have a theory, don’t you old man. And you’re not going to share it with us, because Merlin forbid-” Snape began when Dumbledore cut him off.

    “I think it was Tom. He, more than anything else, is terrified of death. And if Harriet was able to cheat the reaper, it’s entirely possible that Tom did too. I have a way to check if he is dead or not, which I intend to use once I have the time- it requires a trip to the Ministry and an extremely complicated charm.”

    “Very well then Albus. I’m going to go make sure Hagrid has the boats and the carriages ready.” Minerva said, standing to leave.

    “Of course. Severus, would you mind taking the Sorting Hat down to the Great Hall?”

    “If you insist.” said Snape, taking the hat and its stool and following Minerva out the door. He put down the stool at its spot in front of the staff table, and then, on a sudden suspicion, put the Hat on.

    “Why hello again, Severus. Rare I get to have a second chat with people. How has Slytherin treated you?”

    “It’s had its ups and downs. I just wanted to check, has the Headmaster tampered with you at all?”

    He heard the hat’s laughter in his mind. “No, he’s not that stupid, though he did try to convince me to put one Harriet Potter in Gryffindor, or failing that, Hufflepuff.”

    “I’m glad he did not succeed, then. May I ask why you refused?”

    The hat mind-laughed again. “Because I have a job, a very simple job. Help students wind up in the house that’s best for them. And I do not know if the Headmaster knows what’s best for this Miss Potter. The details of any student’s sorting is between me and them and whoever they choose to tell about it, and Miss Potter will be no different. If she becomes a lion or a badger it will be in no way due to the Headmaster’s suggestion. I will not even tell her about it so that she will not be influenced one way or another by it.”

    “I see.” thought Snape. “But if you help students wind up in the house that’s best for them, why did you allow me to choose to go into Slytherin instead of Hufflepuff?”

    “Because at the end of the day, it was the belief of the founders, and therefore myself, that each student knows what's best for themself. I’m just a tool to offer advice and aid in self reflection. The only time I ever overruled a student’s choice was when one young man who agreed with me that he’d be better off in Gryffindor asked to be put in Slytherin so he could make sure they would not win the house cup.”

    “What a typically Gryffindor move. Who were they?”

    “You know I can’t tell you that. Although I will note that you have met them. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to do a couple of run-throughs of this year’s song. Albus gets so tetchy if I try to practice in his office, yet he won’t let me out of it.”

    “Well, I wouldn’t want to spoil myself. It was a pleasure talking to you again.” Snape thought before removing the hat and putting it on its stool.

    He had a lot to think about as he walked back towards the dungeons. He wondered how things would have been different if he had taken the hat’s advice and gone into Hufflepuff. It had recognized his ambition and sharp mind, but ultimately said he would be happier with people who shared his appreciation for hard work and loyalty. But he had been young and stupid and had foolishly told the hat he’d only be happy when he was famous and powerful. Looking back, if the hat had a heart, it would have been heavy when it shouted “Slytherin!” from atop his head.

    How ironic, he thought, that the little boy who the hat had identified as being fiercely loyal to those he cared about would grow up to be a spy with loyalties torn between the two most powerful wizards in Britain. Then again, he didn’t care for Dumbledore or the Dark Lord the way he did for Lily.

---

    Hermione Granger was walking slowly down the Hogwarts Express, trying to be discreet as she glanced in the rooms she passed, full of groups of friends. She really hoped she made some friends at Hogwarts. Nobody had wanted to be friends with the black know-it all (sure, they said it had nothing to do with her being the only black girl at her school, but it definitely didn’t help) but she really hoped the wizarding world would be different.

    She heard a door open behind her a girl’s voice cry out “Hey, you!” but Hermione assumed she was talking to someone else (they always were talking to someone else). But then she felt a hand tapping her shoulder and she turned around to see a girl her age with curly black hair and intelligent green eyes. “You seem lonely.” she said, and the way she said that coupled with the sad look in her eyes made Hermione feel like there was more to that statement than she understood. “Would you like to join my friends and I?”

    Hermione considered declining for a second, it seemed like an offer made out of pity, but then the girl had taken her hand and gently led her into one of the compartments she had passed. “I’m Heiress Harriet Potter of House Potter and House Black!” she said brightly as she led her inside and closed the door. “This is Heiress Daphne Greengrass of House Greengrass,” Harriet said, indicating a girl with long blonde hair and perfect posture “Heir Blaise Zabini of the Italian House Zabini,” Hermione turned her attention to a boy with deeply tanned skin and a roguish grin, “and Miss Tracey Davis.” The girl sitting next to Daphne was a brunette with a soft face but sharp eyes. 

    “Oh, uh, hi, I, uh, don’t know how to do the introduction thing you just did, but I’m Hermione Granger. I don’t think I’m an Heiress.” she added.

    “Ah, you must be a muggleborn then. That’s alright, I’m muggle raised too, I can teach you everything you need to know.” Harriet said, and Hermione noticed that the girl’s gaze swept over the other occupants, seemingly daring anyone to challenge her, though Hermione wasn’t sure then.

    “I can help you too, my dad’s a muggleborn, it took him forever to get acclimated to wizarding life, but he was a Gryffindor, so he didn’t really have anybody to help him with it.” Tracey said.

    “What does your house have to do with it?” Hermione asked curiously.

    “Well, Gryffindors generally tend to be non-traditional, and the traditional people pretend they aren’t to fit in. The opposite is true for Slytherin, it’s the traditional house. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are much more accepting; Hufflepuff leans non-traditional and Ravenclaw leans traditional, but you wouldn’t get bullied for going against the grain the way you would in Gryffindor or Slytherin.”

    “This almost sounds more like political parties than school houses!” Hermione said, earning a laugh from the others in the compartment. 

    “Political parties, pigeon-holes, and fraternities rolled into one, from what I’ve heard.” said Harriet. “The different houses are basically adjectives at this point, although the meaning depends on context. Calling someone a Gryffindor can mean they’re brave and dedicated to their principles, or it can mean they’re foolish and overconfident.”

    “Wow… I didn’t realize how important it was. So how do I know if someone’s traditional or not?” asked Hermione.

    “Sometimes you can tell based on their clothes, but that has as much to do with wealth and personal taste as it does with politics, so the best indication is how they talk. Once you’re used to the wizarding world you can tell just based on how they introduce themself.” said Tracey. “For example, if someone introduces themselves without using any sort of title like ‘Heiress’ or ‘Mister’ they’re probably not traditional. If they only use their first name, they’re definitely not traditional.”

    “Oh. Is there protocol as to when to use first name versus last name?”

    “Yes, in traditional circles you do not call someone by their first name until they have invited you to do so. I’ve known Blaise and Tracey forever, so I call them by their first names, but neither you nor Potter have invited me to use yours, so for now you are Granger and Potter to me.” said Daphne- er, Greengrass, Hermione corrected herself. “You can also add on a Miss or Mister or Heiress or what have you if you’re in a particularly formal setting or were referring to someone you were not friendly with. For example, a boy came by to bother us earlier. I say Potter scared off Heir Malfoy and Tracey was greatly amused because as I said, Potter and I are familiar with each other but we haven’t invited each other to use our first names. I say Heir Malfoy because he’s an arrogant prick who I would rather hex than consider myself familiar with, and I say Tracey because she’s my cousin and one of my best friends.”

    “I see, thank you Greengrass. It would be Greengrass, yes, and not Heiress Greengrass?” 

    “I think we’re sufficiently friendly that you can drop the title.” Greengrass said with a smile that Hermione found herself returning.

    “Okay. Thank you for teaching me all this, I’m sure I would’ve looked like quite the fool otherwise.” Hermione said. “Do you have any books you can recommend on traditional etiquette and culture?”

---

    Harriet smiled as she listened to Granger chat away with the rest of the compartment. She had felt someone touched by the Lonely pass by, and while Harriet understood the Lonely and could use it, she would never like it the way she did some of the others. That combined with feeling a nudge from the Web had her chasing down the girl and bringing her back to the compartment. The fact that she’d felt the nudge from the Web indicated that it was a choice, but that the Web definitely preferred she meet Granger, and though some would say she was insane for it, Harriet did trust the Web. At least to some degree.

    Curious, Harriet closed her eyes and tried to feel if anyone else nearby had any outstanding marks. None were as strong as Granger’s Lonely mark, but Zabini’s Web mark nearly was, and Greengrass had, if not a mark, some Eye-related anxieties weighing her down. Curious.

---

    “Are you sure, Severus?” asked Minerva. “You hate first years!”

    “I don’t hate first years, I hate the boneheaded mistakes first years make. Do you have any idea how many cauldrons the average first year destroys? Then remember that half the class is below average!” 

    “Not necessarily, but I get your point. Still, why do you suddenly have an interest in bringing in the first years?”

    Snape sighed. It seemed like she wouldn’t let this go. “I talked with the hat earlier, when I brought it down. It… made me think. Did you know that the hat wanted me in Hufflepuff?”

    “You’re kidding! You? Your name is synonymous with Slytherin-ness!” exclaimed McGonagall. 

    “It is now. But many of my… behaviours… are learned rather than innate. It’s sink or swim in the snake pit, as you well know, which is why my house churns out some damn fine swimmers.”

    “And the occasional soggy corpse.” Minerva said sadly. “Alright, you win, have your nostalgia.”

    “Minerva, you know I’m not one for nostalgia. I’m doing this for the opportunity to pass on advice.”

    “Very well then Severus. I’ll inform the Headmaster. Once it’s too late for him to stop you, of course. Wouldn’t want him to get some foolish idea about you corrupting the youth with your Slytherin snakeyness.” she said with a grin. “And before you say it Severus, yes, the hat did seriously consider putting me in Slytherin, but we agreed I would get in significantly fewer fights in Gryffindor.” 

Chapter Text

Hermione smiled as she stepped off the train with Harriet and Harriet’s friends (who she suspected were very close to being her friends too). Harriet had given her permission to use her first name as they were pulling into the station, and while the others hadn’t been as quick, she knew that it was nothing personal and that these things took time. After all, none of them were on a first name basis with Harriet, either. An unusually tall man had called for first years to follow him, and told them that there was to be no more than four people to one of the boats they were to be boarding. For a moment, Hermione was gripped with a sudden fear that Harriet would go off with Greengrass and Davis and Zabini and she’d be left all alone. But Harriet just took her hand, waved goodbye to the others, and led her to a boat with a pudgy-faced boy holding a toad and a crafty-looking girl who looked to be South Asian.

Harriet gave her a subtle look as they climbed in and Hermione realized that this was her opportunity to practice the greetings and introductions she’d been taught on the train. “Well met.” she said nervously, before receiving an encouraging smile from Harriet. “I am Miss Hermione Granger, and this is Heiress Harriet Potter of House Potter and House Black.”

Both of their companions looked flabbergasted, though Hermione was unsure as to whether that was because of a muggleborn using traditional greetings or because Harriet was, apparently, supposed to be dead. The girl recovered first. “Well met.” she said shakily. “I am Padma Patil, Scion of the Indian House of Patil.”

This seemed to shake the boy out of his shock and he introduced himself as Heir Neville Longbottom. The four of them chatted as the boats began slowly sailing themselves across the lake, mostly about houses. Amusingly, Longbottom said he wanted to go to Gryffindor, while Patil wanted anywhere but, on account of her twin sister being dead set on it. They were apparently not the sort of twins who acted as one mind in two bodies. The large man (who Hermione was increasingly certain wasn’t entirely human) called out that they were about to get their first view of Hogwarts.

It was breathtaking. A quick glance around reassured Hermione that she was far from the only one gawking at the majestic sight of the castle framed by the early autumn sunset. Even Greengrass, who seemed impossible to rattle on the train (not even when Zabini told a joke that made everyone else blush) was staring at the castle in wonder. Hermione mentally tipped her hat to whoever had designed the thing. Soon enough they were clambering ashore and being led towards the building that was to be her school for the next seven years.

---

    Harriet was surprised to see Professor Snape waiting for the group of first years in the entrance hall. He hardly seemed like the type to enjoy leading groups of young children around. In fact, based on what she’d seen when she was putting on her innocent little girl act for him and Professor McGonagall, he didn’t seem to be the type to enjoy teaching at all. Curious.

    Harriet put aside that mystery for now, and let herself be swept along in the crowd. As she did so, she felt for any traces of fears. She was not particularly surprised to see Professor Snape had been marked quite severely by the Lonely and the Desolation. Between Miss Harvey’s lessons and insight gained from her relationships with the Eye and the Web, Harriet could read body language like a neon sign, and the potions professor carried himself like a survivor, but also like someone who was very tired, trying to hide it, and almost succeeding.

    Longbottom also seemed to have some anxieties that tasted of the peculiar mix of the Vast and the Buried. Trapped in a way that made him feel insignificant, perhaps. She got a similar feeling from Heir Malfoy (which did not excuse him being a pompous prat, even if she now suspected it was to cover some of his insecurities). There was a loud ginger boy going on about wrestling a troll who had an acute Web marking, although it was the simple, visceral kind that indicated a fear of spiders rather than a more complex, psychological one that indicated a fear of manipulation or loss of control. A heavyset girl with Flesh based fears. A short, weedy boy who- She was distracted from her musings when the group came to a halt in an antechamber.

    “When your name is called, you will step out and be sorted.” said the professor. “For those of you who have not bothered to open your history texts, sorting occurs via the Sorting Hat, which will help you decide which house is best for you. The ultimate choice belongs to you, not the hat, but do not discard the hat’s advice without serious consideration. The Sorting Hat is far older and far wiser than any of you, and it wants what’s best for you.”

    Harriet was surprised to see Greengrass raise her hand. “Mother said it reads your mind. Is there a way to keep it from seeing something you don’t want it to?” she asked when the professor nodded at her.

    “Not without strong occlumency barriers. However, as I said, the Sorting Hat has your best interests at heart, and will not disclose any information it learns about you unless failure to do so would present a serious danger to yourself or others.”

    Greengrass looked relieved, and Harriet wondered what had prompted that question. She suspected it had to do with her Eye-related anxieties. Then a voice called out “Abbott, Hannah!” and the sorting had begun.

---

    “Bones, Susan!”

    Susan nervously walked out and put on the hat. “Hello there, Heiress Bones. Let’s- oh. Oh dear. I’m so sorry about your parents. They were wonderful people, but I’m glad to see you’re doing well with your aunt.”

    “Thank you, uh, hat?” Susan thought awkwardly. 

    “Of course, honey. Now let’s see what house you’d be best for. I think you have the brain for Ravenclaw and the cunning for Slytherin, but your need for a large, loud social circle wouldn’t fit well in Ravenclaw, I think, and you’re far too empathetic to enjoy being in Slytherin.”

    “Gryffindor or Hufflepuff?”

    “Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.” the hat agreed. “I think you have the skills and attitudes valued by both houses, but your values will be much more embraced in Hufflepuff.”

    “What do you mean?” asked Susan.

    “You have a very strong moral compass and a loyalty to the law above all else. But sometimes those two things can come into conflict, and Hufflepuff will help you navigate that when it comes up. Gryffindor culture tends to value raw strength, which would constantly grate on you.”

    “Okay then, Hufflepuff!”

---

    “Bulstrode, Millicent!”

    Millicent walked towards the Sorting Hat, being careful to keep a sneer on her face even as she carefully avoided looking at any of the people watching her. She felt like if she looked at anyone and saw the disgust and anger her mask would slip and she’d run out of the hall in tears and be laughed out of Hogwarts.

    “Oh dear.” said the hat as she put it on her head, and Millicent was sure the hat was going to shout out for the hall that a fat, ugly girl like her had no place in any house. “No, Scion Bulstrode, I will not be kicking you out of Hogwarts. But I will confess I am unsure as to where to put you. How about I start by asking, are you okay with me telling the Headmaster about how your parents treat you?”

    “Please don’t. He can’t do anything and my parents will… they wouldn’t be happy.”

    “Yes, I was afraid you’d say that. Old goat probably wouldn’t- well nevermind that. I’m worried about you, and I’m not sure what house would be best for you. I think you would hate the Gryffindors and they would hate you. The Hufflepuffs, much as I love them, might have trouble understanding your boundaries. Which leaves Ravenclaw and Slytherin. I’ll be honest, you’re not an eagle or a snake. I think you’re, to borrow a muggle phrase, a lone wolf. And I think wolves like you do best in Ravenclaw or Slytherin, especially if they’re raised traditionally as you were. If you want to be left alone, Ravenclaw will respect that, as will Slytherin, after a while.”

    “Which is better then?”

    The hat seemed to sigh. “You have a lot of… sharp edges. Slytherin will sharpen them, while Ravenclaw will soften them. But the choice is yours as to which path you want to take.”

    Millicent thought. She could be fine in Ravenclaw. She could be fine, but never happy, never respected. She’d always be fat, ugly, Milly. But Slytherin. Slytherin could help be strong. Be respected. Be more than she is.

    “Very well then. I wish you the best of luck, Scion Bulstrode. SLYTHERIN!”

---

    “Davis, Tracey!”

    Tracey walked into the hall nervously, but kept her head held high and her back straight, just as her mother and aunt had taught her. She sat down on the stool as she put the hat on.

    “Hello there Miss Davis. Let’s see what we have to work with here. Hmm, very clever, both in the Ravenclaw and the Slytherin way. I don’t think you would feel welcome in Gryffindor, and I think you’re too practical and savvy for Hufflepuff. Work smarter, not harder, yes?” said the voice of the hat in her head.

    “What do you recommend?”

    “Ravenclaw or Slytherin, like I said. You’ll have those in Slytherin who won’t like you for being a halfblood, but you seem fairly certain that your cousin and Heir Zabini will be sorted there, so you’ll have friends already there. I think you’ll do great things either way.”

    “Yes, but I don’t just want to be great, I want to be the greatest. I think Slytherin.”

    “Excellent. It was a pleasure speaking to you Miss Davis.”

    Tracey heard the hat shout out the name of her new house, and she smiled as she walked towards Slytherin table.

---

    “Granger, Hermione!”

    Hermione’s nervousness was much more apparent than Davis’s as she walked forwards and put on the hat.

    “Well, you’re quite the interesting case, Miss Granger. One could make a case for any house for you.”

    “Which do you recommend?” Hermione thought at the hat.

    “Hmm, I haven’t decided yet. You could certainly make a good Gryffindor. It would not be easy for you, but you would not back down from the challenge, which is itself a sign that you would be able to overcome it. You could make a fine Hufflepuff, I can see that you have a fierce loyalty waiting in you for someone worthy of it, and you throw yourself into your work with a vigor I’ve rarely seen in nearly a century of sorting. You are, as I’m sure you know, exceptionally intelligent, and would very much enjoy the atmosphere of Ravenclaw Tower. But you also have a very Slytherin cunning about you, though with your heritage you might have a hard time in the serpent’s lair. So Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw I think, and as I said, I think you’d enjoy the quieter atmosphere of the Ravenclaw areas than the Hufflepuffs. But I stand by my assessment that you will flourish wherever you end up. What do you think?”

    Hermione felt herself blushing at the hat’s flattering assessment. “I think Professor Snape was right when he said you’re older and wiser than us. If you think I should go to Ravenclaw, then I’ll go to Ravenclaw.”

    Hermione smiled as she went to join the table of scholars in the making. She was looking forward to learning as much as she could.

---

    “Greengrass, Daphne!”

    Daphne walked towards the Sorting Hat with just as much confidence as her cousin, if not more, though she also had a bit of curiosity as to what had taken Granger so long.

    “Hello, Heiress. Let’s see… you want Slytherin, yes?”

    “That is where I believe I’d do best, but I’d be remiss not to see what insight you have to offer.” Daphne thought.

    “Well, lucky for you I agree, but if you wish I’ll explain my reasoning, and we can compare notes. You’ve been raised by a Slytherin, pureblood mother to be another Slytherin, pureblood mother. Which is not a bad thing, and will give you a leg up in your new house, but I can see that you want to be more than a broodmare, for a couple of reasons, and Slytherin will help you with that.”

    “Okay. And just to make sure, you won’t tell anyone that… you know.”

    “No dearie, I won’t tell anyone how pretty you think girls are.” the hat said knowingly, and Daphne went to join her new house with a faint blush that was noticed by nobody except Tracey.

---

    “Longbottom, Neville!”

    Neville felt like the whole hall could see how nervous he was, and he tried to be discreet about wiping his sweaty palms as he walked up to the hat.

    “Well, Heir Longbottom. You’re an interesting case, aren’t you?”

    “Uh, hi, I’m supposed to be in Gryffindor, I think? That’s what Gran said, that I should be like my parents.”

    “If you really want to, Neville, I won’t stop you, but will you please hear me out before you decide?”

    “Um, okay.”

    “I think we can agree that Slytherin is out, as is Ravenclaw, although you could make it there eventually. Which leaves Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Now, you could certainly do well in either. You have the unshakeable loyalty of Helga herself, and will work hard when motivated. But you also have the heart of a true Gryffindor. Only, that heart is hidden by layers of doubt and insecurity. I think you will grow into a fine young man either way. But I also know that Gryffindors can be just as cruel and prejudiced as Slytherins. I believe if you join Hufflepuff, you will grow strong and confident because of your housemates’ support, whereas if you join Gryffindor, you will grow strong and confident in spite of your housemates’ jeers.”

    “I… oh. Wow. That’s a lot. But Gran said I should be like my dad.” Neville thought nervously. 

    “Neville, I sorted your grandmother too, when she was your age. I know she can be hard on you, and might be disappointed in the short term if you decide to join Hufflepuff. But I also know that she will get over it, and she will never stop loving you. You’re an independent young man, with the potential to be a great leader, though I think it will be a while before you believe that. And you will still be you no matter what house you end up in. Hufflepuff is the house of hard work, but there is no shame in taking the easy way when it leads to the same place as the hard one.”

    Neville was quiet for a long time, and the hat let him think. “Well, Gran always told me to respect my elders, and you’re a lot older than her. Hufflepuff it is.”

---

    “Malfoy, Draconius!”

    Draco sneered at the Longbottom boy taking his seat as he walked towards the hat. Honestly, what had taken him so long, he was the huffliest Hufflepuff ever to puff!

    “Slytherin, please.” he thought as he set the hat on his head.

    “Could I convince you to at least listen to why I think that might be a bad idea?”

    Draco hesitated, remembering his godfather’s words, but then he imagined the looks of fury and disappointment that would be on his father’s and mother’s faces, respectively, if he was anywhere other than Slytherin. “No. It has to be Slytherin.”

    “Very well.” Sighed the hat. “I do hope this is one of the cases where I’m wrong.”

    Draco felt worried for a moment and was tempted to ask the hat what that meant, but then McGonagall started reading off the next name and Draco was hurrying towards his new house, trying to ignore the seed of doubt that had been planted in his mind.

---

    “Patil, Padma!”

    Padma walked towards the hat, all the more curious after it had evidently changed the Longbottom Heir’s mind.

    “Hmm, curiosity, what a quintessentially Ravenclaw first impression.” the hat mused as Padma put it on. 

    “I’m fine with Ravenclaw. Anything but Gryffindor, really.”

    “Are you sure? You’ve got a fire in your heart that is rarely seen outside of the lion’s den. But also a badger’s loyalty. And a snake’s cunning, though not its coldness. You’re another one who could do well in any house. But I think like her you’re also best suited for Ravenclaw.”

    “Ravenclaw, then.” Padma said with a smile, and went to sit next to the nice Granger girl from the boat.

---

    “Patil, Parvati!”

    Parvati felt dismayed as she walked towards the sorting hat. Dismayed and betrayed. She had been so certain she was going to be in Gryffindor with her sister! How could she just go and join the nerd house?

    “Do you want to talk about it, hon?” asked the hat as she put it on. “We don’t have to talk about your sorting immediately as long as it gets done eventually.”

    “I just… I thought we were on the same page. I thought we were gonna stick together. And she knew how much I wanted to be in Gryffindor! I just… I feel betrayed. And it hurts.”

    “I’ve seen a lot of twins come through here, sweetie, and this isn’t the first time something like this has happened, far from it. So I’ll tell you what I’ve told all of them: some twins go into the same house. Some don’t. It doesn’t mean they don’t love each other, it just means they’re different people who need different things. For example, I think you’ll do great in Gryffindor, but Padma’s patience would wear thin very quickly. You know how she likes her peace and quiet, and Gryffindor Tower has a lot of things, but peace and quiet is never one of them.”

    “What about the Weasley twins? Arnav says they’re really happy in Gryffindor together.”

    “They are indeed, but you and Padma are the Patil twins, not the Weasley twins. And not even identical twins are the same person. There are differences between all twins. You like strawberry ice cream, while Padma prefers mint chocolate chip. You would rather talk about boys while she would rather read a book about magical Mexico. You would do best in Gryffindor, while she will thrive in Ravenclaw. It’s nothing personal, she still loves you.”

    “Won’t she be lonely in Ravenclaw, with me and Arnav in Gryffindor?”

    “I’m sure she’ll miss you and your brother sometimes, but she can make her own friends. And you’ll still be able to see each other, students only have to sit with their house for feasts.”

    “Really? Okay!” said Parvati, relieved. “So you said I’d be good in Gryffindor?”

    “Yes, you’ve got that bravery in spades, you’ll do well there.”

    “Okay! Thank you! And… thanks for talking to me about Padma. It still hurts, but… less.”

    “Glad to help, hon.”

---

    “Potter, Harriet!”

    Harriet hid a smirk when the Great Hall went silent as she walked out. Then the whispering began as she put the hat on.

---

    Albus Dumbledore desperately wished he was privy to what discussion the hat was having with Miss Potter. He was sorely tempted to use a light legilimency probe to listen in, but it was entirely possible that Snape and/or the hat would notice, and it was entirely possible that the hat would alert Harriet to any intrusion. So much as it annoyed him, all the headmaster could do was sit and wait.

---

    The Sorting Hat felt Harriet place it on her head, and then suddenly it found itself sitting on the stone floor of a corridor not dissimilar to those of Hogwarts. At the end of the corridor was a door with fourteen padlocks, and behind the hat was a door with one. The sides of the hallway were lined with doors, seven on each side, and each had a symbol on it. Then the door with fourteen locks opened and Harriet slipped through, shutting the door firmly behind her.

    “Well girl, I’m impressed. I’ve been in the sorting business for nearly a thousand years now, and this is the first time someone’s had the occlumency barriers at age 11 to keep me out!”

    “Why thank you. Now, I’ve been told you can offer me some valuable insight, but before I give you access to my mind, I need a promise that you will not tell anyone anything you see in there.”

    “Darling, I don’t say anything unless you know something that presents a threat to yourself or others.”

    “That’s not good enough. I could be a threat to anyone in the castle if they piss me off. Including you.”

    For the first time in its existence, the hat felt truly afraid. Not concerned, or sorry, but the hat realized its life (if it could even be considered living) was in danger. “Very well.” the hat said. “I won’t look in your mind, or tell anyone about your occlumency barriers or that you think you’re a threat to people, since the former doesn’t threaten anybody and the latter I have no proof of. I can’t give you as good advice as I usually do, but we can still have a nice little chat here.”

    “I agree, you seem interesting. Although I already know which house I need.”

    “Really? What would that be?”

    “Hufflepuff, if you please. I suspect if you could see in my mind you’d recommend Slytherin, which I agree would be the natural choice, but the fact of the matter is that our dear headmaster has an alarming interest in me, and I need him to continue to underestimate me and see me as a tool that doesn’t think for itself.”

    “Well, it won’t be the first time I’ve sent a snake to the badger’s den. And I wasn’t planning on telling you this, but here’s a couple of tidbits I think you’ll find interesting. Albus Dumbledore tried to convince me to put you in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. And he bet five galleons on you being a badger.”

    “Interesting. What were the other bets?”

    “Professor Snape put five on you being a Slytherin, and McGonagall had five on Ravenclaw.”

    “Fascinating. I’ll have to apologize to them. It’s been wonderful talking to you, even if I can’t trust you as much as I’d hoped. Until we meet again!” then the girl took a key that had been hung around her neck on a simple leather cord and put it in the door with only one lock, before unceremoniously tossing out the hat.

    The hat found itself being put down in a hesitantly clapping great hall. Harriet skipped happily towards the Hufflepuff table. But she turned and smiled towards the hat and the staff table, and though it looked happy and kind, the Sorting Hat had been around the block a few times, and did not miss the underlying promise of danger that the grin held.

---

    Severus Snape also failed to miss the threat in the grin Harriet shot the sorting hat. He knew in that moment that Harriet’s sorting had been one of a kind. He wondered if the Headmaster would let him bring the hat back to his office.

---

    “Weasley, Ronald!”

    Ron Weasley walked up to the Sorting Hat, very relieved that all he had to do was try on a stupid hat. In retrospect, he felt a little silly for having believed the twins about the troll. I mean, it was the twins . 

    “Ah, another Mister Weasley. Oh, you didn’t like that did you?” 

    “I’m not just another Weasley! I’m gonna be better than all of them!”

    “I see.” said the hat. “So Slytherin then?”

    “What? No! Gryffindor!” Ron said indignantly.

    “You are eager to prove yourself, so eager. You lack that cunning, but that’s something that can be learned. And you have a cruel streak that will earn you respect.”

    “I’m not cruel! I’m not some evil Slytherin! Put me in Gryffindor!”

    “Hmm, such a temper. Perhaps Gryffindor would be better for you. Lions can be just as cruel as snakes. And you certainly wouldn’t have so many… cultural conflicts. Yes, very well, Gryffindor it is.”

    Ron walked towards the red and gold banner with turmoil in his heart. How had the hat even considered making him a slimy snake?

---

    “Zabini, Blaise!”

    Blaise shot a grin towards Tracey and Daphne as he became the last student to don the sorting hat, until next year.

    “Heir Zabini, a pleasure to meet you! Congratulations on being the first of your house to attend Hogwarts!”

    “Thank you, ah, hat?”

    “Hat is fine. Now, where to put you. Hmm, you’ve been trained in skills that will serve you well in Slytherin, and you know it, yet I still sense doubt. Care to tell the ol’ Sorting Hat what’s on your mind?”

    “I know I’m smart, and charming, and funny, and will probably be pretty hot when I’m older. Also, I’m humble. But… I know my mother probably thought the same things when she was my age. I know if she’d gone to Hogwarts she would’ve been a Slytherin. And I don’t want to be her. She’s… terrifying. Never to me, she’s always been perfectly polite to me, yet uncaring and distant. But I’m always scared that one day it’ll be my drink she’s slipping poison into rather than my latest step-father.”

    “I see.” said the Hat. “Blaise, do you care about people?” 

    “Yes! Of course! I love Tracey and Daphne, and even my mom, though sometimes I wish I didn’t. And those girls I met on the train seemed nice, and-”

    “That’s why you won’t be like your mother, Blaise. You may be charming and manipulative, but you will never look at people like chess pieces who serve no other purpose than to give you what you want. If your mother was raised in the same circumstances you were, she would have no compunctions about following in her mothers footsteps. So now that we have that out of the way, will you let me put you in Slytherin?”

    “...yes. Thank you, hat. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

    “It’s what I do, dearie.”

Chapter Text

“Harriet, why is there a coffin by your bed?” Susan asked as the Hufflepuff first years unpacked their things in their dorms.

    “And why does it say ‘Do Not Open’?” added Hannah.

    “Oh, that.” Harriet said with a faint blush. “I use it for storage. It’s magic, and much more secure than a trunk.”

    “What do you mean, more secure?” asked Hannah, now sounding rather nervous. 

    “Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous if you don’t go in it.” Harriet said. 

    “So you opening the thing that says ‘Do Not Open’ won’t put any of us in danger?” Susan clarified.

    “Correct. This coffin is… well, it’s a very powerful artifact that I will admit is normally fairly malicious, but I swear that as long as you don’t try to mess with my stuff it poses no threat to you.”

    “...that’s not as reassuring as you seem to think it is.” said Hannah.

    “Harriet, is this thing legal?” added Susan.

    “It’s not illegal! Not explicitly legal, but most things aren’t.”

    “...as long as we’re safe.”

---

    Dear Mother

    I’m happy to tell you that I am now a member of Slytherin house, along with Tracey and Blaise. Things are progressing slowly but surely with Harriet. We partner together in Charms (almost all of our classes are with the Gryffindors, unfortunately, we only have Herbology with the Ravenclaws and Charms with the ‘puffs) and she seems really nice. I hear from a mutual friend of ours in Ravenclaw, a muggleborn we met on the train named Hermione Granger, that she does well in all of her classes. She’s unfailingly friendly with everyone, although perhaps that is to be expected from a Hufflepuff.

    However, there are a few curious things I’ve noticed. I heard a couple of the other Hufflepuff girls whispering something about her having a cursed coffin in their dorm. She twirls her wand sometimes when Flitwick is lecturing, and I swear sometimes her fingers twist and contort in unnatural ways. She’s also incredibly perceptive, she has on multiple occasions greeted me by name before I’ve even turned the corner to see her. I have no idea how she does it, if she didn’t seem perfectly sane I would say she’s a Seer. And sometimes her smiles are more like those pictures of Bellatrix Lestrange than her normal smile. However, most notable is that she seems to be an EXTREMELY powerful witch. In our first practical Charms class, while I was trying to get my wand to light up, her Lumos nearly blinded the class. On her first attempt. There hasn’t been another incident like that, thankfully, but she’s always the second, or occasionally third, to master a new spell. I suspect she’s holding back significantly. However, I have no idea why she would want to appear to be merely above average. I mean, clearly she wants someone to underestimate her, but I have no clue who. My best guess is she’s doing this out of kindness to try and not discourage the others.

    One other piece of news you might be interested in- Dumbledore is teaching Defense this year. Officially, it’s one Professor Quirrell, but nobody has seen him since before the term started. The Headmaster is a surprisingly good teacher, although maybe it shouldn’t be that surprising since he was a Transfiguration professor. 

    I’ll write you a longer letter later about personal things, I’m going to try and get this sent off before dinner. 

Much love,

Daphne

    Ophelia Greengrass smiled as she read her daughter’s letter/report. She was glad that Daphne seemed to actually like the Potter girl as a friend. Perhaps even more, if Daphne taking such notice of the girl’s hands and smile were any indication. 

    But there was definitely something off about the Potter girl. Cheating death as a baby and disappearing from under the nose of the oh-so-great Albus Dumbledore. Bringing a cursed coffin to Hogwarts. Some sort of unusual way of sensing things (she, personally, did not dismiss the Seer idea as easily as Daphne did. Pandora Lovegood had seemed perfectly normal until she was spouting a prophecy.) and a smile that sometimes turned unhinged. And a blinding Lumos . Yes, Harriet Potter was an enigma, and one that Ophelia looked forward to unravelling.

---

    “Hello, Headmaster.” said a middle aged Latina woman walking out of the Department of Mysteries as he was entering. Albus nodded distractedly, running over the incantation in his head again. It was a complex charm, bordering on a ritual based solely on the length of the incantation. But it was one of the only ways to get information out of a prophecy, aside from the words. When cast on a prophecy orb, it could cause the mist inside to briefly change color. Red if the prophecy could never be fulfilled, green if it had, and unchanged if it was unfulfilled but not incapable of being so. Dumbledore cursed himself for not doing this a decade ago. He had assumed it would be green, or possibly red if they had killed each other at the same time. But now that Harriet was alive and the Stone was stolen, Albus had a sinking suspicion that the prophecy orb he was looking for would not react to the spell.

    He arrived at the correct row in the Hall of Prophecies and began searching for the orb labelled “S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D.” After a few minutes he found it, and he began to cast the spell. He finished the incantation and tapped the orb, hoping that it would turn green but not expecting it to.

    What happened instead was that the fog inside the orb swirled and twisted before turning into an eye with a pitch black iris that was even darker than the pupil. Albus stared at the orb in shock before it began to glow and burst in a shatter of glass.

    That was... unexpected. A wave of his wand vanished the shards of glass, and Dumbledore made his way towards the exit. He was fairly sure he’d said the incantation correctly, though he’d show Minerva and Severus the memory in his pensive and have them double check. It was entirely possible his age was getting to him, although Dumbledore was doubtful.

    “Find what you were looking for?” asked the woman he had passed on his way in. Dumbledore ignored her for a second, before whirling around with his wand drawn as her words sank in. There was no one there. “Doesn’t feel so good to be the one left in the dark, does it Headmaster?” Albus swore he felt her breath on his ear, and he turned again, but was left with nothing but laughter echoing in his ears and more questions than answers.

---

    “One more thing before you all get back to your grading.” Dumbledore said, and Pomona Sprout sighed, because in here experience with Dumbledore, he had a habit of dumping messes in people’s laps and vanishing before they could say no. So Sprout was pleased when all he did (for now) was ask what people’s first impressions of “young Harriet” were.

    “She’s a delight to have in class!” squeaked Flitwick proudly. “I think she’s really inherited her mother’s talent for charms! She’s always one of the first to get the spell down, and is happy to help her friends once she does.”

    “Yes, I’ve noticed her helpfulness in my class too.” Sprout said. “She doesn’t have the natural green thumb that her friend Mister Longbottom does, but she’s always happy to stay behind if I ask for volunteers to help clean up.”

    “How does he get along with the Gryffindors?” he asked. 

    “She tends to stick with her housemates in my class, although she’s worked with Parvati Patil and Faye Dunbar a few times when I had people working in groups of four. Why?”

    “Just curious.” said Dumbledore in a tone that Sprout knew meant there was more at play than mere curiosity. “Although on that subject, how does she get on with the Ravenclaws and Slytherins?”

    “Just fine, in fact she usually partners with Miss Greengrass in my class.” said Flitwick.

    “Yes, she gets along well with the Ravenclaws too, she usually works with Longbottom, Granger, and Padma Patil in my class.” said Minerva.

    “She shares a cauldron with Longbottom in my class, but I have noticed her speaking with Granger and Patil on a few occasions.” Snape said emotionlessly.

    “I see.” said Dumbledore, with the ghost of a frown beneath his beard. “And what are your feelings on the girl, Severus?”

    “She performs perfectly adequately in class.” Snape said stiffly, and Sprout doubted anyone at the table (except probably Trelawny) missed that Snape hadn’t answered the question. For a moment Sprout thought the Headmaster would let things be, but of course he just had to antagonize poor Severus.

    “Yes, but what do you feel about her outside of her academic performance? I know you and James didn’t-”

    “I am well aware of my personal history with her parents, Albus , but she is not her father. She comes to class prepared, is quiet and respectful during lessons, and she has kept Longbottom from destroying his cauldron on at least two occasions already. Her first two essays both received an E. She is an intelligent and studious girl. I feel the same about her as I do about any other student who performs well in my class.”

    The staff meeting was speechless for a moment, for although his words were measuredly lukewarm, that was extremely high praise for someone outside of Slytherin for the potions master. It was almost as if…

    Sprout started laughing. She was fairly certain she had figured out the Headmaster’s game, and Severus had shut him down cold. 

    “Sorry, sorry, just never expected to hear Severus heaping such effusive praise on James’s daughter.” Sprout said, although the smirks that Filius and Minerva shot her told her that the charms and transfiguration professors had also figured it out.

    “Very well then. If nobody else has anything outstanding to say about Harriet, I think we can call this meeting adjourned. Severus, Minerva, if you would please stay after a moment?”

    For a moment Sprout felt a pang of bitterness that she and Filius were not included in the Headmaster’s machinations, but it faded as quickly as it came. She had it on good authority from Poppy that Minerva often made her way down to the hospital wing for a headache cure after her meetings with Severus and Albus.

---

    Severus was seething as he walked out of the Headmaster’s office. He had seen straight through Dumbledore’s questions at the end of the staff meeting. Albus wanted him to hate Potter, and turn him against Slytherins. Snape suspected that even if he had caved to Albus’s pressure and suddenly started despising the girl, she would have figured out that there was something more at play. And it certainly wouldn’t have driven her away from Greengrass, Davis, and Zabini. Hufflepuffs were known for their loyalty and fairness, after all. Although Snape still suspected she was not the young, innocent badger she acted like.

    He walked into his quarters and saw a bottle of elf wine and one of firewhiskey sitting on his coffee table with a note. “Thanks for reminding him people aren’t chess pieces. Let us know if he gives you too much trouble.”

    Snape smiled. He would still prefer not to be teaching dunderheads at all, but at least he could count on support from his fellow heads of house.

---

    Harriet Potter sighed as she looked at the note Professor McGonagall had given her requesting for her to meet with the Headmaster. She considered her options. She could refuse, but that would blow a gaping hole in her dumb little Hufflepuff act. She could accept, but Dumbledore would almost certainly try to use legilimency on her, and she didn’t want to tip her hand to the Headmaster just yet. How to… ah, of course, her old fallback with Mister Michael: Blame Mister Wright.

    “Professor?”

    “Yes dear?”

    “Well, the Headmaster wants me to meet with him tonight, but Mister Wright said I’m not to be alone with Professor Dumbledore. He says Dumbledore is bad, which I don’t get, he seems so nice! But I don’t want to upset Mister Wright if he finds out.”

    “Of course, child.” McGonagall said with a frown. “I’ll see you tonight.” she paused. “Would you be alright if I asked Professor Snape to come along as well?”

    “The more the merrier!” replied Harriet with a grin that would have likely gotten a raised eyebrow from Professor Snape. But McGonagall, smart as she was, did not have the plentiful experience in dealing in lies that Snape did, and so the grin was interpreted as legitimate happiness to see the head of Slytherin.

---

    “Harriet my girl, thank you for taking the time to see me.” Albus said as she sat down, before frowning as Minerva and Severus sat down on either side of her. “Minerva, Severus, thank you for leading her here but this is not a conversation I require your presence for.”

    “Actually Headmaster, I believe it is.” Snape drawled. “See, one of Miss Potter’s guardians has requested that you not be left alone with her.” And I can’t blame him, was the unspoken message on Snape’s face.

    “Surely you don’t feel this is necessary, Harriet?” Albus asked, despite receiving scowls from Minerva and Severus.

    “No sir, you seem very nice and Mr. Wright wouldn’t explain why, but he was very clear about this, and I wouldn’t want to disobey him after all he’s done for me.”

    Albus sighed. He wouldn’t be able to actually cast Legilimens then, but if Severus was out of the way he could probably do a light probe. “Very well then. You can stay Minerva, but I’m afraid I must ask young Harriet some personal questions and I’m sure she’d prefer to have her privacy as intact as possible.”

    “Actually” said Minerva, and Albus barely even avoided groaning “I have to oversee a detention. You know how those Weasley twins are. Hence why I brought along Severus.” 

    Damnit. He hated being outmaneuvered. “If young Harriet is comfortable with it…” he said reluctantly.

    “Of course! Professor Snape is cool! (Albus noted with a considerable degree of amusement how Snape seemed to wince at being called ‘cool’) He gave this cool speech in the first class about like, bottling fame and death and stuff! And we’re not there yet, obviously, but it’s still really neat!”

    “Well, that was an enthusiastic yes if I’ve ever heard one. I’ll be taking my leave then. Ta, Albus!” and Dumbledore cursed to himself as Minerva waltzed out with a mischievous grin on her face.

    “So, um, Headmaster, I’m not in trouble, am I?” Harriet asked, suddenly nervous.

    “No, no, of course not dear. In fact, I’ve heard nothing but praise from your professors. Even Severus here, and he is not an easy man to please. No, I asked you here because I’m afraid I have a few questions I need answered about your upbringing. Are you aware of how your birth parents died?”

    “Yes sir.” she said quietly. “M-Mister Wright said that a- a bad wizard killed him and he tried to kill me but it didn’t work. He told me the wizard’s name but he- he said it makes people uncomfortable just hearing the name so I should call him You-Know-Who.”

    “I see. Do you have any idea why Voldemort wasn’t able to kill you?”

    “No sir, sorry. I mean, I was just a baby, I can’t even remember it. I was actually hoping you might have some idea, everyone says you’re really smart.”

    “That’s quite alright dear. I would have been quite surprised if you had, you were, after all, just a baby. And as for if I have any idea, I have a few theories for how it might have occurred, but no evidence to back any of them. Now, can you tell me more about your guardians? I understand your living situation is rather… unusual.”

    “Yeah, it’s unusual, but I like it! Let’s see, you already met Mister Wright, he’s really smart! He acts kinda grumpy sometimes but I know he cares. Kinda like Professor Snape, actually.”

    “I will strenuously deny any accusations of caring until the day I die.” said Snape in a monotone voice, causing Albus to roll his eyes.

    “Sure professor. Anyways, there’s Miss Harvey, she’s also really smart. She’s one of the people who lives with me most of the time. Mister Michael is the other person who lives with me, he’s probably not as smart as Mister Wright or Miss Harvey but he’s suuuuuuper nice and he’s a really good cook! Uncle Al is really funny, and he’s a wizard! He taught me how to control my magic and play music. He says maybe one day I’ll be as good as him!”

    Dumbledore froze. “This Uncle Al… he wouldn’t happen to be Alfred Grifter, would he?”

    “Yeah! He’s got a rock band called Grifter’s Bone! He says I’m not old enough to go to any of his concerts, though.”

    “He’s not wrong.” muttered Severus, and Albus strongly agreed. He’d never been, but he’d heard stories…

    “Anyway, there’s also Auntie Agnes, she’s really nice too even though she sometimes has trouble expressing it. Miss Gertrude said she had a ‘bad childhood’ and I shouldn’t ask about it. Miss Gertrude is really smart too, although I don’t see her too much, I don’t think she gets along with any of my other guardians except for Auntie Agnes.”

    Interesting. Albus might have to try and get in contact with this Gertrude.

    “Then there’s my grandpas, Grandpa Fairchild and Grandpa Trevor. They like taking me on trips, Grandpa Fairchild takes me flying and Grandpa Trevor likes taking walks in the woods or around London. Grandpa Trevor also taught me how to fight like a muggle in case I can’t use magic. Then there’s Mister Dekker, he’s a squib and he taught me how to be polite to magical people and stuff. Nikki is more like a big sister, I think, she taught me how to do makeup really good! I can make myself look like a clown!”

    Albus and Severus both got a certain tension in their posture as they remembered Minerva’s account of a clown-monster who threatened to skin her.

“And everyone else I don’t see as often, they’re more like tutors. Miss Dominguez teaches me maths- she’s another really smart one, she does space science for her job! Mr Haan taught me biology- that’s how animals work. Plants too, but Mr Haan always found animals more interesting.”

“I see. Well, as long as you’re safe. None of them have ever hurt you, or… touched you?”

“What do you- oh. No, no, no, none of them are like that! They would never do anything that wasn’t for my own good, even the ones I’m not as close too!”

“I’m sorry my girl, you understand I just have to make sure you’re entirely safe. Now, one more thing before we head along to dinner. Mister Wright never sent over any sort of medical records for you, and I think it would be best to have Madam Pomfrey give you an examination rather than trouble Mister Wright for it.”

“Okay! Sounds good! Do you know what’s for dinner?”

---

    Harriet was enjoying breakfast in the Great Hall a few weeks later (eating breakfast with her Slytherin friends at their table just to stress a few weeks off the Headmaster’s life) when a large, two-headed owl landed on her plate and offered her a letter. She was about to offer them a “tip” in the form of some of her bacon like she had seen other kids with owls do, but the two heads just nodded at her before they flew off.

    “Was that a two-headed owl?” asked Tracey in shock.

    “Yup.” Daphne sighed. “First she brings a cursed coffin and now this. Honestly Harriet, why do you have to be so dramatic ?”

    “First of all, how do you know about the coffin?” Harriet asked Daphne, who blushed as she realized her blunder. “Second of all, the coffin isn’t cursed, or at least it isn’t right now. Well, depends on your definition of cursed, I suppose.” she continued as she opened the envelope.

    “As long as you’re safe. Also, not to be nosy, but what kind of letter is that?” asked Blaise from beside her.

    “It’s the kind of letter that’s written in an extinct Siberian language. Must be from Mister Wright.”

    “Why would he send you a letter you can’t read?” asked Daphne. 

    “I said the language was extinct, not that I couldn’t read it. Mister Wright and I share a talent for languages.” Harriet said as she began to read.

    Dear Harriet

    First of all, the owl that delivered this is a gift for you from Miss Orsinov. She says they are called Breekon and Hope. I have no clue which head is which, nor does the Eye. I expect you to be a responsible pet owner, although I suspect that Breekon and Hope are much more independent than the average magical owl; I’m fairly sure they are the delivery men who brought you the coffin.

    Anyways, as for the main reason I am writing this letter. The Eye has informed me of a few things. First is that the Headmaster intends to test you in a few days. He has not yet decided how, but he seems to plan to pit you against some sort of monster. I trust your judgement and your ability to handle the situation appropriately.

    Second, and much more worrying, is that Voldemort has acquired the Philosopher’s Stone and will be resurrecting himself imminently. I know we had planned on waiting on making any moves to finish Voldemort until you had completed your education, but this may force us to move up our timetable. As such, I’m going to review the contents of Artifact Storage for anything that might be of use to you, and Simon has told me he will acquire anything useful Salesa might have. Therefore, do NOT open any packages Breekon and Hope bring you until you are sure you are alone. Also, your training will pick up in intensity over the summer.

    Third, Professor Quirrell will be returning soon. Do not trust him. He was possessed by Voldemort, and has sworn allegiance to him. I do not know if Dumbledore will allow him to take up his post, but given he seems to keep his friends and enemies alike in his employ, it seems likely he will.

    And in regards to your last letter, well done. You handled that situation perfectly. As I said, keep the suspicion on me and the other adults as long as possible. I’m proud of you.

    -James Wright, Director of the Magnus Institute, London.

Chapter Text

    “Hmm… there’s nothing outstanding here.” said Dumbledore as he, Snape, and McGonagall read through their copies of Madam Pomfrey’s medical report on Harriet Potter.

    “If I didn’t know better, Albus, I’d say you sound disappointed.” McGonagall said, her eyes flashing dangerously.

    “Of course not.” Dumbledore said unconvincingly. 

    “I do agree with you that nothing here is out of the ordinary.” said Snape. “But I will point out something: I have never heard of a skull-shaped curse scar. Therefore, I think it would be prudent to consider running more specialized tests to make sure there are no lingering effects from the scar that Poppy missed.”

    “That does sound prudent. Would you be able to perform the tests?”

    “No, for a couple of reasons, but I know someone who could. You won’t even hate it.”

---

    Fuck, thought Ron as he ran through the halls, he was going to be SO late for Potions. Stupid moving staircases. Stupid twins with their bad directions. Stupid him for trusting the twins’ directions. At this point maybe it would be better to ditch than face Snape’s wrath.

    Opening a door he was fairly sure would lead to the dungeons, he froze as he looked at the room within. It was filled with those manny-kins that were on the muggle side of St. Mungos, and some of them were covered in that powder dad said muggles used instead of glamors, forming unnerving faces that were almost human looking but fell just short. He noticed that all the manny-kins were facing a single chair in the center of the room.

    He walked towards it and sat down out of curiosity. Nothing happened, to his disappointment. Then he blinked and narrowed his eyes. Had they moved? He blinked again and his blood ran cold. They had definitely moved; that one had been balanced on its left foot before, now it was on its right.

    Ron was a proud Gryffindor, but Ron had heard too many stories from his father of people whose lives were lost or ruined by messing around with unknown artifacts, and Bill’s tales of macabre curses on ancient tombs. Plus, these overgrown dolls were just plain creepy. He stood up and walked quickly out of the room, not looking back and being very careful not to touch anything.

    He was definitely ditching Potions.

---

    “Well met Heiress Potter, I am Mrs. Andromeda Tonks.” said a soothing voice as Harriet stepped out of the floo. It had been her first trip through the floo system, and Harriet was fairly sure that the design or mechanics had some sort of Spiral or Stranger influence, it was too damn disorienting not to, though fortunately she had developed an excellent sense of balance and overall awareness of where her body was due to trial and error during the many hours she’d spent in close proximity to Nikola.

    “Well met Mrs. Tonks.” said Harriet with a curtsey, already curious about this woman who dressed, spoke, and carried herself like a pureblood aristocrat but who apparently wasn’t. 

    “Whoever taught you your manners did an excellent job. Now, I am a healer, but I also have significant experience with dark magic, mostly in countering its effects. I’m going to be performing some tests on you. Some of them use ritual magic, and some of the more extreme tests may require you or I to be partially or fully naked. If you are ever at any point uncomfortable, let me know and we’ll stop immediately, okay?”

    “Okay.” said Harriet shyly. She wasn’t particularly opposed to nudity- she had spent too much time with Nikola and Mister Haan to see skin or flesh as anything particularly sacred- but she assumed Mrs. Tonks would be reporting everything to the Headmaster, and it might be seen as unusual for her to be too comfortable with nudity, so she said “Can we maybe not do any of the naked magic unless we have more of a reason than ‘there might be something wrong’?”

    “Of course dear. That’s perfectly reasonable. Now, these first few might be familiar from when Poppy probably cast them on you, but it’s good for me to get a baseline…”

---

    “I’ve never seen anything like it!” said Andromeda, and Snape was confused by her excitement. 

    “How so? Should I be worried?”

    “Quite the opposite, in fact! It seems to actually be a benevolent curse scar!”

    “What? I’m sorry, I must have misheard you, did you say a benevolent curse scar?”

    “Believe me, I’m shocked too!” said Andromeda. “It’s unprecedented, in multiple ways! Not only is it a benevolent curse scar, but it seems to protect her from magic that is solely intended to cause death, and does so by drawing from a power the likes of which I’ve never felt before!”

    Snape was quiet for a few moments. “That… is extremely worrying.”

    “How so? I mean, it’s definitely weird, but I can’t detect any malicious effects on the girl, and I did everything short of the rituals that require nudity.”

    “It’s worrying because if it’s drawing power from something else and granting a powerful protection, it’s probably not actually a curse scar, but something masquerading as one. This sounds more like an unknown magical parasite.”

    “...oh.”

    “Yes, ‘oh’. Merlin, I have no idea what to do here.” Snape groaned.

    “I think, given your parasite theory, I’m going to try and convince her to do the more intense rituals, though I’ll respect it if she says no. She doesn’t seem to be in any imminent danger. But this is definitely worrying.”

---

    Dumbledore was silent as he stood, disillusioned, in the back corner of the Charms classroom as Filius finished up his lesson for the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. A quick, silent compulsion on Draco had him loudly belittling the Bulstrode girl for her size, and another compulsion on Millicent had her running off towards the rarely used East Garden in tears.

    He smiled as Harriet shot a glare at Draco before exchanging a few words with Daphne, Tracey, Blaise, and Neville and running off after Millicent. Interesting, an independent one. Of course, she didn’t know that Millicent would be in danger, and it was entirely possible that she had simply not wanted to overwhelm Millicent, who Albus had picked for being a bullied loner. It would be quite out of character for any of Harriet’s friends to go running off in tears.

    Dumbledore was silent as he followed Harriet towards where Millicent was crying in the garden. Then he had the imperiused mountain troll that had been waiting just out of sight of the two girls lumber into view with a mighty roar.

---

    Fuck, thought Harriet. This must be the test she’d been warned about. She’d thought it’d be more of a moral quandary than a combat situation! At least she knew why he was stalking her when she left Charms; setting a troll on her was actually one of the least suspicious reasons for an old man to turn himself invisible to follow an eleven year old girl around. She’d known he was there of course, a disillusionment charm was not nearly enough to hide from the Eye, and besides, hunting with Grandpa Trevor had sharpened her senses, and Dumbledore hadn’t done anything to mask his scent.

    “Run, Bulstrode!” she shouted, grabbing the shocked girl’s arm and dragging her towards one of the four doors leading into the courtyard. She was disappointed but not surprised to find the door locked. She shrieked as she ducked a swipe from the troll’s club, although the degree to which the beast had telegraphed the attack, combined with the distinct webbiness of the troll’s dim mind, confirmed to her that the Headmaster had it under the Imperious Curse. Not technically illegal, since he didn’t use it on a human, but definitely not a good look for the Leader of the Light, especially given what he was using it for.

    Fuck it, she decided, hugging the edge of the courtyard as she lined up her shot. “Flipendo!” she shouted, and her knockback jinx knocked the troll’s club out of its hand. And right towards the Headmaster’s invisible form. She heard a crunch and an old man’s scream, and saw his left hand and forearm hanging mangled and limp where it had been mashed between the club and the stone wall.

    “Stupefy!” he shouted, and she had to admit that the Headmaster had impressive aim despite his injury as the spell hit the troll in its eye, causing it to collapse unconscious. 

    “Is it clear?” shouted Bulstrode.

    Pinching her nose, Harriet kicked the troll in the shins. “Yeah, it’s down!” she replied when it did not stir. “Come on Headmaster, let’s get you to the hospital wing.”

---

    Poppy Pomfrey thought had seen it all when it came to being the Hogwarts healer. Between the Marauders, the Weasley twins, and Severus’s… less than proactive approach to potions lab safety, she had seen all sorts of people in all sorts of situations. One thing she had not seen, however, was two first years dragging in Albus Dumbledore, his left arm severely mangled and bleeding everywhere.

    She quickly cast scanning spells on Dumbledore and sighed. “Well Albus, I don’t know what the he- what the heck you’ve gotten yourself into, but your arm’s properly mangled. I’ve got to vanish the bones and regrow them.”

    “Poppy, surely you can-”

    “Don’t ‘Poppy’ me! I’m good, but your radius is in five pieces and you could have permanent nerve damage if I don’t do this right!” She said as she silently cast spells to stop the bleeding. “Now lay down and take the sleeping potion or so help me Merlin I will stun you! You may be my boss but right now you are my patient!” 

Poppy was pleased to see that while he hesitated, Dumbledore was not so stupid/senile/delerious from blood loss as to try and question her in her domain. “Very well. Children, please speak of this to no one until I’ve had an opportunity to debrief you.” he said before chugging the potion and quickly nodding off.

“Excellent. Now, I know what the Headmaster just said, but I do need you to tell me what happened so that I’ll know if there are going to be any complications with the Headmaster’s treatment.”

Harriet decided to take the lead, since she had noticed that Bulstrode didn’t seem to like talking to authority figures very much. Also, she looked forwards to raising as many uncomfortable questions for Dumbledore as she could. “Well, it started right as Charms class was letting out. Heir Malfoy said something to Scion Bulstrode that probably wasn’t very pleasant, since she ran away crying. I was worried, so I ran after her. I found her in one of the more remote courtyards, and we talked for a moment before there was this awful smell and a mountain troll attacked us! We tried to run but the doors were locked, so I figured our best option was to try and fight it. I cast a knockback jinx at the troll’s club to try and disarm it and I think my magic must have felt how scared I was because it was really strong, and it went flying across the courtyard. Only instead of hitting the wall, we heard this awful crunch and Dumbledore was there all of a sudden, and the club had crushed his arm! Then he shot a stunning spell at the troll’s eye and we brought him here.”

“Miss Potter, I have never heard a more unbelievable lie in my life. Try again.”

“It’s true, ma’am. The troll should still be there, in the East Courtyard.” Bulstrode said quietly, and Poppy let out an exasperated sigh. She scrawled a quick note to Flitwick, whose office and classroom were closest, and with a tap of her wand it folded itself into a paper airplane and soared off. 

“Listen girls, I know you don’t want to get in trouble, but lying to me is never a good idea. As a healer, my primary goal is to ensure the well-being of my patients, and I can’t do that if I don’t know what happened to them. Headmaster Dumbledore doesn’t seem to have any complications, but-”

Poppy paused her lecture as a bright red origami crane flew into the hospital wing and unfolded itself. “Poppy, why the FUCK is there an unconscious mountain troll in the East Courtyard?” said the voice of Professor Flitwick in something between a squeak and a shout.

“You girls never heard that.” Poppy said as the girls giggled at the sound of a professor swearing. “But he does raise a VERY good question.” she said with a glare at the unconscious form of the Headmaster. “You girls may go. Please fetch Professor McGonagall and your heads of house, I suspect Professor Flitwick is already on his way.”

---

    “Do you want to go out to the Greenhouses for Professor Sprout and I can get Professors Snape and McGonagall?” Potter suggested once they had left the Hospital Wing.

    “Sure, but first I wanna know: How did you know Dumbledore was there?” Millicent asked suspiciously. 

    “Scion Bulstrode, I had no idea Professor Dumbledore was there! What ever would make you think that?” Potter replied. Her voice was concerned and her frown was confused, but Millicent could see a satisfied glint in her eye.

    “You waited to cast your jinx, I’m guessing until the club would hit Dumbles, or at least spook him. And your eyes kept flickering between the troll and something I couldn’t see.”

    Potter was silent for a moment, and Millicent suddenly got the feeling that she was dealing with much more than a first year who could see through a very strong disillusionment charm. “Keen observations, Scion Bulstrode. I would ask that you keep them and any hypotheses you might have made based on them to yourself. While your observations are mere coincidence and surely tainted by the stressful situation we found ourselves in, I am currently trying to keep my head down.”

    “And what do I get out of it?” asked Millicent, and she immediately cursed herself as Potter’s face went blank. Then she grinned. “A favor then, within reason. If I can’t do it, I will almost certainly know someone who can.”

    “Can you kill Malfoy?” Millicent asked with a joking grin.

    “I suppose, although I’d really rather not. But a deal’s a deal, would you prefer it looks like an accident or should I send a message?” Potter sighed, while casually examining her nails.

    “Holy shit Potter, I was just joking!” Millicent exclaimed. “Although… I wouldn’t say no to you publicly humiliating him.” She added wryly.

    “Deal. I won’t even count that as your favor. Now we probably should go find the professors.”

---

    “Rennervate.”

    Albus groaned and tried to sit up, only to realize he couldn’t.

    “Easy, Albus. I’ve got you paralyed since you’re still regrowing some bones. But we’ve got a few urgent questions for you.” he heard Poppy say. He looked up and thought some very rude words. In addition to Poppy, all the heads of house were sitting around him, and their expressions ranged from a “neutral frown” on Severus’s face to the “barely restrained torrent of Scottish swearing” on Minerva’s. 

    “Ah. I see the girls disregarded my gag order, then?” he said, quickly channeling his “disappointed grandfather” face.

    “They did so at my command, Albus!” Poppy said, and it was then that Dumbledore knew Minerva wasn’t the only woman here who was furious at him. Time to go into damage control mode.

    “That’s understandable, I suppose. I just hope they had the good sense not to share this with their classmates.”

    “Given how many students have asked me about you, I’m guessing not.” said Poppy with a smirk that indicated she found the situation much more amusing than Albus did.

    “Unfortunate. Well, I’m sure you’re wondering what exactly happened. The wards alerted me that a mountain troll had somehow gained access to the school. I disillusioned myself so that nobody would be alarmed by me running through the school or attempt to delay me. To my horror, I arrived in the courtyard to see the troll attacking two first years. As I arrived, dear Harriet used an exemplary knockback jinx to disarm the troll, however, the club unfortunately hit me in the arm, hence my current condition. I then stunned the troll and allowed the girls to escort me here.”

    “I see. That’s a lovely story Headmaster, but there’s just a few things that your tale doesn’t explain.” Severus drawled, and Albus felt a twinge of nervousness. “See, Scion Bulstrode was kind enough to allow us to view her memory of this event, and there are a couple of details that don’t line up. For one thing, she did not recall any doors opening to let your invisible self in. For another thing, the troll was displaying some unusual behavior. In fact, it seemed more interested in scaring the girls than actually harming them. And most worrying of all in my mind is the fact that when the girls tried to do the sensible thing and run, the doors were locked.”

    The twinge of nervousness multiplied tenfold. He had not counted on Minerva using her powers as acting Headmistress while he was unconscious to gain access to his pensive. He could explain the doors staying closed and the troll’s unusual behavior, but the doors being locked… he needed time to think, damnit! At least Minerva hadn’t used her authority to check on the wards, if anyone knew he had keyed the troll in he would be ruined.

    “Well, Severus, you know how elastic memories can be. If Miss Bulstrode hadn’t noticed the doors open at the time, they wouldn’t have opened in the memory. She must have been too distracted by the troll. And as for the troll’s unusual behavior, it is possible that the wards of Hogwarts hindered it in some way even if they somehow failed to keep it out. But the doors being locked… that is most troubling. It seems someone in the castle may harbor ill-will towards Miss Potter or Miss Bulstrode.”

    “But who?” gasped Pomona. “I’m not sure…” said Dumbledore, although he already knew who was going to be blamed for it. He knew rehiring Quirrell was a good idea, he’d be the perfect patsy once his connection to Voldemort was known. “I’ll stay conscious but paralyzed until my bones are regrown in case anyone comes up with any other questions or my advice is needed.”

    “If you insist, Headmaster.” said Poppy with a frown. “I’m afraid you might be terribly bored.”

    “That’s a price I’m willing to pay, Poppy. I will do everything I can to protect the students of this school.” he said. And I’ll do everything I can to keep Minerva from checking the ward logs until I can scrub them, he thought.

---

    Severus frowned as he walked back to the dungeons. Albus had failed to reassure him that he was not doing something incredibly foolish. He highly doubted that Scion Bulstrode would have failed to notice an escape route appearing. He suspected that if the troll had been able to get in at all, it would probably not have been inhibited by the wards, although he’d confess wards were not his area of expertise. And well he and Minerva knew of Quirrell’s connection to the Dark Lord, there were already enough inconsistencies in the story to make Severus doubt that Quirrell had anything to do with this.

    That wasn’t why he was frowning though. When he had viewed Bulstrode’s memory, two things had stood out. Potter’s eyes had very obviously been bouncing back and forth between the troll and something invisible, and she had been very precise in her positioning and timing before she cast the spell. Memory was, of course, more malleable than most people realized, and he suspected that Bulstrode remembered those things as being more prominent than they were, but while they were exaggerated, they did not seem to be completely fabricated.

    Which meant Potter had both seen the Headmaster and injured him on purpose. And that was both concerning and fascinating.

---

    “Everyone will write me two feet of parchment on the uses of the various parts of the billwig in potion making, due next week. Potter, stay after a moment. Class dismissed.”

    Harriet watched as the class packed their things and left the dungeon. Hermione shot her a concerned look, but Harriet waved her on. Professor Snape cast an impressive series of privacy charms before turning to Harriet. He paused a moment, as if he knew where he wanted the conversation to go but wasn’t sure how to get it there. He sighed. “Miss Potter… first let me say that I have cast a series of strong privacy spells, so we do not need to worry about being overheard. I think we are both going to be discussing things that neither of us would prefer to leave this place.”

    “O...kay? Is everything alright, Professor?” Harriet asked. Inwards, she was panicking. Was there a loose end with the troll incident? Or had the head of Slytherin somehow realized she was to blame for Malfoy wetting himself in the Great Hall?

    “For now. Where to begin… I suppose let me begin by saying that I have sworn an oath to protect the students of this school, and while I may be a harsh teacher, I take oaths very seriously, so please believe me when I say I am not here to blackmail or extort you.”

    Harriet froze. This was potentially very bad. “Why would you want to blackmail me? And what have I done that you think you could blackmail me with?” she asked, not having to fake the concern in her voice.

    “Scion Bulstrode showed me her memory of the troll incident. I suspect- and I believe she does too- that you saw the Headmaster before his disillusionment fell, and that you shot the trolls club at him deliberately.”

    “Interesting hypothesis, Professor. Millicent came to the same conclusion. But neither of you have any proof, and I would have no reason to confess to injuring the Headmaster if it was true.”

    “I disagree. I may not have hard proof, but I know I’m right. So you can tell me what magical skill or ability you have, and I can attempt to help you hone it, or you can keep your secrets and we won’t speak of it again until I have more information.

    Harriet’s mind was moving a mile a minute, but eventually she came to a decision. She looked up from her lap and looked Professor Snape right in the eyes. She felt nothing against her occlumency barriers.

    “You pass.” she said with a grin. “Very well. There are different kinds of magic, of power. Mister Wright, and most of my other guardians, have access to powers other than wizard magic. It gives them various powers, including a mind that is incredibly difficult for wizards to use legilimency on. Hence why the Headmaster was so disconcerted when he attempted to probe Mister Wright’s mind. He’s just lucky he didn’t try it on Miss Harvey or Nikki, they wouldn’t have let him go.”

    “I… I see. Are your guardians of the Fey Courts then?” asked Professor Snape, his face an ashen grey.

    “Ugh, no! There is actually quite an animosity between our patron and the Fair Folk. Anyways, the point is I have some of these… other powers… and one of the manifestations of them for me is heightened senses. They’re nothing spectacular yet, maybe on par with a werewolf in their human form, but I was able to both see through the Headmaster’s disillusionment charm as well as smell him.”

    “I see…” said Snape, still looking shocked. “Then why did you aim the club at the Headmaster?”

    “Are you going to tell him?” Harriet asked.

    “As I said, this conversation will not leave this room.”

    “I shot it at him because I was fairly certain it wasn’t a coincidence that he was following me while invisible when I just so happened to run into a troll on Hogwarts grounds. Moreover, forcing him to get involved was my best way to deal with the troll without endangering myself or Millicent, or revealing any powers that would raise eyebrows. It’s much more believable for a first year to cast a strong knockback jinx than it is for a first year to cast the killing curse.”

    Harriet openly smirked as Professor Snape made a choking noise. “You- you can cast the killing curse?”

    “Probably. I’ve never tried it before, but I have reason to believe I could. And it’s not like you have any room to judge.” she added, narrowing her eyes. She was satisfied when Snape flinched and clutched his left forearm.

    “I- how did you know about that?”

    “You know how this other force grants my guardians various powers? Mister Wright’s is that he can know a lot of things, and he did VERY thorough background checks on all the staff here. I know all about the skeletons in your closet. But don’t worry, I’m not going to blackmail you either. And besides, being an ex-Death Eater who was in love with my mum is juicy, but you’ve got nothing on the Headmaster. If he’s ever giving you too much trouble, ask him about his sister, or his ex! I could write a book on what Professor Dumbledore doesn’t want anyone else to know about him. But I digress. Is there anything else you wanted to ask me?”

    “You said… you said that the minds of your guardians are resistant to legilimency. Is yours as well?”

    “Quite. I’d rather the Headmaster didn’t find out about that, though I suspect he will sooner rather than later with how nosey he’s being.”

    “I wish you were wrong… very well. You are dismissed. And for what it’s worth, I’m very, very sorry for what I’ve done.”

    “I know professor.” Harriet said, and she gave him a kind smile as she left the room.

---

    Harriet sighed as Dumbledore, once again disillusioned, walked into the Charms classroom. If he had another goddamn troll… 

    No, a compulsion, she thought as it bounced off her occlumency shields. To go exploring in a certain corridor on the third floor. She sighed. Unfortunately, staying under the radar took priority over her homework, so once class was dismissed she headed towards it. Sometimes she wondered if keeping Dumbledore unaware was worth the trouble. She made a show of poking around the abandoned classrooms before she came across what she assumed was what Professor Dumbledore had intended for her to find: a curious mirror that blended arcane magic with aspects of the Web. In fact, she thought as she looked at the backwards writing on the mirror, this was that mirror that had been in Artifact Storage for a while before that dreadful business with Director Bosk being possessed and ‘freeing’ some of the artifacts. She wondered how it had come to end up at Hogwarts.

    She stood in front of it and looked in, because why not? Her Web affinity would prevent her from becoming addicted, and she was sure this was what Dumbledore wanted. She let herself adopt the dull eyes and slack jaw of someone entranced by the mirror, and soon enough, after a few minutes she heard the door open.

    “Ah, Harriet, I see you’ve discovered the Mirror of Erised.” said the Headmaster. “Tell me dear, do you have any idea what it does?”

    “Um, I don’t know. I thought maybe it shows me my parents, but my guardians are there too. Maybe the magic considers them my parents too since they raised me?” Harriet lied, knowing what the Headmaster wanted to hear. She felt a light probe against her occlumency walls and was tempted to drag him into her mindscape, but she had to resist. It was unfortunate, but not catastrophic.

    “Good guess, but no. The mirror of Erised shows us what we most desire.”

    “Oooooooh. That makes sense. What do you see then?” she asked boldly, even though she was certain he would lie. 

    “I see myself with a nice new pair of woolen socks. One can never have too many socks.”

    If Harriet could afford to, she would have rolled her eyes. As it was, she just huffed, crossed her arms, and put on a pout. “If you didn’t want to tell me, you could just say so. I’m eleven, not an idiot.”

    “That’s… fair.” Dumbledore said, looking awkward at being called on his lie. Really, socks? “Anyways, I should inform you that I am going to be moving the mirror, and I would appreciate it if you did not go looking for it. The visions of the mirror are… extremely tempting. Stronger minds than yours have wasted away gazing into the mirror’s depths.”

    “Very well Headmaster. May I go now? I realize this wasn’t a planned meeting, but Mister Wright’s rule…”

    “Of course my dear. Run along now.”

    Harriet was very tempted to make a parting comment about how nonconsensual legilimency is illegal, especially on minors, but she bit her tongue. One day, the Headmaster would realize just how badly he had been duped, and the look on his face would be glorious. She took one last look at the image in the mirror, of her being strong enough with her fear powers to destroy Voldemort, and of her friends accepting her despite them. Then she walked out the door.

Chapter Text

“You’re all free to go once your workspace is completely free of crow feathers.” Professor McGonagall said, only to sigh as half the class ignored her. She was half tempted to be a hardass about it, but honestly it was nothing she couldn’t do with a few vanishing spells once they were gone.

    “Professor?” she heard Miss Potter say, and she looked up from the essay she had started reading to see Harriet cleaning up the rest of the feathers. 

    “Yes Miss Potter?” said McGonagall as she pulled out her wand and wordlessly vanished the remaining feathers.

    “First of all, where would you point me if I wanted to learn that vanishing spell ahead of schedule?” the student asked in awe, causing a rare grin to appear on the professor’s face. “Second, um, well… I have a number of… female influences, and magical influences, but I don’t actually really know any adult witches, and I was wondering… you see, I was invited to attend the Malfoy Yule Ball, and Daphne- Heiress Greengrass- said it would be dreadfully rude not to attend, but I don’t really know what the dress code is for these sorts of things in the magical world, so I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction?”

    Minerva was torn between feeling sorry for Harriet at this painful reminder that Lily would never be able to help her, and proud that she herself had been deemed an acceptable substitute. “Well, wealthier families often know a magical seamstress or tailor they’ll go to for events like this, but failing that, Twilfitt and Tattings does excellent work, for a price. It is also possible that there may be appropriate dresses in the Black or Potter vaults, and from the rumors about your families’ holdings, you should be more than able to find jewelry there. And as for the vanishing spell, it’s in the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, but I learned it from Newman’s Spellcasting and personally find it much better than the SBS. But Headmaster Dumbledore swears by Petrushko’s Removal Methods, although that one is in the Restricted Section. It’s an advanced spell, but I think with practice you could manage it by the end of the year. You’re never first, but your consistently second, and that says more than you might think. Let me know if you have any questions or if you want me to write you a pass to get the Petrushko.”

    “Will do! Thanks Professor!”

---

    “She’s WHAT?” exclaimed Severus, and Minerva couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the gobsmacked expression on his face.

    “Really Severus, she’s the Heiress to two Ancient and Noble Houses, and her political leanings are either unknown or unformed. Lady Malfoy would be an idiot not to invite her, either to shape her or to sound out her positions.”

    “Yes, but you have to realize, as his Godfather and head of house, I’ve been completely inundated with Draco’s whining about her. Honestly, I think he has a crush and doesn’t know it yet, but every Merlin-damned night, I hear about how ‘Potter got the levitation charm before me!’ or ‘How does Potter have more friends than me?’ or ‘Why did you give Potter’s potion an E? That was an A at best!’ I would ban him from my office if I was allowed.”

    Minerva cackled. “Oh, I bet Narcissa didn’t even tell him she invited Potter! Do try and see his face when he realizes she’s there, I would pay a bottle of Ogden’s to see that!”

    A smirk broke across Snape’s face. “If I do get that memory, it’s going to be worth you grading the first years’ first essays of the new term.”

    “Oh fine. And as always, a bottle of the good wine if you can get me a memory of Narcissa being surprised and letting it show.”

    “You know that will never happen.” Snape said amusedly. “But I’ll certainly keep an eye out.”

    “If anyone could shock Lady Malfoy, I would bet on Harriet. Or whoever she brings as her chaperone. Imagine if she brought the clown monster.” Minerva said with a shudder. 

    “Based on what you’ve said about her, I find that highly unlikely. I would bet on Wright or Dekker.”

    “Really? Wright is a muggle and Dekker is a squib. I’m not even sure the Malfoy wards would allow them through.”

    “It’s possible.” Snape conceded. “But I learn from the mistakes of others as well as my own, and the Headmaster has clearly taught me not to underestimate Mister Wright. I have no doubt he could pass as a wizard until wands are drawn.”

    “Interesting ideAHA!” Minerva exclaimed. “THAT’S why Irma said you were checking out all the books on the Fair Folk! You think Wright is one of them !”

    Snape sighed. “No, although you’re on the right track, in that I’m on Wright’s track.” Minerva was almost as shocked by Severus’s wordplay as he was by Potter’s invitation. “As long as you know of my current reading, do you happen to know of any sort of enemies of the Fey?”

    “No, not really.” Minerva said with a frown. “They aren’t too fond of iron or salt, but that’s more of a weakness than an enemy. Why?”

    Severus hummed noncommittally, and Minerva knew he was deciding how much to tell her. “I received… intelligence… that Wright, and probably more of Potter’s guardians, are… something. Something that is neither muggle nor wizard nor squib. My only clue is that they are powerful, and enemies of the Fey. I have a few absolutely tantalizing leads. There are names and titles mentioned in passing. Phobos, The Terrors, The Fourteen Headed Hydra, or just The Fourteen. And one book had a chapter on ‘The Great Enemy’ but it had been removed, and Irma said it had been like that since Hogwarts had acquired it. I have no idea which of those Wright is, or if some of them refer to the same thing, or if they all do, but it’s absolutely infuriating.”

    “I see… have you told Albus about this?”

    “No, and I don’t intend to. He would demand I reveal my source, which I would refuse to do.”

    “Then I shan’t tell him either. Just… be careful, Severus. Nothing good ever comes from interfering in the affairs of the Fey.”

    “Of course, Minerva. I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to try and contact anything.”

    “Good. I need you to get me that memory of Draco, after all.”

---

    “You’re sure you’re ready?” Harriet asked.

    “Yes Harriet. Honestly, I’ve put up with wearing jeans before, wizard robes are nothing.”

    “Hardy har-har. Mister Dekker has okayed you on your etiquette?”

    “Yes Harriet! And besides, I can just ask the eye if I forget. Honestly, if I can convince the likes of Simon and the Lukases to fund me, I can easily convince this party that I’m a wizard.”

    “Okay, okay. I’m just nervous, from what Daphne and Blaise said, this party is not only the classiest event of wizarding Britain, it’s also effectively going to be my debut for the wizarding nobility. If you mess this up for me, I will make you wish I’d only set Agnes on you.”

    “Understood.” James said with a smirk. “Now let’s see if this fireplace thing is as bad as you say.” 

    One pinch of floo powder later, and he decided it was even worse. Nikola would love it. He brushed himself off and watched in awe as Harriet stepped gracefully out of the fireplace. “Practice.” she said with a smirk. “Though I’ll admit my experience in the Corridors was somewhat helpful.”

    James rolled his eyes affectionately and took Harriet’s arm as he walked out of the floo room. They had arrived at the beginning of the time frame that was indicated for arrivals, since James Knew that Lady Malfoy was interested in having a discussion with Harriet. And sure enough…

    “Well met!” called a lovely blonde woman who was striding towards them. “I am Lady Narcissa Malfoy, and you must be Heiress Potter!” she said with a sharp smile that James could appreciate. If anyone was going to see through his ruse, he suspected it would be Lady Malfoy. He made a quick note to ask the Eye for blackmail on her when he had a minute.

    “Well met, Lady Malfoy. I am Heiress Harriet Potter, of the House of Potter and the House of Black. This is my chaperone, Mister James Wright.”

    James caught the briefest flicker of a sneer before Lady Malfoy’s face smoothed over again, presumably because (according to Dekker and Harriet) his introduction had indicated that he was a muggleborn or a muggle. Not that Lady Malfoy would assume he was a muggle, since his manners were far too refined for a barbaric muggle, he thought with amusement. Lady Malfoy whisked Harriet away towards a group of adults, and he had to respect how she had subtly yet firmly indicated that he was not invited along. He could insist, of course, but the Eye had warned him about this and Harriet said it would be best to let it happen. So he turned to survey the Malfoy ballroom, and he had to admit that it was quite impressive. Nearly on par with Buckingham Palace, although James thought he respected the latter more for having been built without the help of magic. Then again, if he could cheat by using the Eye in social situations, could he really blame wizards for using magic to cheat at architecture?

    “Ah, Mister Wright, a pleasant surprise.”

    James knew it was that potions professor before he turned around, but he made sure to take a good look at his face before saying “Yes, Professor Snape, was it?”

    “Indeed. I take it you are here with Heiress Potter?”

    “Of course. I’m afraid Lady Malfoy pulled her away for noble discussions far too important for us peasants to understand.” James said with a smile. Harriet had said she had hinted at his nature to Snape, so why not enjoy teasing him a little. He checked with the Eye, and Snape had definitely noticed how James had obliquely referred to his blood status without Snape having told him.

    “Yes, that’s Narcissa alright. Her mind is always on politics, even more so than Lucius.”

    “Who’s Lucius?” James asked with a smile, despite knowing very well who Lucius Malfoy was. However, it had the intended effect of throwing Snape off, and he blinked for a moment before answering. 

    “Lord Lucius Malfoy is our host this evening, Narcissa’s husband and a close personal friend of mine.”

    “Ah, of course, Lord Malfoy. I had never heard his first name before. He seems to be quite the interesting man. Quite daring to marry a Black, too, if what Harriet has told me about her godfamily is to be believed.”

    “Yes, the Blacks certainly have quite the reputation, but personally I think Bellatrix took her sisters’ shares of the family madness for herself.”

    “Hmm, she’s certainly dangerous enough for it.” mused James, and he was pleased that the Eye reported Snape was feeling confused by how much he knew of the Blacks but how he hadn’t known Lord Malfoy’s first name. “But I wouldn’t say Bellatrix took all of the madness. In my experience, you have to be a little mad to throw yourself into politics the way Cissy- sorry, Lady Malfoy- has.”

    James hid a smirk as Snape froze at the sound of Lady Malfoy’s childhood nickname. He spoke after a long pause. “It’s true then, what Heiress Potter told me?”

    “Harriet’s a good girl, I don’t think she’d lie to her professors.” James said, no longer trying to hide his smirk. “She hasn’t told you the whole truth, of course, but then again she isn’t allowed to. But I’ll tell you this, Professor. Your research will get you nowhere . My kind removed themselves from wizarding society just as thoroughly as your kind removed themselves from muggle society. You will know as much about me as Harriet and I see fit to tell you.” James allowed himself a vicious smile before turning to leave. “Ooh, those little cheese things! I’ll be seeing you around, Snivellus. And I know what you’re thinking, and McGonagall is right, trying to ask a Fey will end badly for all involved.”

---

    “Heiress Potter, may I introduce you to Lord Nott, Lady Selwyn, Lord Carrow, Lady Greengrass, Lady Zabini, and Lord Montague?” Ophelia smiled and watched as Harriet curtsied to each head of house as Narcissa introduced them (she was mentally making a note to check whether Auntie Agnes was descended from a squib line). “Lords and Ladies, this is Heiress Harriet Potter, of the House of Potter and the House of Black.”

    “It is an honor to meet you all. I’m happy to say I’ve befriended a few of your children at Hogwarts!”

    “Ah, a fellow Slytherin then!” said Amycus Carrow with a grin.

    “No, just a mere Hufflepuff who doesn’t limit her friendships by the color of people’s robes.” Potter said with her eyes downcast. “The hat suggested it, but… well, appearances must be maintained. I heard enough grumblings for simply not being in Gryffindor.”

    Oh, this was going to be interesting, thought Ophelia. She had no idea how much of that was true and why she said any of it regardless. She could already tell she was going to be rewatching this conversation in the family pensieve more than once.

    “Oh? I do hope people aren’t giving you too hard of a time, dear.” said Lucrezia Zabini, and Ophelia could tell from the look in her eyes that Lady Zabini was doing the same calculations Ophelia was. 

    “I thank you my lady, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. My friends are very supportive, inside of Hufflepuff and without.”

    “That’s excellent to hear. How are you finding your academics? My grandson says you’re one of the brightest students in your class.” Lord Nott said with a teasing smirk. Ophelia smiled, remembering the Lumos incident Daphne had relayed to her. 

    “Ah, yes, well, I’ve certainly been enjoying my classes.” said Potter, blushing, and Ophelia noted that Ladies Malfoy and Zabini both had knowing smiles. It seemed that Daphne wasn’t the only one reporting to her parents about the Potter girl. “But I’m also really liking independent study. I’ve always known I’m a witch, but it’s one thing to know you have magic and another to be able to use it and understand it. I’ve been reading up on vanishing spells, and Professor McGonagall says I might be able to do small objects by the end of the year, although personally I feel that her confidence, while flattering, might be misplaced. But I’m certainly going to try my best!”

    “Spoken like a true Hufflepuff.” said Lord Montague, although not with the derision Ophelia usually heard from him when he spoke about the house of the badgers. “McGonagall’s been teaching since I was your age, kid. If she says you can do it, I wouldn’t bet against it.”

    “You flatter me, my lord. I’ll admit I’m better than average, but I doubt I’m far enough ahead to be doing fifth year spells.” Potter said shyly.

    “Perhaps, but the vanishing spell is more about how much power you can channel than it is about technique or having a mature magical core.” Lady Zabini pointed out. “If what Blaise said about your Lumos is true, McGonagall’s confidence is solid.”

    “What happened with her Lumos? Was it overpowered?” asked Lady Selwyn.

    “Quite. Daphne said the class was halted for a good five minutes for people to recover.” Ophelia said. 

    “My word! Yes, I think you’ll definitely have the vanishing spell mastered early.” said Lord Carrow. “So tell me, do you have any idea how you came to be the Heiress of the House of Black?”

    Ophelia hid a sigh. Amycus was never in Slytherin for his subtlety. Although she was interested in how Potter would answer.

    “Well, I was apparently bequeathed it by the previous Lord Black. He was my godfather, and my understanding is that he had a rather… strained relationship with the rest of the Blacks.”

    “Yes, but Sirius turned out to be one of ou- one of the Dark Lord’s. Why would he pass the Lordship to the family he helped murder?”

    Ophelia nearly winced as Amycus nearly admitted to being a Death Eater. Again. Fortunately everybody was too polite or too oblivious to call him out on it. Ophelia was pretty sure which it was for Potter.

    “Well, if one wants to follow the assumptions and ‘common knowledge’, he likely did it to maintain his cover as a loving godfather, and then never had time to change it before he was captured. Then the family magic considered me the Heiress once Professor Dumbledore pleaded guilty on Sirius’s behalf and he was sentenced to life in Azkaban.”

    “And if one doesn’t follow assumptions and common knowledge?” asked Lord Nott with a raised eyebrow.

    “Well, it’s interesting. Everyone who knew Sirius of my father thought they would never betray each other. But Professor Dumbledore said Sirius was the secret keeper, and Professor Dumbledore was the only one who talked to Sirius after his arrest. Professor Dumbledore undoubtedly had the opportunity to frame Sirius, and the influence to make sure no one questioned it.” Ophelia was sure her face matched the shocked expressions of the rest of the Lords and Ladies. “But of course, I can’t possibly fathom what motive the Headmaster would have to lock up Sirius. I mean, apparently Sirius was a bit of a loose cannon who wasn’t afraid to stand up to Dumbledore, but I’m certain the Headmaster isn’t the type to have a potential challenger for leadership of the Light Alliance thrown in Azkaban. After all, I have nothing but respect for the Headmaster. Even if he needs to brush up on the legality of legilimency on minors. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I saw Heiress Bones, and I simply must say hi!” 

    Ophelia watched, slack jawed, as Potter bounced off. She was shaken out of her stupor by Lady Zabini’s laughter. “Oh, I like this one! I might have to tell Blaise to attempt to court her when they’re older!”

    “Surely you don’t believe her?” said Lord Montague. 

    Narcissa chuckled. “Either she’s right and a first year has just handed us Dumbledore’s head on a silver platter, or she’s wrong and has still handed us a beautifully plausible rumor. Either way, she’s a clever one. I can certainly see why the hat offered Slytherin.”

    “Yes, although I believe you’re wrong about the binary of the situation.” said Lord Nott with a frown. “I think she’s right but Dumbledore will wriggle out of it. He’ll probably feed Crouch to the dragon so he can escape. He’s had a decade to prepare himself for if anyone notices any irregularities.”

    “Or he’s had a decade to grow complacent and convinced he’s gotten away with it.” pointed out Selwyn.

    “Perhaps…” muttered Narcissa. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we.”

---

    Snape allowed himself to grin as Potter bounced away from a group of stunned nobles, including Narcissa Malfoy. He wondered what she had said, but he wondered more if he could talk Minerva into a second bottle for how ridiculous Lady Selwyn’s gawking looked; she and McGonagall had always had some sort of rivalry/unresolved sexual tension.

---

    Harriet let out a massive yawn as soon as she stepped out of the floo at 105 Hilltop Road (the floo connection was technically legal, although nobody in the Department of Magical Transportation remembered authorizing or installing it). She immediately kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the sofa.

    “Long night?” asked Mister Wright with a smirk as he sat down in the armchair across from her.

    “I guess. You know Miss Harvey doesn’t usually let me stay up this late, and there’s a curfew at school.”

    “True. Do you want to debrief now or in the morning?”

    “Let’s do it before it fades in my mind. It was pretty simple for me. Lady Malfoy introduced me to the heads of houses Nott, Selwyn, Carrow, Greengrass, Zabini, and Montague. I think that Nott, Greengrass, Zabini, and Malfoy were all interested in me based off what their children had said about me, but I think the others were interested in me by the time I’d finished blushing about how I was only above average while also casually mentioning that I was working on a fifth year spell. Then Carrow was incredibly unsubtle about asking about why I was Heiress Black, so I laid out the ‘official’ reasoning, but then I also gave them the bare bones version of the truth so that Professor Snape could win his dumb bet. Then I went off to chat with Susan and Hannah and spent the rest of the night talking about classes and stuff with the other Hogwarts students. Oh I also hinted that the Headmaster had tried to use legilimency on me.”

    “Excellent. I’m glad you won Snape his bet, seeing as how I may have toyed with him a bit. I basically confirmed what you told him and added that his research would get him nowhere, and demonstrated knowledge of a few minor things I had no right to know, childhood nicknames and such. Then I mostly just walked around eavesdropping and eating those cheese things until it was time to go.”

    “You’re weird.” Harriet said fondly. “Surely you didn’t only talk to Professor Snape?”

    “More or less. I set my aura to ‘slightly off’ and it worked well enough with nobody recognizing me to keep anybody from trying to strike up a conversation.”

    “Of course you did.” Harriet said with another yawn. “Well, I’m headed to bed. G’night Mister Wright!”

    “Goodnight Harriet.” he said with a smile.

---

    “Merlin!” exclaimed Minerva as she and Snape pulled their heads out of the pensieve. “And I thought-”

    “Not here, Minerva.”

    They were both silent, and Minerva’s head was spinning at the implications as they walked into the dungeons. “And I thought the clown monster was bad!” exclaimed Minerva as soon as the door was shut and the privacy spells were erected.

    “He was certainly unnerving.” Snape conceded. “And skilled at not giving anything away. He did not tell me anything I did not already know or suspect.”

    “I see… and he called you-”

    “I know what he called me. Just like he called Lady Malfoy Cissy. It’s a neat little trick; it demonstrates his power without giving us any idea of its limits or mechanics, and the personal aspect helps throw people off balance.”

    “Yes… I think Wright is probably even more dangerous than Nikola.” Minerva said with a frown.

    “I think they’re dangerous in different ways. Wright’s powers would make him best suited for a supportive role, doling out information to keep his allies three steps ahead, whereas we have no idea what Nikola is capable of. Although she doesn’t seem like the type to make idle threats.”

    “Yes… I fear you’re right, Severus. Perhaps try to talk to Miss Potter after the holidays?”

    “I suppose so… It does sound like she’s our only source of information. She’s playing things close to the vest though, even more so than Dumbledore.”

    “We’re keeping secrets too.” Minerva pointed out. 

    “Yes, but not from her. She and Albus are keeping secrets from everyone.”

---

    “So, what do you think?”

    Daphne stared at her mother in shock as she pulled her head out of the family pensieve. “There’s… there’s a lot to sort through here.”

    “Agreed. Let’s go through this, focusing on Heiress Potter. How do you process this conversation, given your perspective as her friend?”

    “Okay… well, her claim that the hat offered her Slytherin is interesting, and certainly plausible. She said on the train before any of us were sorted that it was a possibility. But I’m more drawn to the fact that she said she had to maintain appearances. That, to me, begs the question of who she was maintaining appearances for. I’d be tempted to say people like Lord Carrow (by which both Daphne and her mother knew she meant Death Eaters), but she seemed to be much more Slytherin than Hufflepuff in her conversation with you. Combined with her insinuations about the Headmaster later… and I think she’s trying to avoid his notice.”

    “Mhmm. And the academics and implied bullying?”

    “For the academics, I continue to maintain that she’s holding herself back, which fits with the idea that she’s trying to avoid Dumbledore’s notice. She usually gets Es or As on her essays, but I know for a fact that I would not have gotten any of my Os without her help. As for the bullying, I think she was perhaps playing that up to work the anti-Gryffindor bias. Either that or she’s been dealing with bullies entirely on her own, which would be possible, but uncharacteristic of her. Although it seems like she’s definitely got some secrets she’s not sharing.”

    “Most certainly. And the matter of Black?”

    “She’s definitely got some unexpected source of information, assuming what she implied is correct. She said Dumbledore cast the Fidelius, which is a reasonable assumption, but not a publicly confirmed one. And she would have had to dig deep in DMLE records to see that Dumbledore was the only one to talk to Sirius between his arrest and his departure for Azkaban. Moreover, she’s much more skeptical of Dumbledore than we thought, although that would make sense, since she implied that he used legilimency on her.”

    “Excellent. Then what are your questions?”

    “Let’s see. Why did she possibly overrule the hat’s recommendation to avoid Dumbledore’s ire? Why is she holding herself back academically? Which I guess could be condensed to, why doesn’t she want Dumbledore’s attention? Is she being bullied, and if so, by whom and why hasn’t she told us? And most importantly, what’s her source of information, why did Dumbledore use legilimency on her, and how did she resist it?”

    “Excellent questions, ones to which I wish I had answers. Thank you for your perspective on this matter. I will let you know if I have any updates. And when summer break comes closer, do feel free to invite her to visit.”

Chapter Text

    “Harriet! We didn’t see you on the train back! Where were you?” asked Blaise cheerfully as Harriet walked into the first Charms class of the new semester and took her customary seat next to Daphne.

    “Hey guys! Sorry about that, there’s been… let’s just say it’s complicated and I can’t talk about it in public but it was decided that I wasn’t safe on the train.” Harriet said sheepishly.

    “Not safe?” asked Tracey worriedly. 

    “Yeah, there’s… well, like I said, I can’t talk about it here, but I’ll meet you at the bottom of the South Tower after dinner?”

    “Isn’t the South Tower the one that’s so cursed not even Dumbledore can sort it out?” asked Blaise with a raised eyebrow.

    “I’ve been up it a few times and I haven’t died. Besides, we’re not going up the cursed tower, we’re just meeting at the bottom because nobody would have any reason to go there unless they were going to go up.”

    “‘I haven’t died’ isn’t a good benchmark for success, but whatever, South Tower it is. We’ve got some other questions to ask you anyway.”

    “Alright, it’s a date!” 

    “You wish!” said Blaise with a grin, but Daphne just hid a faint blush.

---

    “Well well!” said Fred (or was it George?).

    “This is certainly interesting.” said George (or maybe it was Fred?)

    “What has an ickle ‘puff and three slithering friends heading towards the base of our most favorite cursed tower?”

    “That’s an excellent question, Fred!”

    “I thought I was George?”

    “Hmm, maybe. I’m sure we can sort it out on our way to see what these little firsties are up to.”

    The twins were able to make excellent time compared to the first years through a combination of hidden shortcuts and longer legs, and they arrived at the corridor leading to the South Tower just as the door to said tower shut with a dull thud. In silent agreement, they crept forwards and pressed their ears to the door.

    “So why couldn’t you take the train?” asked a male voice. Must be Zabini, based on who the map said was in the tower.

    “Because Professor Quirrell’s going to try and kill me. Unless I do something first.” 

    “WHAT?” chorused three voices, and the eavesdropping twins exchanged wide-eyed looks. 

    “How the hell do you figure that?” asked Tracey (not that the twins were able to distinguish between her voice and Daphne’s).

    “I have… sources. Ways of knowing things.”

    “Don’t bullshit us, answer the question!” shouted Tracey at the same time Daphne said “Like how you knew that stuff you told my mom at the Ball?” and Blaise said “What number am I thinking of right now?”

    “Yes, exactly like that Daphne.” Harriet said. “And sorry Blaise, it doesn’t work like that.”

    “How does it work then?” Tracey huffed.

    “One of my guardians, Mister Wright… he’s got rather unique powers. Think a Seer, but he sees the past and present instead of the future, and he can do it on command.”

    “That’s ridiculous, I thought you said Mister Wright was a muggle!” shouted Tracey.

    There was a moment of silence the twins shared another glance, wondering what was going on, when Harriet spoke. “Very well then. I see a demonstration is in order. We will reconvene here in one week. I will bring others, and you will see the truth in my words.”

    The twins heard the sounds of people getting to their feet, and they scurried off, looking forwards to next week.

---

    Daphne was nervous as Harriet led her group towards the South Tower. In addition to the original three, Harriet had brought Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, and the Patil twins. That was her first clue that Harriet wasn’t as full of it as Tracey thought. She would not bring more people if she didn’t have something up her sleeve.

    “Very well. We’ve got a few minutes before our last two guests for the evening arrive, and then I’ll get everyone on the same page.”

    The various first years chatted with each other about homework and quidditch before Harriet clapped her hands, which had Daphne curious since . “Alright, so last week I was explaining how I knew Quirrell wants to kill me. Yes, I’ll get to the why and the how later. I told our three Slytherin friends I would give them a demonstration, which is what you’re here for now, since I wanted to have all my close friends on the same page.” Harriet pulled out her wand and pointed it at the door. “Also, the Weasley twins. Pellucidate!”

    Daphne turned and saw the door had turned transparent, and the two Weasley twins were leaning against it, caught red handed. And red faced, once they realized what the spell had done. One of them fumbled for the doorknob and pulled the door open. “Well done, you got us. What gave us away?”

    Harriet smiled smugly. “Like I said, it’s all thanks to Mister Wright. He informed me we had eavesdroppers and I assumed they wouldn’t be able to resist the follow-up session. Now here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to make a circle and I’m going to go around and whisper a secret in your ear. But it won’t be one of my secrets, it’ll be one of yours. Don’t worry, at the end of this I’ll tell everyone one of mine.”

    “That’s ridiculous! There’s no way you-” began Tracey, and Harriet stepped close to her, faster than Daphne thought was possible, and whispered in her ear. Tracey froze, then her face turned a bright crimson. “How- how did you-”

    “Mister Wright. Don’t worry, he’s heard much worse. Who’s next?”

    Hermione stepped forward, and by the time Harriet was done she had tears in her eyes. She got a quick hug from Harriet before Neville stepped forwards. It was as Harriet whispered in Neville’s ear, causing him to step back and stare at the floor, that Daphne felt herself shiver and blush at the idea of her first crush being that close to her, and whispering in her ear. It was after Parvati stepped back looking incredibly guilty that Daphne realized with a horrible jolt that her own secret could very well be her crush on Harriet. It was after Padma stepped back looking nearly as guilty as her sister that Daphne knew she couldn’t put herself through waiting to know if her fear was correct.

    “Me next.” she said quietly, looking at the floor as she stepped in front of one of the Weasley twins. She could barely look up to see Harriet’s reassuring smile. And then Harriet leaned in and Daphne was certain her face was red as a tomato.

    “I know you like girls, and I know you like me, and I’ll also tell you that your mother will be understanding of both. We can talk more about this later, or we can never mention it again, whichever you prefer, just let me know.”

    Daphne was so busy blushing that she barely noticed how one twin was blushing furiously while the other looked at him in confusion, or how Blaise looked like he was torn between being sick or asking for a hug.

    “Now that you all have your proof, let me continue.” said Harriet. “As I said, I was told all this by Mister Wright, who learned it with his powers. But his powers are non-magical. He is not a wizard, or a squib, or a muggle. He is not a magical creature. He is, at best, a muggle who has powers through supernatural but non-magical means, or at worst, a monster who is very good at acting like a human.” Harriet paused to take in the stunned faces around her. 

    “Is that your secret?” asked Parvati softly.

    “No. My secret is that, while I’m a witch, I’m also one of the things Mister Wright is. Not as powerful as him, not yet, but with the potential to be even greater than him.” the group gaped at her. “And I’ll remind you that this is a secret. Professors Snape and McGonagall are somewhat aware, but other than that nobody else is. So, any questions?”

    There was a moment of silence. “So, um, forgive my Gryffindorness, but what exactly are you and Mister Wright?” said one of the Weasleys.

    “I can’t say in exact terms, but think of it like this: witches and wizards are blessed by Lady Magic, and borrow power from her. Mister Wright is blessed by something else, which again I can’t go into specifics about. Muggles are blessed by neither, I’m blessed by both.”

    “Will you have the same powers as him?” asked Weasley two.

    “One day, Fred, I will have all of Mister Wright’s powers and more.” Harriet said with one of what Daphne had termed her “evil smiles”.

    “Is this second blessing of yours why you’re such a strong witch? And follow-up question, why have you been hiding how powerful you are?” said Blaise.

    “Yeah, Pellucidate is meant for- well, it’s not meant for stuff as heavy as wooden doors.” added a Weasley.

    “The second blessing is not why I’m such a strong witch. There was a ritual performed on me that allows me to draw magical power from… elsewhere. And I’ve been hiding my power to avoid any more attention from the Headmaster than he already gives me.”

    “Why can’t you tell us what you are?” asked Hermione.

    “Much the same reason you can’t tell a muggle you’re a witch. We removed ourselves from your world. You could know what Mister Wright is and all you would find about it is oblique references in obscure texts.”

    “Will you ever be able to tell us?” asked Parvati.

    Harriet sighed. “Perhaps. It- it’s complicated. There are a few people here I could tell, but I won’t unless I can tell everyone. And no I won’t say who I could tell or why I could tell some but not others.”

    “Well shit.” said a Weasley as everyone looked around, wondering.

    “Changing topics, why does Quirrell want to kill you and what are you going to do about it?”

    Harriet paused, trying to decide how to phrase the truth to be misleading. “Quirrell sympathizes with You-Know-Who. As for what I’m going to do about it, I’m simply going to keep myself safe until he is replaced. He has much less time than he thinks he does. And speaking of time…” Harriet cast a Tempus charm. “We should probably head out if we want to get back before curfew.”

    “Oh, to be young…” said a Weasley.

    “...and care about such minor details as curfew.” finished the other.

    “We don’t all have your little cheat-sheet.” said Harriet, and Daphne wondered what that was that got such raised eyebrows from them. “Good night everyone, and remember, nothing we discussed here leaves this room.”

---

    Terry Fulton frowned as he stepped into his sixth year DADA class. He frowned as the unfamiliar man just dived in where they left off, with no introduction. He raised his hand. “Yes, Fulton?” said the man.

    “Uh, hi, um, where’s Professor Quirrell?”

    The unknown professor blinked. “Is this some sort of a joke? I’m Professor Quirrell.”

    Terry frowned. “Are you his brother or something? You’re clearly not our professor Quirrell.”

    “What are you talking about mate?” asked one of Terry’s friends.

    “Are you feeling alright, Mister Fulton?” asked the professor concernedly.

    “Yes! I’m fine! It’s you lot who have lost it! Quirrell spends the whole class stammering, can’t be over 5’9”, and smells like my brother’s room when he puts off doing his laundry for too long! This guy is confident, 6’2”, and doesn’t smell like old socks!”

    The professor who claimed to be Quirrell frowned. “I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about, young man. Mister Brookes, could you please see Mister Fulton down to the Hospital Wing?”

    “Yeah, sure, come on man, Madam P will set you right.” said Brookes, gently leading a sputtering Terry from class.

---

    “Hey, um Harriet?” asked Neville as Harriet as they sat in a corner of the Hufflepuff common room, with the latter going over the former’s Potions essay.

    “Yeah?”

    “Is there any update with Quirrell and the, um, the thing?”

    “The what? Oh. That. Yeah, Quirrell’s dead. Also, you mixed up powdered and ground again.”

    “He’s- what? When did that happen? We just had class with him!” 

    “Oh, it happened a few weeks ago. Remember when that sixth year Ravenclaw got sent to St. Mungo’s?”

    “What’s that got to do with it?”

    “He’s the only one who noticed the switch. And you forgot about the non-magical properties of rhubarb.”

    “What do you mean, ‘noticed the switch’? You’re being cryptic again!”

    “I suppose I am. It’s certainly fun, I can see why Dumbledore overuses it. Basically, there’s two versions of Quirrell. There’s the Quirrell you remember, let’s call him NotQuirrell, and there’s the Quirrell who was planning to kill me, who we’ll call the Original Quirrell. NotQuirrell is a creature that kills and replaces people, and changes everyone’s memories to match except for one person, in this case Fulton. Normally it picks its victims more or less randomly, but one of my guardians has influence over these creatures and was able to give it a target. Effectively, Quirrell was assassinated, and only me, my guardians, and Terry Fulton are any wiser. And also you now. And I guess you can tell people who are in the know.”

    “Are you really- Oh Merlin, you are serious, aren’t you? He’s… I mean, I know he was going to kill you, but… oh Merlin…”

    “It’s okay Nev. I get it. If it makes you feel any better, there’s absolutely no proof, and you’d probably just get laughed off or treated like Fulton, so you have no reason to feel guilty about not telling. Although I’m sure you’ll feel conflicted anyways, that’s just human nature.”

    “Are- are you saying you don’t feel conflicted or guilty?” asked Neville, sounding vaguely horrified.

    “It’s… complicated. Here’s the thing Neville, I was raised by Mister Wright and people like him. I was taught the ‘normal’ good-versus-evil thought process only so that I could understand how others think and feel. I probably haven’t… no, I definitely haven’t been taught how to deal with my emotions healthily, or how to have proper friends. That’s one of the main reasons I’m going to Hogwarts, is so that I can learn how to be a normal, functioning person, rather than the girl who was raised and trained with one goal in mind. So no, I don’t feel guilty, or at least I don’t think I do, but that’s because I was raised to ignore guilt and regret. I look back only to learn how to move forward. Maybe one day I’ll look back and feel guilty, about Quirrell or someone else, but that day is not today.”

    “I… wow. Okay. That’s a lot to unpack.”

    “Yup. Still friends?” asked Harriet uncertainly.

    “Still friends.” said Neville with a smile.

Chapter Text

    Harriet was surprised to see all her guardians sitting around the kitchen table or in the living room when she came downstairs. Even Mister Lukas, although he looked extremely uncomfortable and refused to completely step out of the Lonely.

    “Harriet, good morning!” said Miss Harvey. “It’s great to have you back, dear! See, we were all just drawing up a schedule for your summer lessons, and we wanted to get your input. But someone insisted on letting you sleep in on your first day of summer break.”

    “You’re welcome.” mouthed Mister Michael, earning a grin from Harriet.

    “Now, I won’t lie, we’re going to be working you hard this summer, since Voldemort is likely not going to take Quirrell’s failure lying down.” said Mister Wright. “However, there have been some… disagreements over the curriculum. Certain parties- no I won’t say who, we decided we would let you make this choice on your own- certain parties think you should take a more balanced approach based on all of the Fourteen, while others think you should focus on skills that will allow you to run and hide and therefore buy you time to become stronger.”

    “Hmm… I do ultimately want to be ‘balanced’ as an avatar of fear in general, but I think that as an eleven-almost-twelve year old, I should probably focus on self preservation, and playing it safe. But I do want to check in with everyone at least once or twice this summer, I’ve been doing a lot of reading and I have questions for everyone. Also, I recognize that there are threats to my life, but I do wish to spend some time with my friends this summer. Daphne and her mother have invited me to spend a week at Greengrass Manor at the beginning of August and Hermione was hoping we could meet at the library sometimes to do our summer homework together.”

    “That should be workable.” said Miss Harvey at the same time Mister Wright said “Isn’t Daphne that girl with a crush on you?”

    “Yes, what about it?” said Harriet, jutting her chin out at Mister Wright.

    “Well, it’s just- I know you’re both still eleven- but I just don’t get- how is it supposed to work with two women?” he said awkwardly.

    “What do you mean, ‘how is it supposed to work with two women’? It works the same as with a man and a woman, or a man and a man!” Harriet said indignantly.

    “Well yes, for the feelings, I guess that makes sense, but if it’s two women, neither have a-”

    “That’s enough James!” interrupted Gertrude. “We’re getting off topic! I can explain lesbians to you later, when there aren’t young ears listening!”

    “Er, right. My bad. Anyways, if we’re going to focus on escape and evasion, I think the powers to focus on will be the Dark, the Lonely, and the Vast. Perhaps also the Hunt and the Eye to avoid being taken unawares. And the Spiral, if it’s feeling helpful. And the Stranger is good at disguises. So is the Flesh, sometimes, come to think of it.”

    “I can also teach her how to Burn.” said Auntie Agnes.

    “I’m sorry, what?” said Mister Haan.

    “There is a… method of transportation for creatures of fire. We burn ourselves out of existence at one point as we burn ourselves into existence at another. Although I must warn Harriet, doing it through the Desolation is extremely painful, even for me.”

    “That… sounds like I’ll hate having learned it right up until it saves my life.” said Harriet. 

    “Alright, great. I’ll confer with everyone about when they’re available and get a schedule to everyone by the end of the week. Harriet, call your friend and see if she’s interested in getting all her summer work out of the way this week.” said Miss Harvey. “Thank you all for coming, and John, if I find so much as one larvae in here I will set you on fire.”

    “Fine, fine. I’ll see myself out then.” said Mister Amherst with a rasping sigh.

---

    Hermione perked up and smiled when she saw Harriet enter the library. They waved to each other and Harriet came rushing over, with the tall man following behind her smiling indulgently.

    “Hi Hermione!” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace of the library. “It’s great to see you again! Even though it’s only been a few days. It’s weird seeing you in something other than your uniform. Anyways, this is Mister Wright!”

    Hermione froze and took a second look at the man who had come with Harriet. He looked astoundingly normal . Well dressed, greying hair, a neatly groomed beard, a bit of a belly, he didn’t look like a monster. But she supposed the best monsters never do.

    “H-hi Mister Wright! It’s good to meet you!” said Hermione nervously. Wright just smiled at her indulgently.

    “It’s good to meet you as well, Hermione. I’ve heard so much about you. I’ll be in the non-fiction section if you girls need anything. I’ll leave you two to it.”

    “He’s so normal!” Hermione hissed as he walked away.

    “In a lot of ways, he is. In a lot of others, he isn’t. I haven’t even told you the weird bits about him. Honestly though, I think the weirdest thing about him for me is the contradictions about him. Like, he’s effectively immortal, and can get blackmail on anyone he wants with a thought, yet he still chooses to work a nine to five desk job. He can know everything, yet he still doesn’t understand how lesbians exist. Moral of the story, he’s a weird old man. Anyways, wanna start with the essay on Gamp’s Laws?”

---

    “Hello Mister Leitner!” said Harriet with a smile.

    “You!” gasped Leitner, rudely ignoring her and pointing at Mister Wright.

    “Me indeed.” said Mister Wright. “Care to invite us inside, so we can explain why you’re going to give us what we want somewhere with air conditioning and a pot of tea?”

    “You can’t blackmail me, Wright! You’re not getting a corner of a page!” Leitner spat.

    “I agree that he can’t blackmail you, Mister Leitner. But you misunderstand the situation. Mister Wright is the carrot.” she drew her wand. “I am the stick.” a small flame began dancing on the tip of her wand. “Now, let’s step inside and discuss this like civilized people.”

    Leitner gulped and reluctantly stepped aside. “Parlor is through here. Now what do you want?” he asked as everyone sat down.

    “We wish to borrow a few books from your library.” said Mister Wright. “We’ll need The Boneturner’s-”

    “Impossible.” interrupted Leitner. “You don’t understand. My library is very carefully constructed so that all the tomes keep each other in check. Removing even one book would bring the whole thing tumbling down.”

    “No, Mister Leitner, it is you who doesn’t understand.” said Harriet. “You are not keeping the books in check, you are merely not activating them. You think you have built a house of cards, when all you are is a monkey sitting atop a nuclear arsenal wiping its behind with the launch codes. You are not smart, you are not clever, and you are not keeping anyone or anything safe except for your own ego. Now, there’s two ways this can happen. Either Mister Wright can give you the list of books we require and you can carefully bring them to us, or you can refuse, and we take what we want before destroying the protections on this place and turning it into a beacon for every avatar in Europe.” Harriet began tapping her wand on her opposite palm. “So what’ll it be, Leitner? The easy way, or the hard way?”

    There was a long moment of silence, and Harriet was happy to see fear in Leitner’s eyes and respect in Mister Wright’s. Eventually, Leitner let out a long sigh. “I’m a shopper, not a fighter. Your list?”

    “The Boneturner’s Tale, both versions of Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Es Mentiras, The Dictionary of the Grave, Der Sandmann und Die Puppe, The Journal of Don Quixote, that Safavid manuscript that refuses to be translated, The Maskmaker, and The Bleeding Cookbook. Get that one last, the manuscript and the Dictionary do not react well with blood. Oh, and the Seven Lamps of Architecture. And Marie Spinner’s Guide to Textile Crafts. That’s all though, I promise.”

    Harriet smiled at how uncomfortable Leitner looked by the time Mister Wright was done with his list of books. Leitner sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Wright. If not for your own sake, then for this little girl. Though I won’t lie, I will not be too terribly distraught if any of these books kill you. Except for maybe the Cookbook, that one is just… it’s taken three assistants, and their screams still haunt my nightmares.”

    “We’ll be careful!” Harriet said cheerfully. “Now stop delaying.”

---

    “I think we should start training ourselves in duelling.” said Daphne.

    “I don’t disagree, but why?” said Blaise. 

    “I was just… thinking about what Harriet said at the South Tower. About how one day she’ll have all of Wright’s powers and more. I know we’ll probably never be as strong as she is, but I don’t want to be useless. I don’t want to be left behind.”

    “Is this just about trying to impress your crush?” Tracey asked with a teasing smirk.

    “That’s not- okay, that might be part of it, but think about it this way: Harriet is going to do great things, whether we’re able to support her or not. But if we are there to support her, we’ll see the benefits of it too and gain her favor.”

    “Yeah and we all know why you want to gain her favor.” Blaise said teasingly.

    “Guys, this is serious! She could be the next Dark Lord. Or I guess, a Grey Lady? Look, she’s got a vested interest in stamping out the Death Eater remnants, and she’s probably going to have a confrontation with Dumbledore at some point. She’s going to create a bigger power vacuum than there was after the fall of Grindelwald, and if she doesn’t fill it herself, she’s going to choose who does.”

    “You really think she could challenge Dumbledore?” asked Tracey skeptically.

    “Not right now, but eventually, yes.” said Daphne, meeting her cousin’s gaze.

    “Listen, regardless of whether we’re going to become the inner circle for the Dark Lady Harriet, I still think duelling practice is a good idea. Where should we practice though?” said Blaise.

    “Mother’s agreed to let us use the family training room, and Father said he’d help us, he was pretty highly placed on the Swedish duelling circuit.” Daphne said proudly.

    “You’ve only said that about a dozen times.” said Blaise with an eye-roll “But I admit it’ll be cool to be taught by someone as skilled as him.”

    “Your parents are really on board with this.” said Tracey suspiciously. “Is there something you’re not telling us?” 

    “Yes, and I’ll keep trying to convince Mother to let me tell you, but suffice it to say that she has reason to believe in Harriet’s potential despite me sticking to what Harriet allowed me to say in my reports.” Daphne said with a sigh. “Anyways, Father said we can start whenever, he doesn’t have anything going on today, so let’s go!”

---

    “Grandpa, are you sure I’m ready to fly on my own?” asked Harriet nervously.

    “Sure you are, kid! At least indoors, it’s a lot harder to get lost indoors. Hence why we’re practicing here!” said Grandpa Fairchild, throwing open the doors to the ballroom of the Fairchild Mansion, which was currently covered in various cushions, matts, and mattresses.

    “What’s the point of flying on my own if I can’t do it outside?” Harriet pouted.

    “First of all, tone. Second, it’s practice. Think of it like learning to walk a tightrope, flying inside is like doing it with a net, doing it outside is like doing it over the Grand Canyon. Third, flying is a huge tactical advantage in a fight, especially if they don’t know you can do it. If an enemy expects you to move some version of forwards, backwards, left, or right, they’ll have no idea what to do when you go up. Grifter’s kept you up to date on your military history, yeah? You know how much air warfare revolutionized military strategy.”

    “Fair enough, I suppose. So how do I do it?”

    “Think about how flying felt when I was holding you. Then just jump, and don’t come back down. You might wanna do some meditation with the Vast the first few times, but you can’t rely on having time to meditate before a fight.”

    “Right. Of course. Just refuse gravity. Okay. I can do this.” Harriet jumped. She felt herself go up. And up. “I’m doing it!” she shouted as she continued to rise. “Now how do I stop?”

    “Practice! Practice and willpower!” shouted Grandpa Fairchild with a cackle.

    “It’s not working!” Harriet shouted back as she drifted into a chandelier. Then all of a sudden it was working, and Harriet was plummeting onto a pile of pillows. It still hurt. She turned over with a groan to see Grandpa Fairchild smiling down at her. 

    “Now do you see why we practice indoors?” he asked smugly.

    “Yes… sorry for being bratty about it.”

    “It’s no problem, kid. Even I was eleven-almost-twelve once. And that was actually a very impressive first attempt. Grab that magical bruise cream of yours and I’ll tell you about the first time I tried to fly!”

---

    “Read the first page, and only the first page. Then we will practice.” said Mister Haan.

    “Really? Only one page?” whined Harriet. Mister Haan gave her a stern look.

    “Harriet, The Boneturner’s Tale is an extremely powerful artifact. It will help you learn flesh-shaping, but we cannot rush this. You must be in control, not the book. I believe that you will be able to read all the way through eventually, but if you rush it, the Flesh will shape you, rather than the other way around. These things are powerful, Harriet, and just because you are powerful does not mean you do not need to respect these things. The books are direct manifestations of fear.”

    “Yes Mister Haan. One page it is.” She felt Mister Haan watching her as she read. But she was a fast reader, and soon enough she was finished.

    “How do you feel, child?”

    “I… something’s… different. But I can’t put my finger on it.”

    “Hmm, that’s more than I expected. We will meet at this time every week. One page per week should be a safe pace, but let me or James know if you ever feel any effects you do not believe you can control. This goes double for when you are at school. I will not be able to supervise your reading there. Do not be afraid to skip a week if you feel you need more time to process things. Also, I would recommend keeping the book nearby when you meditate on the Flesh.”

    “Yes Mister Haan. And I’m sorry for my impatience. I didn’t realize how powerful it is until I started reading. It was… hard to stop.”

---

    “Mother? Is now a good time to talk?” Daphne asked nervously.

    “Of course darling! What do you need?” asked Ophelia Greengrass as she put a bookmark in the tome she was reading and set it on her desk.

    “Well, there’s something I need to tell you, but I don’t want you to be angry.”

    Ah, this conversation, thought Ophelia. “If this is what I think it is, I won’t be angry at all sweetheart.”

    “Okay… well, I um… I like girls. Like, like-like. Romantically.” Daphne said blushing.

    “That’s perfectly fine sweety.”

    “I know you were beginning to look at betro- wait, really?” asked Daphne surprisedly.

    “Yes dear. It’s not a problem. Do you like girls and boys, or just girls?”

    “Umm, I dunno, I think just girls? But I’m not really sure.” Daphne said.

    “Okay dear. Thank you for telling me, I know this isn’t easy. I was even more nervous than you are when I told my mother I like both.”

    “You- you do?” said Daphne, shocked. 

    “Yes, I even courted Lady Selwyn’s daughter for a few months when we were in Hogwarts. She was only courting me to try and get me to support the Dark Lord, though.”

    “Oh, wow! So, it won’t be a problem? Not even from, you know, an heirship perspective?”

    “There is a potion that can allow a woman to conceive with another woman. And even if you die childless, there’s always Astoria.”

    “Thank you mother. It… it means a lot to me that you’re accepting.”

    “Of course honey! Now, I have to ask, do you like girls in general, or is there one girl in particular?” she said with a smirk.

    “There… um… it’s complicated. I’m gonna go work on my homework!” Ophelia allowed herself a chuckle as Daphne fled. That was almost certainly a yes, and she had a feeling she knew who.

---

    “Hello Harriet.”

    “Hello Auntie.” Harriet replied nervously. “So… Burning?”

    “Yes, my dear. It’s quite simple once you have the hang of it. Burning is an exchange. You receive safe and speedy passage in exchange for your pain. Just let the flames within you take you where you need to go. The hardest part is to submit to the Desolation, and let it consume you, while trusting it will take you where you ask it.”

    Harriet sighed and closed her eyes. She felt for her connection with the Lightless Flame, and the scent of burnt flesh and hair filled her nose as she found it. She asked it. And suddenly a white hot agony filled her, and with an agonized wail, she burned out of existence and appeared on the other side of the room in a burst of flames.

    “Oh God!” she sobbed as the heat faded.

    “I did say it would be painful.” Auntie Agnes said mildly as she held out a hand and summoned the embers and flames left behind by Harriet’s Burning. “It’s the price we pay.” she said as the fire was absorbed into her body.

    “Is that what it feels like to be set on fire?” asked Harriet through her tears.

    “No child, Burning is much worse than being set on fire. When you are merely set on fire, it triggers the heat and pain receptors in your skin before they are too damaged to transmit. When you Burn, you feel the pain directly in your brain, but you are not actually damaged, so you continue to feel pain for a while after. Take the rest of the day off. The worst of the aftershocks will be gone by tomorrow.”

    “How did anyone even find out how to do this?”

    “Not all creatures of fire are part of the Desolation. We are the negative connotations of fire, the pain, the destruction. Creatures like phoenixes, however, can Burn painlessly because they represent the positive aspects of fire: light, warmth, safety. Similarly, for us Burning will always have some collateral damage, whereas a phoenix couldn’t harm anything with Burning if it tried.”

    Harriet sniffled. “Can you control the collateral damage?”

    “Yes. The closer you are to the Desolation, the easier it is and the more damage you can inflict. I could Burn to the other side of the room and do no more than singe the carpet under my feet, or I could reappear with the force of a nuclear bomb. And no, that is not an exaggeration.”

    “Wow… will I be able to do that one day?”

    “Perhaps. None of us truly know the upper limits of your potential, not even James. But I don’t think you’ll ever need to level a city. Or at least I hope you won’t.”

    “Me neither… but it would be an interesting trick to have up my sleeve.”

    “Hmm, I can see how you would think that. Now rest, child. You will need your strength for tomorrow. Nathaniel is going to take you on a trip.”

---

    “How the hell did we only have two applicants? Teaching at Hogwarts is a prestigious position, damnit!” Albus grumbled as he, Severus, and Minerva made their way back from the classroom where the interviews were to take place.

    “We’d have three if you didn’t reject my application the instant I put it on your desk.” Severus shot back, to Minerva’s amusement.

    “It’s the curse, Albus.” she added. “And yes, I know you don’t believe in it, but you have to admit that two decades of DADA teachers never lasting longer than a year does nothing to quell the rumors.”

    “Well, nevermind that, what did you think of the applicants?” asked Albus as the trio arrived back in his office.

    “I think they would both be awful additions to the faculty.” Minerva huffed. “Gilderoy Lockheart’s books have a self-contradictory timeline and are full of made-up spells, and I would bet my wand that Nikola Orsinov is the clown monster I met at the station last year.”

    “Sure she is, Minerva.” said Albus. “I take it you recommend Lockheart then?”

    “The worst part is that I actually don’t.” she sighed. “Terrifying as Orsinov is, at least there’s a chance students will learn something useful from her. I don’t doubt that Lockheart would make the class all about him.”

    “Gilderoy does seem to be a little… self-important.” Albus conceded. “Severus? What do you think?”

    “I think that calling Gilderoy Lockheart self-important is like calling fiendfyre slightly warm.” he said disdainfully. “I agree with Minerva, if you can let in the man who revived the Dark Lord after he went missing for a month with no communication, you can hire the damn clown monster.”

    “Severus, really! I know her makeup was a bit on the extravagant side, but sharing the same name and a fondness for heavy makeup does not mean they’re the same person.”

    “Their speech pattern was exactly the same!” growled Minerva.

    “Perhaps. Well, I have a lot to consider. Thank you both for your input.” Albus said, smiling serenely as the heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin stalked out the door.

---

    “Hello Mister Thorp. Auntie Agnes said we’re going on a trip?” 

    The hooded figure nodded and placed his cold, skeletal hand on Harriet’s shoulder. Harriet blinked and they were standing in a hospital room over the bed of a painfully thin woman hooked up to a variety of beeping and blinking machines. 

    “Welcome to St. Margot’s Hospital in Bordeaux. This is Emilie Durand.” said Mister Thorp with his cold, scraping voice. “She has terminal bone cancer and has requested multiple times to be taken off of life support and allowed to die, which is refused as per St. Margot’s policy.” He pulled a simple steel dagger from within his cloak. “I have brought you here to grant her request.”

    Harriet gulped as she took the knife, her gaze bouncing between the woman, the weapon, and Mister Thorp. “Why?” she asked quietly.

    “Because for all you’ve seen and known, you are still, in your heart, innocent. That will not do going forwards, not for what you must learn and do. Therefore, you must take a life with your own hands. I determined that Durand would be the… least disturbing option. If you wish to kill someone else, that can be arranged. I can bring you a rapist, or a war criminal perhaps. But this is a necessity for you, Harriet.”

    “What kind of learning requires me to kill someone? And what’s the deal with this knife, it feels… unusual.”

    “I am going to teach you Gravetongue, the language of death and necromancy. It cannot be Known by the Eye, and it cannot be learned by someone who has not spilled the blood of another person. Moreover, you know you are being trained to kill Tom Riddle, and you will likely have to kill many of his supporters as well. And Grifter’s next lesson will leave you with blood on your hands. Therefore, it is best that you become accustomed with killing now, in as ethical of a situation as we can make. As for the dagger, it is a gift. It is an artifact of the End; anyone killed with this dagger will appear, to the unprotected mind, to have died a natural death.”

    Harriet looked at the dagger in awe. “Wow… okay. Okay, I’m going to do it. I’m going to kill this woman. Do you, uh, have any advice, for like, how to do it?”

    “The easiest option would be to cut open her throat. Other options would be a powerful strike to the temple, although I’m not certain you have the physical strength for that, or a strike between the ribs into the heart.” Mister Thorp said emotionlessly.

    “Okay, neck it is I guess…” Harriet said. She looked down at the woman and raised the knife. She closed her eyes and brought the knife down. It sunk into the bed beside her.

    “Pro tip: don’t close your eyes.” drawled Mister Thorp.

    “Shut up!” snapped Harriet. “You are not making this any easier!”

    “My apologies, child. I do know that it is not as easy as it looks.” Harriet shivered from the cold as Mister Thorp placed her free hand on Durand’s lower neck and guided the knife to hover a few inches over the place where her neck met her head. Durand did not stir. Mister Thorp stepped back. Harriet took a deep breath and pressed the blade down.

---

    Neville smiled as he saw Harriet’s strange, two-headed owl tapping on his window. He opened it and untied the roll of parchment attached to their leg. He would have offered them an owl treat, but he had quickly learned that Breekon and Hope took great offense to that and expressed it through scratching and pecking. They ate human food or none at all. He unrolled the parchment and began to read.

    Dear Neville,

    So, remember our conversation where I told you about Quirrell and how I was raised with a bit of a twisted moral compass? (A compass is a muggle device that works like a point-me spell, except it always points North) Well, I’m having a bit of a crisis now. And before you read any further, please understand that this is a Big Secret, I’m not even telling any of my other friends about this.

    I killed a woman. She was in a muggle hospital, and had asked to be allowed to die, because she was in a lot of pain and had no hope of recovery. One of my guardians, Mister Thorp, brought me there to kill her. He said there were some things I could not learn without blood on my hands. And he’s right, but I’m still having a crisis of faith here. Should I have refused? Should I be feeling worse about this? Should I be feeling better? And he hinted that I’d have to kill more people soon. I just… I don’t know if I can do this. 

I’ve instructed Breekon and Hope to wait to deliver this until you’re alone, and to wait for you to write a reply. Please destroy this letter after you’ve read it, obviously I’d rather not have a written and signed murder confession floating around.

Your friend (I hope),

Harriet

    Neville let out a sigh as he finished reading Harriet’s letter. He was honestly feeling a little overwhelmed, so he sat down and tried to “order his mind” like his gran taught him. Okay, what was he feeling?

    Shock. That was the big one. He was surprised that Harriet had killed someone, he was surprised that she’d admitted it to him unprompted, and he was surprised that she was asking him for advice.

    Pride. It was weird, and maybe a little messed up, but he was proud and honored that he was the person Harriet decided to confide in about this. It was certainly a big thing. And he was also proud of Harriet for talking to someone about this, rather than bottling up her feelings.

    Sympathy. Harriet was eleven (almost twelve) and she’d had to kill someone. That was pretty awful.

    And… that was all. He wasn’t angry, or disgusted, or afraid. Maybe he would have been if Harriet hadn’t felt bad, or hadn’t told him. But she did, and she had, so… ultimately, he supposed she did what she had to. Breekon and Hope shuffled impatiently, and he quickly grabbed his quill to pen a reply.

    Dear Harriet

    First of all, thank you for writing. It sounds like you definitely needed to talk to someone about this, and I’m honored that it’s me.

    It sounds like you’ve definitely got a lot to think about, and some big decisions to make in your future. I can’t make them for you, or probably even offer much useful advice seeing as how I don’t see the big picture. But I’ll tell you what I can: I don’t blame you for making the choice to kill that person. I can’t say I like it, but it was your choice, and I trust you, and I trust that it was, if not the right choice, then at least a necessary one. As for this Thorp guy hinting that you’ll have to kill again… all I can say is that I trust you’ll continue to make the right choices. I’m sorry if this isn’t very helpful, but I hope it is.

    Your friend,

    Neville

---

    “Where do you want the drumset?” Harriet called out from the other end of the abandoned warehouse.

    “Let me get that. It’s rather cursed.” said Uncle Al, rushing over.

    “Arcane-cursed or Slaughter-cursed?” Harriet asked as he began lugging the drums towards the makeshift stage they had erected.

    “Both. Which is why I’m getting it.”

    “Gotcha. So, um, the other day… Mister Thorp had said you were going to have me kill people?” Harriet asked hesitantly.

    “Kind of. You know what kind of music I play for muggles, right?” Harriet nodded. “Well, you’re gonna be playing with me tonight! The Slaughter is like a song, see? And you’ve gotta be able to feel it. And the best way to do that is to play it!”

    “I don’t get it.”

    “Yeah, maybe I didn’t explain that the best. Basically, once you’ve really experienced the Slaughter, it’s pretty easy to call upon it. And I’d rather not have you experience the Slaughter by being in the mosh pit, so you’re going to experience it by helping me call upon it. And if you call upon the Slaughter while casting certain spells, it can change them, make them more… militaristic, and physical. Incendio turns into a spray of napalm, Confodio shoots a physical bullet, Confringo shoots some sort of explosive shell. All of those depend on how much magic you pump into them, of course. Confringo in particular seems like it has a very high ceiling for how much magic it can use.”

    “That’s awesome! Do you think it works with other Fears?”

    “I don’t see why not! Could probably get all sorts of weird stuff with Incarcerous.”

    “That’s fascinating! Think of the possibilities!”

    “For you, yeah. Now stop lazing around and get the speakers hooked up!”

---

    “Daphne! So good to see you!” Harriet said warmly as she stepped out of the floo before launching herself into a hug, which Daphne had to admit definitely caused her to blush. “And Lady Greengrass! A pleasure to see you again!” Harriet said, curtseying to Daphne’s mother and giving her time to recover.

    “I very much agree, Heiress Potter! I have to say, you were the talk of the Hogwarts parents after you left at the Malfoy’s Ball. You made quite an impression! I certainly hope to continue our conversation from that night some other time. But for now I’ll leave you to get unpacked, I’m sure Daphne can show you to your rooms for the week.”

    “Yeah, after that I can show you the duelling room!” Daphne said excitedly. “Father has been teaching us- Me, Tracey, and Blaise- and you can join us for the week! Father even taught us a few dangerous ones, like Confodio and throwing a Diffindo, although we’re not allowed to use them without an adult around, which is kind of lame but makes sense.”

    Harriet smirked as Daphne continued enthusiastically talking about their duelling lessons while she unpacked.

    “That sounds interesting Daphne. Maybe we should head down and I can show you a little of what I’ve been working on.” Harriet said with a smirk that somehow made Daphne blush despite the promise of danger that was within it.

    They arrived at the duelling room just in time to hear Tracey shout “Expelliarmus!” and to see her catch Blaise’s wand.

    “Good, both of you.” said a tall man Harriet assumed was Daphne’s father. “But Blaise, you need to keep a better grip on your wand. That disarming spell was good for a second year, but you probably could have held on to it. And Tracey, you still need to keep mobile! You’re relying too much on shielding, which again, is impressive for a second year, but it’s going to take a lot out of you until your core matures more, and even then it will always take less energy to dodge than it does to block. Ah, Daphne, you’re back, and you must be Heiress Potter! Well met! I am Lord Sigmund Greengrass!”

    “Well met sir!” Harriet replied with a curtsey. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

    “Nonsense! These three have been very eager to have you join them! And now that we have four you can practice working with a partner. But first, perhaps you should duel Daphne so I can get a sense of where you’re at?”

    “If she’s agreeable to the idea.” Harriet said with a grin, as Daphne was already taking her place. 

They bowed and Daphne immediately let loose an Expelliarmus, which Harriet ducked out of the way of. She continued dancing out of the way of Daphne’s spells, letting her tire herself out, before she deciding to go on the offensive. She started by summoning one of Daphne’s shoes, knocking her off balance, before casting a jelly-legs jinx and a tongue tying curse. Daphne blocked the first, but was hit by the second.

“Ah co’theed!” she slurred, dropping her wand.

    “Excellently done, Harriet!” Lord Greengrass said as he cast the counter-curse. “Very creative use of the summoning charm, although regulation duelling robes are charmed against summoning. I’m curious now. Would you be willing to duel Tracey next?”

    Tracey was a very different opponent than Daphne. Where Daphne always moved to keep the maximum amount of distance between her and Harriet, Tracey wouldn’t move to create space until she was halfway across the arena. And while Daphne cast as fast as possible, Tracey took her time, casting offensive spells in short bursts, and tried to predict Harriet’s movements. Harriet continued to dodge and observe, but it was more difficult, her dodging requiring her to think a few steps ahead. Eventually Tracey sent a trio of Expelliarmuses that would require Harriet to throw herself to the ground or fly to dodge, so she cast the reflecting spell and the middle spell, and smiled as Tracey was hit by her own spell.

    “Ooh, Repello, that’s a very tricky one, and quite advanced! I’m impressed, Heiress! Care to go for the hat trick?”

    Blaise was the opponent most like her, she thought. They exchanged minor spells as they stalked around the edges of the circle, probing each other’s defenses. It seemed that she would have to beat him with brawn rather than brains.

    “Incendio!” she shouted, and a stream of magical fire erupted from her wand, flying towards Blaise. It wasn’t the Slaughter-augmented variation, Blaise would almost certainly try a magical barrier instead of a physical one, and she didn’t know if Lord Greengrass would be able to treat napalm burns. She couldn’t see him through the flames, but based on the fact that she didn’t hear screams, she assumed Blaise had shielded as she had expected him to. So she began to walk forwards. She was honestly impressed that Blaise was able to maintain the shield as she approached and the stream of fire became more and more concentrated. By the time she was right in front of him, she could see he was wincing and had sweat dripping down his brow. She quickly cancelled the spell as she twisted her hips to kick Blaise’s wand hand, causing him to drop it with a yelp.

    She turned as she heard applause, seeing Lord Greengrass clapping enthusiastically while Tracey whispered something in her cousin’s ear that caused Daphne to blush and lightly swat Tracey’s shoulder. “Very impressive, both of you! That was an impressive amount of fire for an adult, never mind a child! And Blaise, the fact that you were able to keep your shield up that long is equally impressive! Now, Harriet, we’ve seen you can win, but tell me why you think you won each duel.”

    “Hmm, well, they all had different duelling styles. Daphne was very aggressive so I let her tire herself out before I used an unconventional attack, since she was tiring but far from defenceless. Tracey was more methodical, so I let her get lulled into a false sense of security before using a spell she wouldn’t expect. Blaise was matching me blow for blow, so I used a continuous attack to try and tire him out more quickly, while approaching for physical combat, since that’s not something many magical opponents will be prepared for.”

    “Excellent analysis! You did very well testing your opponents. I wonder… yes, here’s an idea. The four of you will duel me, four against one. Think of this as an exercise in teamwork. I’ll allow you to plan without me eavesdropping. Let me know when you’re ready, I’ll wait outside. And maybe bring Ophelia, she’ll want to watch.”

---

    “Really Sigmund? I know you miss good opponents, but that’s no reason to hex a bunch of kids!” Ophelia said, even as she stood up to go down and watch.

    “I’m not sure my victory is as assured as you think my dear. Heiress Potter is a powerhouse. She treated her duels with the others more as an opportunity to see their duelling styles than as an actual challenge. And she kept up an Incendio from across the room for a good half a minute. If the four of them coordinate well, I think they could win.”

    “Sure they could, Sigmund, sure they could.” 

    “We’ll see.” he said before knocking on the duelling room door. “You ready in there?”

    “Ready as we’ll ever be!” replied Harriet.

    He observed their formation as he walked into place while Ophelia waited just outside the duelling wards. Harriet was in front of a sort of diamond formation, with Tracey in back. “Count us in, darling?”

    “I still think this is a bad idea. Three, two, one, go.”

    Harriet sprang into action, and Sigmund immediately noticed three things. First was that she was not making a sound- her entire repertoire was wordless. Second was that she was not pulling any punches. She was using blasting curses and piercing hexes as well as stunners and disarming spells. Third was that she was taking an even more aggressive approach than Daphne did. Which made sense, since their strategy seemed to be to have Harriet attack and everyone else defend her and each other. It was a sound strategy, given how powerful Harriet was. It was remarkable how trusting she was in her friends, too. She dodged  his slower spells, but didn’t even try to avoid his faster ones, completely trusting her teammates to shield her. 

    The most impressive thing is that it almost worked. He’d been grazed and singed by a number of near misses by the time he managed to get Harriet with a stunner that Blaise was a fraction of a second too slow to shield. After that he finally had some breathing room, and he stunned or disarmed his other three students in short order. Soon he was returning Tracey and Blaise’s wands while Ophelia revived Daphne and Harriet before healing his cuts and going to get the burn cream.

    “Excellently done, all of you!” he said once everyone was patched up. “I haven’t had a duel like that since I retired from the Swedish Circuit! Alright, what went wrong, and what went right? Blaise?”

    “I was too slow.” Blaise said guiltily. “If I had been faster with my shield we might have actually won.”

    “Yes, that was a mechanical mistake, but what were your tactical mistakes?”

    “We didn’t have a backup plan.” said Tracey. “We’d lost as soon as Harriet went down.”

    “We could have recovered if any of us knew Ennervate.” said Daphne. 

    “I was too afraid of hurting you.” said Harriet with a frown. 

    “Really? You were casting Confringos right at me! What were you considering, unforgivables?”

    “Yes, I was casting Confringos directly at your current position, to try and maneuver you into less dangerous spells that are easier to block. My plan was to have you dodge an explosion into a stunner, when it should have been the other way around.”

    “Interesting take. You’re thinking like a Hit Wizard there.” Sigmund said with a grin. “What about what you guys did right?”

    “Harriet wasn’t joking about her silent casting!” said Daphne. “Also, she was able to keep pressure on you while we were able to keep pressure off of her. The duel would have been over in seconds if she wasn’t able to cast as fast as she did.”

    “Yes, you all had exemplary teamwork! I think this will be a good exercise to repeat this week.” 

Ophelia rolled her eyes, not sure if it was at her husband’s enthusiasm for duelling, or for how he had managed to pass it down to their daughter and her friends.

---

    The week at Greengrass Manor was probably one of the best of Harriet’s life. She would raise earlier than her classmates and spend the time while she waited for them to wake up meditating, though being very careful not to let any power leak out. She wondered if anyone had found the mannequin room at Hogwarts.

    Once everyone was up, they would usually have breakfast together before spending the morning messing around. One morning they played tag on broomsticks, other times, they just lazed around the grounds, reading or chatting. Afternoons were for homework for the three who had not completed their summer assignments with Hermione, and for Harriet they were spent tutoring her friends or reading one of the fascinating texts of the Greengrass library. Dinner was always with Lord and Lady Greengrass and Astoria (as well as Astoria’s friends, Flora and Hestia Carrow on one night). Conversation varied widely, from international quidditch (Lord Greengrass was very put out by Sweden’s loss to Morocco) to domestic politics (Lady Greengrass shot Harriet a pointed look as she talked about how Sirius Black conspiracy theories were running rampant). Evenings were usually spent in duelling training with Lord Greengrass (and usually supervised by Lady Greengrass). 

    The final evening of her stay, however, found Harriet and her friends chatting on the floor of Daphne’s bedroom.    
    “So Harriet…” Daphne said nervously. “You said you’d been learning some things this summer. I’m guessing it wasn’t just regular magic?”

    Harriet took a long look at Daphne. “Correct. I’ve learned a number of… skills. For example, I know when people are listening who shouldn’t be.”

    Daphne blushed and took off the eavesdropping bracelet her mother had given her and tossed it into the hallway before closing the door. “Sorry about that, she made me. So really, what did you learn?”

    “No.” said Harriet. “I’m sorry, but I can’t trust you not to immediately tell your mom. I like her, and I think she’ll be a key ally one day, but right now I can’t trust her to protect my interests, and I can’t trust you to keep my secrets. Mister Wright told me the instant you showed her the memories of our meetings at the South Tower. I won’t hold it against you on a personal level, because I know you didn’t have much choice, but you have to understand that from a strategic view, you’re compromised.”

    “No, listen, Harriet, you can trust me, I swear!” Daphne begged.

    “No, you listen Daphne! I like you, and I get that you’re in a difficult position, but until you can look your mother in the eyes and tell her you won’t spy on me for her, I can’t trust you! I’m getting stronger, but I’m still no match for someone like Dumbledore or Voldemort, and until they’re out of the way, I need to keep my powers top secret. And I’m sorry Daphne, but your mom is friends with Narcissa Malfoy, who is married to an Inner Circle Death Eater, convicted or not. And the fact of the matter is that I don’t know how much I can trust Lady Greengrass, and I’m inclined to say ‘not at all’ given that she tried to trick me out of my secrets rather than earning my trust herself. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed!”

    Harriet stormed out, the door slamming behind her. It was silent, save for Daphne’s quiet tears.

    “I think you and Auntie O have made a serious mistake.” Tracey said quietly.

    “You think ?” snapped Daphne.

    “Oh yeah.” agreed Blaise. “Did anyone else notice that the door opened without Harriet touching it or her wand?”

Chapter Text

    Ophelia sighed as she pulled her head out of the pensieve to see her eldest daughter still glaring at her.

    “Yes, Tracey is right. I fucked up.” It spoke volumes of Daphne’s anger that she was unfazed by her mother swearing. “I underestimated her abilities, and the honor of our House is suffering for it.”

    “I don’t care about the House’s honor!” shouted Daphne. “I care that one of my best friends hates me because of something you made me do! You heard what she says! She thinks I’m just your puppet! And you’ve probably given her doubts about Tracey and Blaise, too! And she’s even more powerful than we know, and her guardians are even worse! She could kill us, Mother!”

    “Now Daphne, I know Harriet has a lot of potential, and she has friends in high places, but-”

    “You’re an idiot, Mother, if you continue to underestimate her and her guardians after I showed you the memories of the tower.” Daphne fumed.

    “Honey, it’s an impressive bit of scrying, but-”

    “You’re impossible! You refuse to consider that Harriet is not something that can be controlled! You’re falling into the same delusions as Dumbledore! And I don’t know if you missed it, but it sounds to me like she’s planning on ruining Dumbledore!”

    “Yes… perhaps you’re right. From what she said, it sounds like the Dark Lord isn’t dead either. Perhaps… yes. I will write to this Mister Wright, and try to patch things up.” Ophelia mused.

    “Do as you will Mother. But once again, you really shouldn’t underestimate Wright. Assume that if you know something, he knows it too.”

    “Darling, I do know Occlumency.”

    “It isn’t- Mother, from what I’ve surmised, Wright does not know things through legilimency, he knows it because he’s a creature that can know anything.”

    “Sure he is, darling. Run along now, I have a letter to write. But for what it’s worth, I am sorry about how things are between you and Harriet right now. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think she’s as mad at you as you think she is.”

---

    “James! Emma! How good of you to invite me to your little gathering! What are we here for today?”

    Wright sighed as Nikola folded herself into a seat next to Harvey. She knew just how to push his buttons. “Orsinov. I’ve got you here for one reason: this.” he pulled a file folder from a drawer of his desk and handed it to the living mannequin.

    “Dossier on Gilderoy Lockheart! This should be interesting! Wait- Dumbledore didn’t actually hire him instead of me, did he? I know I’m a clown, but Gilderoy is a clown .”

    “Oh he’s much worse than a clown.” Harvey said darkly. “I put that together based on what Wright found when he did Lockheart’s background check. In summary, he’s a predator, and not the Hunt kind.”

    Wright couldn’t look away as Orsinov’s smile literally rotated 180 degrees. “I see. Do you want me to skin him alive, then?” she said in the same tone one would ask if there was anything you wanted picked up from the store.

    “That won’t be necessary, Agnes is melting him as we speak. I’m just explaining why you got the job, although your new boss doesn’t know it yet. You can keep the dossier, it’s your choice whether you show it to Dumbledore or anyone else.”

    Orsinov’s smile turned back right side up. “I’ll ask Rosie to make me a copy for all the faculty! Except the great and powerful Albus Dumbledore, of course, I’m sure a wizard as high and mighty as he is already knows. I’ll start packing then! Professor Orsinov has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

    “Yes, excellent. I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes, anyways. Lady Greengrass. I haven’t decided how I want to handle her, but intimidation isn’t the way to do, I don’t think. Not direct threats of violence and skinning, anyway.”

    “That’s very unfortunate, James. Do let me know if you change your mind!”

    “Of course, thank you. And, ah, if you could please use- the door…” he sighed as she scuttled out the window.

    “I really hate her sometimes.” sighed Harvey.

    “Join the club.” grumbled as the flames in the fireplace turned green. “Well met, Lady Greengrass!” he said, putting on a mild smile as the witch stepped out of the fireplace. “May I introduce my associate, Miss Emma Harvey?”

    “Yes, well met. Now, I trust you know why I’m here?”

    “Yes, Harriet said something about you using your daughter to manipulate her?” said Harvey. “Ordinarily we wouldn’t get involved, but you requested a meeting, so here we are.”

    “Yes, that whole incident. I wouldn’t call it manipulation, so much as trying to satisfy my own curiosity. You have to understand, Harriet is a very impressive child, and she could very much shake up the political game, but I cannot fully support her when there are so many questions surrounding her past.”

    Wright and Harvey exchanged a look. “Listen, Lady Greengrass, Harriet is rather young for politics, so for now we have to ask you to respect her privacy.” said Harvey.

    “Nonsense, it’s never too early to plan for the future! With Harriet’s fame and magical power, and Greengrass money and connections, we can have the Wizengamot wrapped around our wands!”

    Wright sighed. “Miss Harvey tried to say it the delicate way, so now I will be blunt. We do not trust you, we do not like you, and we do not need you. Harriet will eventually have your support one way or another, so we are not going to bend over backwards to secure it now.”

    Lady Greengrass’s cheeks were tinged with pink. “How dare you!” she shouted. “I am the Greengrass matriarch! I have more power in my pinky finger than a muggle like you has in his entire body!”

    “I disagree.” said Wright with a shark-like grin. “I might not have a wand, madam, but I am far from powerless. Knowledge is power, and I have all the knowledge in the world. I Know the Greengrass financials better than anyone who’s actually involved in managing them. I Know all the things you got up to at Hogwarts that would be embarrassing for anyone to find out about. I Know exactly how hurt your daughter is by the choices you forced her to make. And I can make you Know too.”

    Lady Greengrass gasped as her mind was flooded with feelings of anger, betrayal, and adolescent angst.

    “Leave this place, Greengrass.” growled Harvey. “Come back when you can accept that you are not negotiating from a position of power.”

    There was a pop, and Lady Greengrass disappeared.

    “Well, I’d say that went well.” said Wright. “I think I’m going to take my lunch break now, care to join me?”

---

    “Professor Dumbledore? We have a bit of a situation.” said Moffit, the Hogwarts head house elf.

    “What seems to be the issue?” Albus asked, calmly taking a sip of his afternoon tea.

    “It’s Professor Lockheart, sir. He appears to have been melted.”

    There was a tinkling of broken china as the Headmaster dropped his teacup. “Reparo. What do you mean, melted?”

    “I mean melted. Liquified by extreme heat. Nobbit went to bring him afternoon tea in his quarters, as had been requested, and found that all of Professor Lockheart’s things had been burned and the professor himself was a puddle on the floor. Shall I alert Madame Pomfrey?”

    “Please do. Severus as well, I would like him to check for evidence of dark magic.”

    “Yes sir.” said Moffit, disappearing with a pop. Albus sighed. At least Gilderoy’s hiring hadn’t been publicized yet, this could have been much worse. Now that he didn’t have to focus on calming parents and assuring them that their kids were safe, he could focus on how to get a new DADA professor before the term started. Lupin was qualified, but last he checked Lupin was in Belorus, and heading East. Maybe he could convince Mad-Eye to-

    His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a beak tapping on his window. He raised his eyebrows when he saw young Harriet’s distinctive two-headed owl pecking at his window with a package in its claws.

    He cast a series of detection charms on it (he didn’t think Harriet would send him something dangerous, of course, but one could never be too careful) and when they came back negative he opened it up. Inside was one of those creepy porcelain dolls that muggles made for some befuddling reason. Then Dumbledore dropped the box in shock when the doll turned to face him.

    “Hello Albus- can I call you Albus?” said the doll as it climbed out of the box, its limbs growing as it did, then the body, then the head. He drew his wand.

    “Who are you?” he said, no longer the genial headmaster, but the man who had defeated Grindelwald.

    “It’s me, good old Nikola Orsinov, here to resubmit my application to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts!” Albus blinked and the porcelain doll was replaced by the makeup covered ringmaster who had come to the interview. “See, James- James Wright, you remember him? James told me that you were about to have some staffing difficulties regarding the Defense position. So I thought I’d come and be a solution for once, since James always says I’m a problem. So whattaya say, Al? Can I call you Al? Will you do me the honor of allowing little ol’ me to teach at this wonderful school of yours?”

    Albus did not lower his wand. “So you are the clown monster. It seems I owe Minerva an apology. But I have questions. First, what are you, exactly? I’ve never heard of anything like you before.”

    “That’s because there’s nothing like me, Al! I’m Nikola Fucking Orsinov, the Puppet Queen, the Dancing Doll, the Faceless Ringmaster! I’m one of a kind!”

    “So you don’t have a species.”

    “You’re getting it! I knew you were a smart one, Al!”

    “Don’t call me Al. How do you know James Wright?”

    “Well, we were enemies for a while. I tried to kill him a few times, you know. But then Harriet came along, and she completely changed the game we were playing, just like she will for you! So now we work together to make sure our Harriet is the best witch she can be! And now, my part in that is being the best professor I can be! Much better than a slimy little coward like Lockheart.” she said with a sneer.

    “Are you even a witch?”

    “No, but I don’t need to be to teach kids how to look out for themselves. Besides, you’ve never cared about qualifications before! You certainly didn’t when you hired Lock-fart.”

    “That was incredibly childish of you.”

    “Yes, well, I always thought maturity was overrated. So, have I convinced you to hire me yet?”

    “Are you going to be a danger to any staff or students?”

    “Not unless they’re a danger to any other staff or students!”

    Albus sighed and pulled out a contract. “Sign here, and consider yourself lucky that I don’t want to make a trip to Russia.”

    “Hey! Russia is lovely! I was made there!”

    “Made?” Albus asked as Orsinov signed.

    “Yes. Built, constructed, manufactured. Anyways, I have classrooms to prepare, lessons to plan. Toodles!”

    Albus sighed again as Professor Orsinov danced out the door (literally). He was going to get a lot of mail from the parents, wasn’t he?

---

    “Harriet! There you are!” said Neville, rushing over to his friend with Hermione in tow. He grinned as Harriet pulled him and Hermione into a hug.

    “I missed you guys so much! Come on, let’s go grab a compartment!” Harriet said, having to raise her voice to be heard over the din of Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

    “Aren’t we waiting for the Slytherins?” asked Hermione.

    “...No. I’ll explain on the train.” They clambered aboard, and once their trunks/coffin were stowed overhead, Hermione and Neville turned to her.

    “So, what happened?” prompted Hermione. 

    “Daphne, she… her mother has taken an… interest… in me. Which is kind of amusing, since the Greengrasses are the de facto leader of the Grey block, so I have all three political factions trying to kill or control me now.” Harriet said with a hollow chuckle. “Lady Greengrass and the Headmaster want to use me as a mascot, and Voldemort wants to kill me. Yes, Voldemort is alive, I’ll get to that in a second. Basically, I’d always known, through Mister Wright, that Daphne had been ordered by her mother to befriend me. But I always thought that she was genuine, and actually wanted to be my friend. But then when I visited her house over the summer, she asked me about some of my secrets while wearing an eavesdropping bracelet her mother gave her. I overlooked her being ordered to befriend me, and I overlooked her showing her mother her memories of the meetings in the South Tower, but this was the third strike.” Neville looked confused, but Hermione just gave her a sympathetic side-hug.

    “And the other Slytherins?” asked Neville.

    “Tracey is Daphne’s cousin, I have to assume that if one Greengrass is compromised they all are. And Blaise’s mother has an interest in me too, albeit not as strong as Lady Greengrass’s. Ugh. I’m not a Gryffindor, but I can see why Gryffindors hate them. At least I’m still cool with Millicent.” Harriet said.

    “Do you think you might be being a little harsh?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

    “Maybe.” conceded Harriet. “I know it’s not Daphne’s fault that her mom wants me to be her puppet, but she still went along with it. And it’s even less Blaise and Tracey’s fault. But the sad thing is that I can’t be making decisions based off of who I like, or what is fair. Because this isn’t fair to anyone, I’ll admit that, and I do like the three of them, but I can’t trust them. And it’s not just them, looking back I shouldn’t have let either set of twins into the South Tower meetings. You two are the only ones I can have any significant degree of trust in.”

    “Are you sure about that? Why not Bulstrode, or either of the twins?” challenged Hermione.

    “Bulstrode… Millicent has been through a lot. She likes me, but she’s not loyal to me, she’s not loyal to anyone but herself. The Patils… if Padma knows something, she will eventually tell Parvati. And if Parvati knows something, she will eventually tell everyone else. And the Weasleys… I might be able to trust them in the future, but we’re simply not there yet.”

    “Are you saying you think we’re loyal to you?” said Hermione.

    “Aren’t you? You guys are my friends, but you also have… personal reasons… not to betray me.”

    Hermione glared but didn’t disagree, and Harriet felt guilty at having played that card. Neville would never betray her because he felt like he was nothing without her, and Hermione would be terrified of being Lonely again. But even alluding to that left a bad taste in her mouth.

    “However, there is an upside to this. Remember at the South Tower when I said there were things I could tell some but not others? You are both part of the ‘some’. Meet me there after the welcome feast and you’ll find yourselves in on the secret.”

    “Really?” asked Neville, excited.

    “Really.” promised Harriet. “Now, I was wondering, Professor Sprout had hinted that we would be doing mandrakes this year…”

---

    “Potter. Come with me. Now.” said Professor Snape, picking her out of the crowd of students disembarking from the thestral-drawn carriages. (The thestrals were fun, Harriet got a kick out of them all bowing to her as she walked past. She also heard them quietly speaking Gravetongue to each other, and she was pleased she’d have someone- well, some thing to practice with.) She shrugged at Hermione and Neville and motioned for them to go on ahead. Professor Snape led her into an abandoned classroom where she was surprised to see Professor McGonagall waiting.

    “Professors. I hope you’re not leaving the first years unattended.” 

    “Sprout has them.” growled Snape. “Now tell me, what the fuck is Nikola Orsinov?”

    “Language, Severus! But yes, what is she and why is it that she mailed herself to the Headmaster minutes after Gilderoy Lockheart was melted?”

    “Lockheart was melted? So that’s what happens when you fail Mister Wright’s background check. For your second question, I think Nikki- Professor Orsinov, sorry, that’s gonna take some getting used to- I think she actually does want the DADA job. She probably thinks it’ll be fun, or at least that she can make it fun. As for the first question… yes, I can tell both of you. Meet me at the bottom of the South Tower after the feast, I’m going to be explaining some things to Neville and Hermione, and I’d rather have to explain this as few times as possible. Maybe I’ll make an explanation essay. No, I couldn’t risk that lying around. Anyways, South Tower after the feast. I’ll answer all your questions that I can there. Now can I go? I don’t want to miss the sorting!”

---

    “Are we sure this is the best idea?” asked Minerva as she and Severus walked towards the South Tower.

    “It doesn’t feel like a trap. And we could probably take her together.” he replied.

    “What if she has Orsinov?”

    “If Orsinov wanted to kill us, I don’t think she’d need to bother with a trap.” he said as they turned the corner into the hall leading to the South Tower. The door to the tower was already open, and Harriet, Hermione, and Neville were waiting there.

    “The other two are professors ?” exclaimed Hermione. “I thought you just changed your mind about one set of twins or the other!”

    “Hermione, please, the professors want the same answers you do, although they’re searching from a different direction. Anyways, perhaps the professors could provide us some seating and some privacy spells?” they rolled their eyes, but complied. “Excellent. Now, as you all know, there are people who have powers that are not from Lady Magic. They come from Fear.”

    There was a gaggle of voices as everyone tried to ask questions but Harriet quieted them. “I’ll answer questions at the end. Now the nature of capital-F Fear is as incomprehensible to the human mind as Lady Magic, but it generally has fourteen… aspects, I guess is the best way to put it.”

    “The Fourteen Headed Hydra!” gasped Snape. 

    “Yes, that’s one of the archaic terms. Each ‘aspect’ blends and overlaps with the others, but they’re generally fears of different things. Now the Fears generally affect the world in three ways: places of power, which can be anything from an old battlefield to an undersea canyon to a random muggle house. There are direct manifestations, which can take the form of artifacts or monsters. If you ever see a book with a plate that says ‘from the library of Jurgen Leitner’ it’s a direct manifestation and you should let me know immediately.”

    “Wait, so is the thing that killed Quirrell a direct manifestation?” asked Neville.

    “What thing that killed Quirrell? He’s alive, Professor Dumbledore just didn’t renew his contract because of his disappearing act at the beginning of the last school year.” said Minerva.

    “No, Neville is right Professor, both about Quirrell being dead and about him being killed by a direct manifestation. I’ll get to that later when I explain how all this relates to me. Anyways, the third way the Fears influence our world is through avatars, which is what Professor Orsinov is. She’s an avatar of the Stranger, the fear of the uncanny and the almost-human. Any questions before we get into how I’m involved in all this?” Not surprisingly, everyone raised their hand. “Okay, I should have expected this. Professor McGonagall?”

    “Why aren’t you telling Dumbledore any of this? I know he can be… frustrating… but I do believe he knows best.”

    “Because Professor Dumbledore is neither as wise nor as benevolent as you believe him to be. Already, he seeks to manipulate me. At best, he is grooming me to be his successor as leader of the light, at worst he wants me to be another pawn in his chess game and he is already planning how to get the most out of sacrificing me. Professor Snape?”

    “If Orsinov is literally an avatar of fear itself, why do you trust her? Wouldn’t it be best for everyone to kill her as soon as possible?”

    “I’ll get to why I trust Professor Orsinov when I explain how I fit into this picture. But suffice it to say it would take something like Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Grindelwald working together to take down Professor Orsinov. She was made to be an avatar, which makes her extremely powerful. Also, avatars are not inherently evil. Think of them like were- no, bad example. Think of them like vampires. Their instinct is to feed on the blood of humans. But some of them fight their instincts and only feed on animals, or feed non-lethally. Similarly, while avatars do need to cause fear, most of them hold themselves to some kind of behavioral standards. Mister Wright, for example, causes fear by knowing peoples secrets, and by them knowing he could reveal them, but he generally doesn’t unless he has a good reason to. Hermione?”

    “How exactly are avatars made?” she asked.

    “Excellent question. There are avatars who are born to be, like Professor Orsinov or my Auntie Agnes. But most avatars are simply people who earned the attention of a Fear, intentionally or not.”

    “You mean you can unintentionally become an avatar?” Hermione gasped.

    “Yes. In fact, most avatars didn’t know what they were becoming until it was too late. Everyone in this room has taken the first step, although for every thousand people who take the first step only one takes the second.”

    “Oh Merlin, what did we do?” asked Neville.

    “It’s nothing you’ve done, you’ve just been Marked, which means you’ve been affected by a Fear to a degree where it changes how you think or act. It can come from a single traumatic event, or slowly emerge due to persistent circumstances. You’ve been Marked by the Vast, Hermione by the Lonely, Professor McGonagall by the Desolation, and Professor Snape by the Desolation and the Eye. It’s why I’m able to tell you all about this.”

    “What’s the Eye, and the Vast, and all this?” asked Hermione.

    “They’re the common names for the Fourteen. There’s the Buried, which is the fear of being trapped. Usually by tight spaces, but it can also manifest through burdens of responsibility or obligation, financial troubles, or societal expectations. The Corruption is the fear of rot and decay, it manifests as bugs, mold, and filth. The Dark is the fear of, well, the dark, but also of the unknown and of being kept ignorant. The Desolation is the fear of pain, both emotional and physical. It can affect you through burning you or through taking a loved one.” Harriet saw the understanding glances Neville and Hermione sent towards the professors, both had lost people they cared about in the last war. “The End is the fear of death. Rather simple. The Eye is the fear of being exposed, of being judged, and of having your secrets being known. The Flesh is the fear of being nothing more than your body, of just being meat. It can be a fear of being eaten or butchered, but it is also a fear of objectification. The Hunt is that primal fear of being chased, of being prey. The Lonely is the fear of being alone, outcast, and accepted by no one.” Harriet noted Neville putting an arm around Hermione and smiled. “The Slaughter is often described as a fear of war, but ultimately it comes down to the fear of senseless, irrational violence, and humanity’s propensity for it. The Spiral is the fear of being unable to trust your own senses or judgement. It’s the fear of insanity and hallucinations, but also of gaslighting and betrayal. The Stranger, as I said, is the fear of the uncanny: dolls, clowns, mannequins, et cetera. The Vast is the fear of heights, but also of being too small or not enough. And the Web is the fear of manipulation, or not being in control, but somehow also of spiders and literal webs. I always thought spiders made more sense for the Corruption and webs for the Corruption or the Buried, but apparently the symbolism and connotations associated with them have effectively allowed the Web to poach them for its own identity.”

    “I feel like I should be taking notes.” Professor Snape said dryly. 

    “Hermione will probably trade a copy of hers for potions tips. Anyway, this should lay the groundwork for me to explain why I’m involved the way I am. See, there was this guy, Tom Riddle-” Professor Snape froze. “-better known by the moniker he later adopted, Lord Voldemort. He made these foul devices called horcruxes, by using murder to split his soul and put a piece in an object, so that if his body was destroyed, his soul would not pass on.” All the listeners looked suitably horrified. “Which means that yes, Riddle is not dead. Because the dumb fu- because the dumb fool did not make one horcrux, he made five, and intended to use my death to create a sixth, because he wanted his soul to be in seven pieces, what with it being a magically powerful number. Although souls actually operate on a base-seventeen system, but we should consider ourselves lucky we don’t have sixteen horcruxes to find.”

    “Why’d he want to kill you to make a horcrux?” asked Hermione. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to use your parents? I read they were really involved in the fight against him.”

    “Excellent question, Hermione! This is why I say you won Ravenclaw the house cup last year. See, horcruxes aren’t the only frustrating piece of esoteric magic at play here; there’s also a prophecy involved.” Harriet shot a glance at Professor Snape, whose face was expressionless but who’s fear she could feel radiating from him in waves. “The prophecy basically said ‘a kid is gonna be born at the end of July of 1980 to parents who thrice defied Riddle who could defeat him. Riddle will mark them, they’ll have a power he doesn’t know about, and one of them will kill the other.’ A Death Eater overheard the first part of the prophecy and told Riddle, who decided to try and nip it in the bud and kill the child of the prophecy. It could have arguably been Neville instead of me, his parents met the defiance requirement and he was born on the second to last day of the month. I don’t know why Riddle chose me, maybe it was simply because my birth was closer to the end of the month. Anyways, he gave my mom the opportunity to escape, which he refused, so she died to protect me, which accidentally activated ancient blood magic that required a mother to sacrifice herself for her child. So his killing curse bounced back on himself. And at that point his soul was unstable enough that he accidentally made me into a horcrux when he died. And don’t worry, it’s long gone.” she said when everyone started speaking again.

    “Now, here’s the thing about horcruxes: remember how one of the Fears is the End? Normally the End is extremely passive. After all, everyone dies eventually, so it’s cool to just let things play out, since it always wins eventually. But it does not like horcruxes. Interestingly, it doesn’t mind other methods of immortality, but I think it just finds horcruxes lazy. Or maybe it’s the whole soul-tearing thing. Anyway, it was content to borrow other avatars to warn off Riddle when he was making horcruxes intentionally. But when his soul was unstable enough that he started making accidental horcruxes, the End decided to take a more active role. Normally, I think it would have just sent a Reaper to destroy the horcruxes and then Riddle. He would’ve been dead in half an hour. But there was the whole prophecy thing that essentially means nobody can kill Riddle until he’s killed me, or vice versa. And since Riddle was incorporeal, the End couldn’t just give him a do-over on killing me, so the End basically strong-armed the other Fears into making me an avatar of all of them, raised by a small army of avatars. Also Mister Dekker and Mister Michael.”

    Once more, she had to hush everyone. “So, to update everyone on Voldemort: he possessed Quirrell and used him to steal the Philosopher’s Stone from Gringotts a year ago, and used the Elixer of Life to create himself a new body. He’s been hiding somewhere unplottable, since the Eye can’t get an exact location. All we know is that he’s in Wiltshire.”

    “Malfoy Manor… Oh Merlin. Malfoy Manor is in Wiltshire.” said Snape.

    “That’s excellent intel, thank you Professor! As for the horcruxes, they’ve all been similarly enchanted to be unplottable. But we know what they are and have general locations. There’s a locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin and a cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff somewhere in London. There’s a ring with a Desolation artifact set in it that was in Little Hangleton until Riddle visited there, at which point it began moving with him, so we can assume he’s wearing it. Fortunately the horcrux is the ring, rather than the artifact in the ring, so Mister Wright can track the ring whenever it isn’t in an unplottable location by tracking the artifact rather than the ring itself. Anyway, there’s a snake that he only created after his resurrection, it’s been staying in Wiltshire too. There’s Ravenclaw’s diadem, somewhere in the highlands that we assume is at Hogwarts with us. But there’s one more that’s giving us some problems. It’s a diary, and it’s been moving, but not along with Riddle. It had been in Wiltshire for a while before going to London, then a town called Ottery St. Catchpole, before going back to London on September 1st. I’m waiting on a letter from Mister Wright, but it going back to London on the first minutes before the Hogwarts Express departed is too big of a coincidence, so I’m working under the assumption that the diary is currently in the possession of the diary, or the diary is currently in possession of a student.”

    “Merlin!” gasped Minerva. “But Ottery St Catchpole… that narrows things down quite a bit. There are only a few magical families who live around there.”

    “Correct. In fact, there are four, all of whom have students attending Hogwarts. The Weasleys, the Diggorys, the Lovegoods, and the Bulstrodes.”

    “One for each house. Lovely.” said Hermione.

    “Well what are we waiting for? Obviously we search them for the diary!” said McGonagall.

    “It’s not that simple.” said Snape and Harriet simultaneously. “We’d need Professor Dumbledore’s permission first of all, and he’d want answers I’m not prepared to give him.” Harriet explained. “And even if we did have him on our side, he’d need more evidence than a second-hand report originating from a muggle. Fortunately, while our suspected horcrux-holders are in all four houses, so are we. Professor McGonagall can monitor the Weasleys, Neville and I can keep an eye on Cedric Diggory, Hermione can watch Luna Lovegood- she needs friends anyways, Hermione, she’s got multiple Marks, and one of them is the Lonely. I can watch Millicent Bulstrode, and Professor Snape can watch Herman Bulstrode.”

    “Okay, but what exactly are we watching for?” asked Hermione.

    “Signs of possession. Antisocial behavior, disappearing alone for significant portions of time, unusual gain or loss of appetite, sudden weight loss, personality changes, memory loss. I wasn’t joking when I said it was as likely that the diary was in possession of a student as it was that a student was in possession of the diary. The diary was designed differently from the other horcruxes, more as a weapon than a failsafe. It’s meant to possess people. The only good thing is that it was the first horcrux created, before he even left Hogwarts, so the version of Riddle in the horcrux won’t have all the knowledge that corporeal Riddle has, although if he knew how to make horcruxes before he left Hogwarts, assume the worst.”

    “Okay. That’s doable. But can we back up to the part where you’re an avatar of all the Fears?” asked Minerva.

    “Of course. What needs clarification?”

    “Well, you said avatars feed on fear, right? How do you feed? And how does Orsinov feed?”

    “Good question.” said Harriet. “I’m only just beginning to need to feed, and right now I’m honestly kind of in a cycle where I can satiate my appetite by consuming my own fear. I’m afraid of what I might become, and for now, that’s good enough. Although I suspect you all will feel some degree of fear or unease around me while you get used to the idea that I’m not entirely human, and that will feed me too. Professor Orsinov is probably going to survive off of the fear that you and the Headmaster have of her, as well as the general unease that her appearance produces among the general student population. But she’ll probably go scare the life out of a tour group at a wax museum after she’s fired or something.”

    “Literally or figuratively scare the life out of them?” asked Neville. Harriet simply shrugged.

    “Right… so what exactly happened to Quirrell and Lockheart?” asked Snape.

    “Right, so like I said Quirrell was serving Riddle. Over winter break Riddle ordered him to kill me, so Professor Orsinov beat him to the punch and had a creature kill and replace him, both physically and in everybody’s memories except Terry Fulton. As for Lockheart, Mister Wright wouldn’t say exactly why, but he said Lockheart failed his background check in ‘the most disgusting and reprehensible way possible’ and based off of the cause of death, I’m guessing Auntie Agnes decided to kill him, or was asked to. I’m pretty sure Mister Wright told Professor Orsinov the details of what exactly earned Lockheart a visit from the Messiah of the Lightless Flame, if you want to ask her.”

    “Wait, Harriet- is that magic coffin Susan and Hannah were talking about one of those direct manifestations?”

    “Yeah, it leads to the Buried. Like, if you go inside it you will actually be in the Buried’s personal pocket dimension. It lets me use it for storage because I’m an avatar of the Buried and I think it actually likes me, as much as the Fears can like anyone, but if anyone else went in they would not come back out. Unless I asked nicely, but that’s still a big question mark.”

    “So what exactly are your avatar powers?” Hermione asked excitedly, and Harriet felt a twinge of pain as she remembered Daphne asking a version of that same question with the same excited curiosity.

    “Nothing super big yet. Right now a lot of it is sensory enhancement, although a lot of that is foundational for other things. But let’s see, Fear by Fear. Well, I can use Fear to augment certain spells, depending on the Fear and the Spell. Like, I can use the Slaughter to make Confodio shoot a bullet instead of a spellbeam. And I can sense Marks. But anyways Fear specific powers. I haven’t focused much on the Buried yet, but I can use it to make my Incarcerous into chains that crush someone’s chest. The Corruption lets me make some pranking hexes significantly nastier, and I can sense sickness and disease if I try. I can use the Dark to turn invisible if I’m standing still and in shadows. Which is good, but situational, although Mister Rayner says it’ll become much more flexible and versatile as I get stronger. My connection to the Desolation gives me an affinity for fire- I can perfectly control Fiendfyre, for example. Also, I can Burn myself from one place to another like a phoenix, although for me it’s extraordinarily painful, so it’s a last resort. The End has given me immunity from ‘insta-kills’ like the killing curse, though I can still die from regular things. Just not things that do no damage aside from killing. The Eye gives me perfect vision and hearing, knowledge of when I’m being spied on, vastly improved memory, and it occasionally slips me little warnings or pieces of information, thought they’re usually just to let me be a little spooky.”

    “So that’s how you always know who it is when I knock on your dorm door!” exclaimed Neville.

    “Yup! Although now that you know my trick it probably won’t tell me anymore. Although then again, maybe it will just to remind you. Anyway, I’m working on flesh-shaping, which basically allows me to morph my body or someone else’s. Right now I can only do little things like turn my nails into claws or temporarily strengthen my muscles or bones.”

    “You do realize that what you call ‘little things’ are considered incredibly advanced self-transfiguration, right?” asked Minerva.

    “Intermediate flesh-shapers can grow or remove limbs at will. Making myself able to bring in all the groceries in two trips instead of three is nothing. Anyway, the Hunt is a lot of sensory enhancement too. Better sense of smell and balance, and according to Grandpa Trevor I smell like a Hunter now, which apparently will make other Hunters recognize me and treat me differently. The Lonely lets me turn unnoticeable, but takes me about five minutes of meditating with nobody looking at me for me to get that, but the upside is that I can move around stuff. The Slaughter mostly just lets me augment combat spells right now, but it makes me significantly more lethal when I choose to be. I haven’t done much with the Spiral either, it and the buried are the only Fears I don’t know an avatar of. But it gives me a door when I need one, and later I’m going to be able to give people hallucinations and delusions, based on what books we’ve got. I haven’t done much with the Stranger either, although I think one of the reasons Nikki became Professor Orsinov was so that she’d be able to tutor me this year. I don’t have much from the Web other than some augmented spells and an immunity to mental magical manipulation. And the Vast… Well…” 

    Minerva gasped as Harriet began floating. “I’m not allowed to fly outside yet, I still lose control occasionally, but Grandpa Fairchild says in a few years I’ll be able to perfectly manipulate gravity and air.”

    “Thank Merlin you’re not interested in Quidditch, if this is what you can do without a broom.” muttered Minerva. “Well, I’ll probably have more questions for you later, but it’s getting close to curfew. Thank you for trusting us with this. I promise we won’t let you down.”

    “Of course. And remember to keep an eye on the Ottery St Catchpole families! And if you do find the diary, bring it to me immediately! I need to get the scent so that I can home in on the other horcruxes. And once the horcruxes are done, so is Riddle.”

Chapter Text

    “Why can’t this new Professor just use the regular DADA classroom?” grumbled Blaise as he, Tracey, and Daphne attempted to find the room that was on their course schedule for DADA.

    “I know, right? I didn’t even know Hogwarts had lecture halls! I think it’s a right up here.” said Tracey.

    “Hey, at least the schedules are more balanced this year. I still don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking having almost all our classes be with the Gryffindors last year.” said Daphne.

    “It’s Dumbledore, he’s never gotten promotions for being competent at the job.” scoffed Tracey. “Who do we have DADA with this year?”

    “The… Hufflepuffs…” said Daphne.

    “Ah. Maybe she just needed some time?” asked Blaise half-heartedly.

    “I doubt it. We really- I really fucked up. I hope she’ll forgive me eventually, but I’m not holding out hope. I’m just trying to get over… ya know…”

    “Ah, gotcha, gotcha. Maybe Susan Bones? She’s started to, ya know, grow over the summer.”

    Tracey gave him a semi-playful shove. “Heir Zabini, that was very crass of you!” 

    “I’m just pointing out the facts!” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Although you are indeed correct that I could have worded that more delicately. Please forgive my tactless buffoonery.”

    Blaise and Tracey were laughing all the way until Daphne stopped outside a nondescript looking door. “Here we are, Lecture Hall 1.”

---

    Yes, this is the place, Harriet thought as she walked into Lecture Hall 1. It looked like a fairly normal lecture hall; it was shaped like an amphitheater, with rows of seats surrounding a sort of central stage. It was brightly lit by torches on the walls, but it still felt shockingly empty as the class of 20 took their pick of the seating arrangements made for 200. She saw the Slytherins had already arrived (the Buried hadn’t wanted to let go of her cloak for some strange reason) and she noticed Daphne shooting her a furtive glance before blushing and getting out a roll of parchment to take notes.

    Harriet sighed and considered sitting by her for a brief moment before she went to sit next to Millicent. “Hey Millicent!” she said cheerfully.

    “Hello Potter.” she said much more evenly. Harriet sighed. She had given permission for Millicent to call her Harriet not long after the troll incident last year, but she still didn’t. Harriet suspected it was some sort of defense mechanism. “What do you think we’re in here for?” Millicent asked.

    The lights went out. “I think we’re about to find out.” whispered Harriet as a drumroll began. Two spotlights began sweeping around the room, harshly illuminating the students and the walls, the latter of which were suddenly covered with ornate masks, ancient skins, and glass-eyed taxidermies. The lights settled on the central dias and the drumroll finished with a crash of cymbals and a puff of smoke onstage that quickly cleared to reveal Nikki- Professor Orsinov, she reminded herself- Professor Orsinov standing there, in full ringmaster getup, complete with top hat and a cane Harriet knew would be waved around vigorously while talking.

    “Hello, class!” she said brightly. “Welcome to Self Defense, otherwise known as Defense Against the Dark Arts! I am Nikola Orsinov, otherwise known as Nikki or Professor Orsinov! But if any of you call me Nikki in class I’ll skin you alive!” she said, her tone not faltering in its cheerfulness as she casually threatened torture. Harriet heard someone nervously laughing further back in the class before they cut themselves off upon realizing nobody was joining them.

    “Now, I understand that last year you all focused on theory .” she said, as if theory was a hideous monster that had insulted her mother and killed her pet. “I don’t put a lot of stock in theory . It’s all words, to me! After all, if a crazed murderer is coming at you with a knife, you can’t disarm them with theory . Now, I believe this class meets twice a week, yes? Mondays and Wednesdays? We’ll be meeting here on Wednesdays for discussion based learning, and we’ll be meeting in the Entrance Hall on Mondays for action based learning! Now, I was told that you all need to have a course syllabus and a textbook. I think both of those things are rather silly, but the Goat was very insistent, so your homework for today is to bring a book you think you could learn something about self defense from and to bring one thing you want to learn about, that way everyone has a textbook and a syllabus! Ooh, my first question as a professor! Yes, Draco?”

    Harriet watched, amused, as Draco spluttered at Professor Orsinov. He didn’t seem to be able to make up his mind between objecting to the lack of a uniform textbook, objecting to the idea of spending half the class outside, or simply informing Professor Orsinov that his father would be hearing about this. She seemed content to let him flounder though, and eventually he settled on asking if the Headmaster knew about this.

    “Professor Dumbledore does not know the specifics of how I plan on structuring this course, no, but I’ll tell you a secret, Draco: I care exceptionally little what he thinks of me!” she said with a giggle. Insane sounding, naturally. “See, originally the Goat hired a man by the name of Gilderoy Lockheart.” Harriet chuckled at the various gasps around the room. “Unfortunately, the Goat doesn’t actually run background checks on any of the staff, so an independent organization took it upon themselves to review Lockfart’s credentials. They found that not only was he wholly incompetent as a wizard, but he was also a pathetic worm who had no business teaching children how to tie their own shoes, much less how to defend themselves.”

    “Hey! Lockheart is a great wizard! Have you even read any of his books?” shouted Tracey.

    “I’ve read enough to know that he claims to have been in Georgia fighting werewolves at the same time he claims to have been in Borneo dealing with a lethifold infestation!” replied Professor Orsinov with a smile. “Also, I believe you meant ‘was a shoddy wizard’ rather than ‘is a great one’. See, when one fails a background check as egregiously as Lockfart did, the consequences are rather severe! But enough about that, you’re here to learn how to protect yourself from Severe Consequences, not how to incur them! Let’s do a thought exercise! Emma had a bunch of good ideas for those. Don’t bother raising your hands, this is going to be a discussion! So, what would you do if I started attacking you right now?”

    “I… what?” asked Blaise.

    “It’s a thought exercise, I’m not actually going to do it! But say I shot a skinning curse at one of you right now, what do you do?”

    “Run?” suggested Tracey at the same time Draco said “Can you teach us the skinning curse?”

    “Good answer, Tracey! Bad answer, Draco! This scenario supposes I used the skinning curse on you with intent to skin you, rather than intent to educate you!”

    Harriet sat back in her chair with a grin. She was going to enjoy DADA this year.

---

    “She’s a little loony, isn’t she?” said Ron to his friends as the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws walked out of their first DADA lesson.

    “She had some good points though. Defending yourself is more than just spells.” interjected Terry Boot.

    “Yeah, but spells are the main bit. Besides, this is magic school, I came here to learn magic!” said Seamus Finnegan.

    “I dunno mate, I’m actually on Orsinov’s side here. Like, especially if there was like, an angry muggle with a gun. Bullets are too fast to shield or dodge.” said Dean Thomas. “Or if you were in a situation without your wand.”

    “That’s all super specific though.” Ron said dismissively. 

    “Not really. There’s any number of ways to lose your wand.” pointed out Padma.

    “And besides, maybe she’s a little off, but that’s probably just her settling into her new job.” said Parvati, ignoring her sister’s snort of mirth. “And it’s not the main point, but she looks spectacular! What did you say her clothes were called, Dean?”

    “A Ringmaster’s outfit. They’re muggle entertainers. But like, really seedy ones.”

    “You’re just jealous she pulls it off so well!” said Lavender Brown. “I’m definitely getting a hat like hers.”

    “She looks like something out of a slasher flick! She’s literally got clown makeup!” Dean sighed frustratedly.

    “Mate, you do realize that none of us know what a ‘slasher fic’ or a ‘clown’ is, right?” said Seamus.

    “Hey, I know what a clown is! They’re the muggle politicians.” Ron said. “Although I dunno what a slash fic is either.”

---

    “Hey Harriet?” Hermione asked nervously.

    “Yeah?” said Harriet, erecting a privacy spell since they were sitting in a nook in the library and this sounded sensitive.

    “You said you can see Marks, and that I have a Lonely Mark. Did I- I had it on the train when we first met, didn’t I?”

    “Yes you did.” Harriet said, with a suspicion she knew where this was going.

    “Do you- I feel so awful for asking this, but I’d feel awful if I didn’t. Are you friends with me because I’m Marked?” Hermione asked, looking away.

    “Yes and no.” Harriet said, putting a comforting hand on top of her friend’s. “I first noticed you because I felt someone looking at me who didn’t want to be seen back, which always gets my attention, and I felt your Lonely Mark. It felt like a long term one, so I decided to invite you to sit with me out of pity, I’ll admit. But I wouldn’t have continued to be your friend if I didn’t like and trust you. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

    “...okay. Thanks Harriet. You’re a great friend.”

---

    “Are we clear?”

    “All clear. Wingardium Leviosa!” Fred grinned as his twin levitated him into the rafters over the Entrance Hall. He began carefully making his way across the rafters, applying sticking charms and time-delayed activation spells to the portable fog pouches he and his brother had invented. When students were coming into the Great Hall for breakfast in a few hours they wouldn’t be able to see more than a few inches in front of their face.

    “Hello there!” whispered a voice in his ear, causing Fred to shriek, flinch, and fall off the rafter he was perched on. He heard George scream, and suddenly he felt an unnaturally firm hand grab his arm and yank him back into the rafters.

    “P-Professor Orsinov? What are you doing here?” he asked. Honestly, that was far from his only question, given that she was clinging to the ceiling like a spider, had her neck unnaturally twisted so she could look at him the right way up, and her arm was un-extending back to normal size after it had shot out to catch him.

    “I’m doing my patrols, of course! Looking for naughty students out of bed, that sort of thing.” she said dismissively. “It’s rather boring.”

    “We’re gonna get so many detentions, aren’t we?” Fred asked resignedly.

    “I haven’t decided yet! I think it depends on what’s in those pouches you’re sticking up here.”

    “Magical fog. They’re set to release just before breakfast tomorrow. I’ll remove them, of course, and-”

    “Nonsense! As long as it’s just regular old fog, I don’t see the harm in it! In fact, take ten points to Gryffindor for inventiveness and playful mischief!”

    “You’re… you’re giving us points for playing a prank?” Fred asked confusedly.

    “Sure! It’s not like you’re going to kill someone or de-moisturize their skin!”

    “Really? This isn’t some trick?”

    “Nope! In fact, as one entertainer to another, I’ll even stay here until you’re done in case you fall again!”

    “I… okay. Wow. Thanks Professor!”

    She didn’t need to catch him again, and soon enough George was levitating him back to the ground and the Professor tipped her hat to them before scuttling off across the ceiling. The twins were unusually quiet as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

    “That was weird as fuck.” Fred said quietly once they were safely sitting in front of the fireplace in their common room.

    “I’ll say. That woman is not entirely human, is she?”

    “No, I don’t think so. I’ve got no idea what, though. She can climb on walls and stuff like a vampire, and she has reflexes like a werewolf, but neither of those explain how her arm extended to catch me, or how her neck was twisted around.”

    “That’s not the weirdest bit for me. I looked at the Map while you were up there. She… doesn’t work normally.” George said nervously. “She didn’t appear as a dot. She was one of those grinning Greek comedy masks. She didn’t have a name. And when she left the room, the mask winked before vanishing.”

    “No… that’s impossible. I thought we established that the map draws its information directly from the Hogwarts wards!”

    “It’s impossible, and yet it happened. Maybe we should ask the Marauders?”

    “Worth a shot.” said Fred, tapping the map with his wand. “Oh great forebearers, how would one trick this wonderful map?”

    Messer Padfoot scoffs at the notion that an artifact as genius as this could be tricked by anything other than direct tampering with the map itself.

    Messer Prongs concurs, and reminds the Messers Weasley that this map taps directly into the wards of the school, so to fool the map one would need to fool the wards.

    Messer Moony agrees with Messer Prongs, seeing as he designed the damn thing, but notes that the wards are not foolproof, and could be adjusted by the Headmaster or a sufficiently powerful wizard.

    Messer Wormtail would like to note that something messed with the map earlier, and just because it didn’t feel like magic doesn’t mean his fellow Marauders should just ignore it.

    “Interesting.” said Fred.

    “Very interesting.” agreed George.

---

    Nikola heard a knock on her door. Oh goody, visitors! She stood up, put on her Professor skin, and opened the door. “Severus! Minerva! What a pleasant surprise! I do hope we can put that whole death-threat thing behind us!”

    “Ah, yes, of course.” Minerva said awkwardly. “Might we have a moment of your time?”

    “Of course! Come in! Sit down! What can I do for my fellow educators this lovely day?” She smiled at the tightness on Severus’s face. He really needed to loosen up. And maybe try a different shampoo.

    “Yes, listen, Orsinov, if that’s even your real name, (“It isn’t!”) Harriet’s told us everything, but we have a few lingering questions we’d prefer you answer.” said Minerva.

    “Oh, she has, has she? That’s wonderful! I can’t believe my little sister is already gathering her own minions!”

    “We’re not minions!” snapped Severus.

    “Sure you aren’t! Now, you said you had questions?”

    “Yes. What exactly did Lockheart do to fail Wright’s background check, and how did he die?” asked Severus.

    “Excellent questions! The answer to your first question is in here.” Nikola said, dropping a stack of files on her desk. “I anticipated there might be some questions from my colleagues, so I made a copy for every member of the staff. Except the Goat. I will warn you, there are pictures.” Nikola saw Minerva’s face turn pale as she browsed through one of the folders. “As for your second question, Severus, I believe Lockfart’s fate was left in the molten hands of one of my brethren, an avatar of the Desolation by the name of Agnes Montague. I think you’d like her, Severus, you’re both dangerous and absolutely no fun! I mean can you imagine how much fun you could have if you worked with the Weasley twins instead of against them?”

    “I’d rather chug bubotuber pus.” Severus said venomously

“Fine, fine! It was just a suggestion! Do you have any other questions?”

“Yes. Why did you become a teacher?”

“Well, I got the idea when Harri was telling me about her classes. I thought Defense Against the Dark Arts sounded fascinating! But then she told me about how Quirrell taught it, and I was appalled! Nothing but theory! Disgusting! I thought, I could do better than that! And then I thought, why shouldn’t I give it a shot? If Manuella can be a professor and an avatar, why can’t I? So I threw my hat into the ring for the job! The Goat’s first choice was unacceptable, so here I am!”

“I see.” said Severus. “Now, could you perhaps explain what exactly your lesson plans are? I’ve had some… interesting reports from my students.”

“I’d be concerned if any reports about my class weren’t interesting! My plan is to have this class be about comprehensive self-defense, rather than strictly focusing on combative magic, in large part because I can’t actually perform any magic myself- and I really want to see how long it takes the Goat to figure that out, so don’t spoil it! Anyway, my plan is for about half my lessons to be outdoors, with students practicing duelling with each other or doing some form of physical exercise. After all, you can’t run away from certain doom if running causes you to cough up a lung! My indoor classes are mostly going to be thought exercises to get students thinking in a way conducive to their survival in a dangerous situation. Namely, convincing the Gryffindors that there are some fights they can’t win, convincing the Hufflepuffs that there are some friends you can’t save, and convincing the Ravenclaws that there are some things you can’t study, and convincing the Slytherins that there are some people you can’t talk down. Although I understand that the fifth and seventh years have some tests that are apparently important, and those tests apparently cover theory, so I do plan on helping them with that, much as I loathe theory. Maybe if we get the stone from the ring I’ll bring back Quirrell and make him teach that.”

“Wait, the stone from the horcrux ring?” asked Severus.

“Yes, it’s the Resurrection Stone. Did Harriet not explain that?”

“No!” exclaimed Severus. “She just said it was a Desolation artifact!”

“Well, she didn’t lie. The Deathly Hallows are just three spooky items. Ironically, only one of them is actually a manifestation of the End. Dumbledore’s wand is a manifestation of the Slaughter, it boosts the wielder’s magical core, but it will never want to stop fighting, so if the wielder doesn’t have strong self control they’ll be swept up in the Song of the Slaughter and won’t stop killing until everyone within range is dead.”

“Dumbledore’s wand? Dumbledore has the Elder Wand?” squaked Severus.

“Yes, try to keep up. The Resurrection Stone requires even more self control than the Wand. It creates shades of the dead to be commanded by the wielder. In a responsible user’s hands, the Stone is a gateway to the wisdom and secrets of the dead. But a weak person will torture themselves with the shades of departed loved ones, hence why it’s a Desolation artifact.”

“And the Dark Lord has this?” gasped Snape.

“Yes, but he doesn’t know he does. But since Harriet is an avatar of the Desolation and the last Peverell, she’ll just recall the Stone to her if Wright tells her Tom has figured it out. Same for if the Goat loses control of the Slaughterwand.”

“...I can’t believe you actually said something reassuring.” Severus grumbled.

“Oh please! I’m a monster, not an asshole! Anyways, the True Invisibility Cloak is the End artifact. It grants immunity to instant kills, just like Harriet’s scar, which is why she isn’t that bothered by the Goat holding onto it even though it’s her father’s. If she did have it she’d probably just lend it to whichever of her friends she felt was most at risk of catching an AK.”

“Okay. What about combining them? Does that really make one Master of Death?”

“I mean, I guess. It’s just a title though. The only people who would care about it would be fools, and the Reapers are… well, they’re fools, but they’re damn good at their jobs. Being Master of Death is like being a Dark Lord. It’s a title, and it takes some effort to earn it, but the title itself doesn’t do anything.”

    “I see. Do I even want to know about Reapers?”

    “They’re fools. Some people are so desperate not to die that they’ll try to play a game with a Reaper and bet their life. Of course, their life is already forfeit, but most Reapers indulge them. You can’t win against Death, though, so the only way to win is if you cheat. And if you win, your reward is replacing the Reaper you beat and allowing them to pass on. Moral of the story, always respect Terminus! Sometimes you even get a little sister for your cooperation!”

    “You really love Harriet, don’t you?” asked Minerva, having set aside the dossier and rejoined the conversation. Nikola was quiet for a moment.

    “Huh. You know, I never really thought about it, but I guess I do. Fascinating! You’ve helped me learn something, Minerva! That doesn’t happen a lot anymore! Thank you!”

    “Er, right. You’re welcome, I suppose? I think I’m going to give the staff their copies of this before the staff meeting. I think we need to have a chat with Albus about his hiring practices.”

---

    Ginny Weasley sat down at her desk and opened her diary to the first page.

    Dear Diary

    My name is Ginny Weasley. I don’t really know how one is supposed to write in a diary. 

    Ginny paused to decide how to continue. Then she gave a little shriek as the diary began writing back.

    Hello Ginny. It’s alright if you don’t know how to write a diary, I’m not a normal diary anyway. My name’s Tom.

    Nope, thought Ginny. Nope, nope, nope, she thought as she opened the window by her desk. Nope nope nopity-nope, she thought as she flung the diary out the window. It was her first year at Hogwarts, she was not going to have it ruined by some creepy journal.

---

    “Albus Middle Names Dumbledore, you’ve got some explaining to do!” 

    Nikola smiled serenely at Professor Flitwick opening the staff meeting by shouting at their boss.

    “What heinous crime have I committed this time, Filius?” the Goat said.

    “It’s not what heinous crime you’ve committed, it’s what heinous crimes your original hire committed!” Filius shouted, flinging his copy of the Lockheart file at Albus.

    “Filius, please, calm down.” Albus said, before opening the file and making a strangled squeak.

    “Yeah, you get it now, don’t you?” the half goblin spat. “Whatever it is that happened to that bastard, I’m very glad it did!”

    “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Lockfart was melted in this very castle!” Nikola interjected, causing Albus to wince and all the staff except for Severus and Minerva to express some form of shock.

    “Well good riddance!” shouted Filius. “However, I would now ALSO like to know why you didn’t find it pertinent to alert the staff to a sudden and violent death on Hogwarts grounds!”

    “Filius, please, calm yourself. As for your first concern: I have clearly been remiss in not thoroughly vetting applicants and I assure you that I will be doing so in the future. As for why you were not alerted to Lockheart’s death, I did not want to cause a panic.”

    “Oh, so telling us he was dead would have caused a panic, but not having a bunch of… aurors… you didn’t inform the DMLE, did you?” Filius said with a sigh.

    “I am handling it with Hogwarts sovereignty.” Albus said primly.

    “Which I assume means you’ve alerted the Board of Governors, seeing as they need to approve any issues in which the Headmaster seeks to invoke Hogwarts sovereignty.” Severus said calmly, and Nikola felt like she could kiss him if it wouldn’t ruin her makeup and he wouldn’t hate it.

    “I, ah, have not yet done that, you know how busy things have been preparing for the start of the year, but I’ll make sure to do that right after this meeting.” the Goat said nervously, causing Nikola to grin.

    “That’s excellent, Al!” Nikola said with a smile that only grew wider at the Goat’s glare. And she also caught Minerva hiding a grin, which was an added bonus.

    “Right, now, let us move on to the first item on our agenda. Professor Orsinov, I’ve heard some tales that you had students choose their own textbook and create their own syllabus? That’s… highly unorthodox.”

    “Not as unorthodox as concealing that a murder happened for two weeks! But I digress! I did have my students set their own learning goals, so that they will be more personally invested in them and be better motivated to achieve them! I think students learn much better from hands on experience and thoughtful discussion than from some stuffy old textbook, don’t you?”

    “Perhaps, but the Board of Governors still requires regular-”

    “Oh, fuck off Al! You’ve never given a hoot about the Board so neither will I!” Nikola said with a smile. 

    “Now see here Professor, I’ve given you significant leeway with your teaching methods and personal behavior” Albus lectured “but you still need to maintain some sense of professionalism and respect for authority!”

    “Why Headmaster!” began Nikola, setting her smile to unsettling-but-still-plausibly-human. “I had no idea you placed such a value on professionalism and respect for authority! I mean, really, how could I, seeing as how you are regularly over-familiar with people and make unilateral decisions with no regards to the legality of your choices or their effects on others. I mean, Lockfart is hardly the first time you’ve let an incident go unreported, isn’t it? Need I remind you about the troll incident? And your part in it?” 

    Albus’s eyes were wide at the implied threat, and Nikola decided to add insult to injury by shooting him a wink rather than by bringing up Gellert or his family.

    “I see.” he said coldly. “Moving on, then. Severus, I’ve had some more complaints from the Gryffindors about your point taking…”

Chapter Text

    “Hey Harriet, I was wondering, about your letter this summer…” Neville began, more nervously than usual.

    “Which- ah. That letter. One moment.” Harriet put up privacy charms around their corner of the Hufflepuff Common Room. “You haven’t… changed your mind about being okay with it, have you?” she asked worriedly.

    “No, I was wondering, what ever happened with… did you kill more people?” he asked quietly.

    Harriet sighed. “Kind of. One of my mentors is Alfred Grifter.” she began, pausing to grin at the awe on Neville’s face. “Grifter’s Bone plays wizard rock most of the time, but Uncle Al is an avatar of the Slaughter. So sometimes, he goes and plays different music, open to anyone who finds their way in. And he plays the Song of the Slaughter. See, some of the Fears have… motifs, is what Mister Wright calls them. Imagery the Fear seems to be fond of. That’s one of the theories for how spiders became part of the fear of manipulation, it was a motif that became as feared as what it signified. Anyway, the Slaughter likes music, so often times it is felt as a tune that drives the unprepared mind into a state of uncontrollable bloodlust. So at his off the books performances, the audience just… rips each other apart. Uncle Al calls it the mosh pit; he says one day he’ll put me in the audience to test me. But all I did this summer was play alongside him.”

    “Wow, okay… so setting aside the fact that one of wizarding Europe’s most famous rockstars is an avatar and one of your guardians, what was it like? Is playing the Song of the Slaughter different from playing regular music?” Neville asked curiously.

    “It was… intense. It sort of felt like what I imagine drugs or sex feels like. It was so good, but I was distinctly aware that I was entirely in control of myself or my decision making. I was just… a conduit for the Song. But to answer your original question, I didn’t kill anyone, but I did encourage people to kill each other. But it served a purpose; being a part of the Song seriously strengthened my connection to the Slaughter; I can infuse it into spells at will. I’ll show you sometime. Say, we should start duelling practice! I did some over the summer at- well, I did some over the summer. I had to hold back due to my... company… but I could definitely help you and Hermione get up to the same level as the Slytherins!”

    “Really? You’re serious? You… you don’t think I’d drag you guys down?” Neville asked with a blush.

    “Of course not! You’re a great wizard, you’ve just got confidence issues and a bad wand.”

    “Hey, this was my dad’s wand!” Neville said defensively.

    “Yeah, which means it isn’t yours. I read up on wandlore trying to figure out how mine works, and just because that wand worked for your dad doesn’t mean it’ll work for you.”

    “Oh… what do you mean how yours works? Do you mean wands in general or is yours special?”

    “It was a gift from Auntie Agnes. The wood is from a tree she’s been bound to by the Web, and the core is one of her hairs. I’ve found it has a propensity for fire and the mind arts. Also, it’s unregistered, so no trace!”

    “And to think that a year or two ago I’d have been shocked at the idea of a student not having the trace on them. Now here I am, chatting with an avatar of fear itself like that’s not completely insane. Merlin.”

    “Don’t forget that one of your teachers is a hundred and fifty year old puppet whose primary reason for not trying to kill the Headmaster is that she finds him much more amusing alive than dead!”

---

    Oh dear, thought Harriet when she left the Halloween feast with the rest of the students to see a petrified cat and an ominous message on the wall. There was a moment of silent shock before pandemonium broke out. Draco Malfoy was crowing insensitively before he yelped- probably Tracey, based on her smug smirk. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were mostly whispering amongst themselves, although a few of them joined with the Gryffindors in shouting at the Slytherins, who shouted right back. Professor Dumbledore took the cat and went off with it and the heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin, leaving Professors Sprout and Flitwick to try and prevent a full on riot from breaking out. Eventually the crowd was silenced by a shout from Hagrid, who proceeded to lift up Professor Flitwick, who said students were to return to their dorms immediately and remain there the remainder of the night, and wait to go to breakfast the next morning until their head of house came to escort them.

    Soon everyone was being escorted to their dorms (the Gryffindors by Hagrid and the Slytherins by Professor Sinistra). The common room was filled with hushed discussions and quiet tears from one of the first years, who was being comforted by one of the sixth year prefects.

    “So, what’s the situation?” asked Neville in their corner.

    “What do you mean?”

    “What happened to Mrs. Norris? How’d she get petrified?”

    “I dunno. Keep in mind that Mister Wright is the omniscient one, and I haven’t had time to write a letter yet. And if you want to do it the honest way and figure it out with logic and research rather than asking the Ceaseless Watcher you’d be much better off asking Hermione. I’d argue that I have more knowledge and understanding than her, but that she’s smarter than me in general. Especially if I didn’t have Eye-based memory boosts and translation.”

    “Right… she’s really pretty brilliant, isn’t she? I guess it’s easy to forget that with all your avatar stuff and your infinite magical power. How exactly does that work, by the way?”

    “Honestly I don’t entirely understand the theory behind it, but my understanding is that there’s this ‘weak spot’ in reality. There are infinite other worlds like ours, but different, and I’m hooked up to the ley lines in the subset of worlds where ley lines exist but haven’t been discovered by sentient creatures- which is still infinite, since a fraction of infinity is still infinite. So where most wixen are limited by how much magic they can draw from their core without damaging it, I’m limited by how much magic can be pushed through the connection I have to these other worlds. And the connection is strengthened by use and by proximity, which is why I’ve been living in the weak spot my entire life. So my power source is infinite, but there is theoretically a limit on how much power I can draw at once.”

    “I understood very little of that but Hermione would probably be fascinated.”

    “Definitely. I’m not telling her about it until Mister Wright’s reply gets here though; I wanna see how much we can sleuth out before he spoils everything!”

---

    Harriet sighed as Breekon and Hope dropped a letter in her lap and stole a slice of bacon each before flying off. She recognized it as a folded piece of Magnus Institute stationary. She had actually hoped it would take Breekon and Hope a little longer to get back so she and the others (they had worked with Millicent, the Patils, and Parvati’s friend Lavender on this) could try and do it the regular way a little longer. 

    Then again, she wasn’t sure where they would go from here. They’d found the standard, common knowledge version of the Chamber of Secrets, and they had determined the monster was probably a basilisk or a gorgon, since those were the only monsters that could petrify someone, had a long enough lifespan to have been here since the founding of Hogwarts (although it would be pushing it for the basilisk), and had some kind of serpentine aspect. Boy did Salazar love his snakes. Nikki would probably have all kinds of jokes about that, Harriet mused as she left the Great Hall and made for a discreet alcove in which to read the letter. It was in another extinct language, as the sensitive letters always were, but one could never be too cautious.

    Dear Harriet

    So, we’ve got good news and we’ve got bad news. The good news is that the diary is definitely at Hogwarts. Which is actually not exactly good news, but at least we know where it is. The last time the Chamber was opened was when Riddle was a student, and the diary was made with the death of the student who died the first time, Myrtle Crick- she’s still here as a ghost in some toilet. Anyway, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the Chamber is opened again when we suspect this Horcrux is on the loose.

    The bad news is that I can’t give you much about the Chamber itself. It’s unplottable, so I can’t See it or how to get in. All I know is that it was created by Salazar Slytherin and the daft fool thought it would be wise to stick a basilisk in there. If Riddle is possessing someone through the diary, then he’d have control over it, since snakes instinctively obey Parselmouths. Unfortunately, it’s a magical language like Gravetongue, so you won’t be able to confuse it with conflicting orders.

    The OTHER bad news is that Dumbledore intends on doing absolutely nothing, since he seems convinced that it will “sort itself out” like it did last time, never mind that last time the Chamber sorted itself out one student died and another was unjustly expelled (although speaking of which, there’s an Acromantula colony in the Forbidden Forest you would be wise to cultivate a friendship with. They’ll recognize you as a fellow webworker.)

    My recommended solution would be to spread the word that it's a basilisk. I’ll borrow Robert’s credit card and order a bunch of mirrored glasses for anyone in the castle who wants a pair, since a basilisk can die to its own reflection. All I’ll need is for you to get me a copy of the-

    Wait. I’m an avatar of the Eye. I can just ask the Eye how many students there are. I don’t know how I still forget I can do that.

    Anyways, glasses will be on the way soon. Spread the word about it being a basilisk. Try and figure out who has the diary and/or how to get into the Chamber.

    Stay safe

        -James Wright

    “Aw, he’s gotten less formal!” Harriet thought as she folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket.

---

    Nikola smiled as she folded herself into her chair. She had a feeling this was going to be an interesting meeting. The Goat hadn’t actually wanted to have a full staff meeting about the Chamber of Secrets, but between Pomona’s harsh glares, Filius’s high pitched growls, Severus’s sighs, and Minerva clenching her fists so hard her nails drew blood, the heads of house had convinced him. That, and he was probably wondering why everyone was wearing mirrored glasses all of a sudden. Even some of the professors had bought their own pairs, Nikola included (Professor McGonagall had also acquired a set of aviators and Nikola suspected she was going to continue wearing them even after the basilisk was dealt with). She didn’t need them; she wasn’t alive enough to die from a basilisk’s gaze and if she was petrified she could turn herself back easily enough. She just thought they looked cool.

    “Right.” said Albus, taking a seat at the head of the table. “I know you all have questions, but I would like to begin with one of my own: why have the students all begun wearing these glasses? Is this some new fashion trend or did the Weasley twins do it?”

    “Don’t be silly Al, the Weasley twins could get the Gryffindors to do something like this, but not the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, much less the Slytherins. They’re wearing them to protect against the basilisk!”

    “The basilisk? Don’t be daft woman, that- well… huh… I suppose… yes, a basilisk actually would make a disturbing amount of sense. It would be quite ancient, but… I see. Well, it sounds like the students are well protected, although I’m not sure how they all got glasses so fast.”

    “An independent benefactor. The same one who ran the background check on Lockfart, in fact! Honestly, you’d think he cared more about the students’ safety than you do!” Nikola said, and she barely restrained herself from a fist pump as Minerva disguised a smile with a cough.

    “I see. This benefactor wouldn’t happen to know who is responsible or how to get into the Chamber, would he?”

    “Unfortunately no. He can’t just do your job for you, Al! Nice try though. Very Slytherin of you!”

    Albus looked like he had swallowed a lemon, and Nikola recognized Severus’s regular sneer turn into the sneer that’s hiding a smirk. It was a subtle difference, but Nikola was an expert on masks both literal and metaphorical.

    “Well I’m glad all the students are protected, but what have you been doing to deal with this, Headmaster?” Filius asked and Nikola allowed herself a grin. It seemed like she had shattered Dumbledore’s stardom powered illusion for at least one other member of the staff. She knew she wouldn’t be teaching next year, but she was pleased to know that her love of antagonizing the Goat would live on in the Charms Professor.

    “Well, I had plans of course, but I honestly think they would be a bit redundant at this point with the students protected. If we don’t know who the Heir of Slytherin is or how to get into the Chamber, there isn’t much we can do. The Chamber sorted itself out last time it was opened, and so it has this time. There weren’t even any casualties! Sorry Argus, any human casualties.” he corrected himself.

    “So you’re not worried that someone within this castle has access to the Chamber?” Severus asked disbelievingly.

    “Not particularly, no. It’s too dangerous to send the basilisk out when everyone has a mirror over their eyes, so they’ll probably lay low.”

    “You don’t- fine. You know what, fine. This is all fine because Wright bailed your ass out for the second time this year.” Minerva huffed. “Obviously you have nothing you intend to share with us, and consider this meeting to be a waste of time now that you’ve got your answers. So if you’ll excuse me, I have essays to grade!”

    Minerva stormed out to applause from Nikola, Filius, and Silvanus Kettleburn, although Silvanus couldn’t really clap that well with one hand being an enchanted metal claw.

    “Well then. I suppose our Deputy Headmistress has decided this meeting is over. Goodnight everyone!”

    Nikola rolled her eyes as the Goat trotted out the door. She would not mind at all if the basilisk got him. 

---

    “Okay, so I’ve gathered everyone here for a quick update and check in.” Harriet said to Hermione, Neville, and Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Orsinov. “The Chamber opening means the diary is almost certainly in the castle and possessing someone. Mister Wright unfortunately can’t give us much on the Chamber or who has the diary. So, let’s all give reports on the people we’ve been watching. Millicent Bulstrode is still a loner, but she was before. It could definitely be her. I’m not that close with Cedric Diggory, but he seems to be acting normal. Maybe a little more stressed than he was last year, but he’s got OWLs coming up and I hear things really start to get intense fifth year. It could be him, but he’s got a lot of friends, so they’d probably have noticed if something was off. What are your thoughts on him, Neville?”

    “Uh, yeah, pretty much what you said. He’s a prefect, too, so I don’t think he’s got time to go opening the Chamber. Just, overall based on what you said, he does not fit the profile of someone being possessed.”

    “Okay, so we can probably rule out Diggory. Hermione, what about Luna Lovegood?”

    “She’s… off. We’re friends, I told off a couple of third years for stealing her shoes at the beginning of the year. They laughed and tried to hex me, but I dodged and got one of them with a slug-vomiting hex that might have been a bit too forceful, I heard she had to stay overnight in the hospital wing.” she glanced nervously at the professors. “I ah, sorry about that…” she said sheepishly.

    “You were provoked, Miss Granger, I hardly think that defending yourself and your friend from bullies warrants punishment.” Professor Snape said.

    “Indeed! Five points to Ravenclaw for being a Consequence!” said Professor Orsinov gleefully.

    “Glad to see duelling training is paying off.” said Harriet. “Remind me later and I’ll show you a hex that fills a boy’s scrotum with flesh eating maggots! (Professor Orsinov giggled at the horrified looks on Neville and Professor Snape’s faces- McGonagall looked sickened as well) Anyways, Lovegood?”

    “Right, sorry. I don’t see her a ton since we’re in different years, but we study together fairly often. It’s quite possible she’s possessed, but she might also just be weird. She readily confesses to having frequent, but brief memory lapses, and she doesn’t have a lot of friends- or any friends, really, other than me- but I think it’s more because she can come across as vaguely unsettling and it weirds people out. Fortunately, Harriet, you’ve helped me develop a taste for vaguely unsettling friends.” Hermione said with a smirk.

    “You’re welcome.” Harriet replied with a smile. “I might try and talk to her sometime, try and figure out what her deal is. She has quite a few Marks, including the Spiral, which is particularly worrying. Maybe invite her to our next duelling practice?” Hermione nodded. “Okay, Professor Snape, anything unusual from Herman Bulstrode?”

    “Alas, no. He’s still a dunderhead who’s too homophobic to realize that he has an extremely obvious crushon Cassius Warrington. I’ll let you know if he suddenly stops worshipping the ground he walks on, but until then he’s much too in love with his best friend to have time to be possessed.”

    “Very well. Professor McGonagall, the Weasleys?”

    “I’m not sure. Percy doesn’t have many friends, he’s always prioritized academics over his social life, but I’d like to think he’d be smart enough to recognize the diary as a cursed object before it got its hooks in him, but I can’t rule him out with complete certainty. The twins, on the other hand, I can. If one was possessed, the other would notice immediately. Ron is… not the brightest, but he’s… well, he’s got a good circle of friends, I don’t think he’s isolated enough to be possessed. Same with Ginny, if we Gryffindors had any sort of formalized hierarchy the way the Slytherins do, Ginny would be queen of the firsties. She’s kind, smart, and sassy. Reminds me quite a bit of your mother, Harriet, especially with her hair.”

    “Alright, so our main suspects are Millicent Bulstrode, Percy Weasley, and Luna Lovegood. Focus on them, but we should still keep an eye on the rest of the Ottery St Catchpole gang. I agree that the only ones we could completely rule out are the Weasley twins. If you find anything new about the Chamber or have an update on any possession suspects, let me or Professor Orsinov know and we’ll organize a meeting or take action depending on the urgency.”

    “That seems wise. If that is all, I have more grading to suffer through.” Professor Snape said. 

    “Just do what I do and don’t assign essays!” said Professor Orsinov with a giggle.

    “Unfortunately, the dunderheads- present company excluded, of course- need to understand the theory of potions if they wish to survive the practical aspect with their extremities attached and their organs toxin-free.”

“This is why I don’t do magic! Too much theory!” huffed Professor Orsinov. “The Goat still hasn’t caught on, by the way. I’m beginning to think he never will.”

---

“Hey Potter, got a moment?”

“Yes, Zabini?” Harriet replied coolly.

“I just thought I’d let you know, you’re one of the options for the Heir of Slytherin in the house betting pool.” he said. “Also, Daphne really misses you.”

“Really? On what grounds do they think I’m the Heir?” Harriet asked, completely ignoring Blaise’s second sentence.

“Well… your dorm mates aren’t as quiet as they think they are when they whisper about your cursed coffin or how you read books that you refuse to let anyone else touch. Combine that with you coming back from the dead, and, well… None of the bets are actually that serious, you’ve got the same odds as Dumbledore, Snape, Malfoy, and the ghost of Slytherin. Most people are betting on the Dark Lord or a Gaunt bastard.”

“They do know the Dark Lord is a Gaunt bastard, right? Anyways, thanks for letting me know. I do appreciate it. But this doesn’t change anything.”

Blaise sighed. “I didn’t think it would. Just… think about it, alright? Daphne’s taken the whole thing rather poorly. I know her health isn’t your responsibility, but… well, I thought I’d tell you anyways. See you around, Potter.”

---

    “Professor Snape! Good to see you again!” Snape restrained himself from wincing as he turned around to see James Wright approaching him.

    “Wright.” the professor said with a nod. “I didn’t think you and Heiress Potter would be attending the ball this year, considering Lucius’s… houseguest.” Snape said before he erected a privacy bubble.

    “On the contrary, his houseguest is why we decided to! We attended to build connections and start rumors last year, this year we’re here for reconnaissance! Harriet’s going to try and meet Tom and maybe snatch the ring. I'm going to get the lay of the land, and take out the snake if I’m lucky.”

    “You know living horcruxes are nearly as resilient as inanimate ones, right?”

    “Yes, which is why if I find the snake alone I’m going to call for Agnes rather than try and deal with it myself. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, but I do know my strengths, and physical violence is not one of them. Especially not in this body. It’s got a few more decades in it, if I eat healthy and all that stuff Robert nags me about, but it’s never going to be particularly athletic.”

    “Of course you’re a body hopper.” Snape sighed. “Very well. I’ll keep an eye on Harriet while you… reconnitor.”

    “Much obliged, Professor. Also, before I go, I thought I’d let you know, when things start up again, it’s entirely up to you if you go back to spying. I know how stressful it can be, and while it would be nice to have a man on the inside for Riddle and Dumbledore, Harriet and I won’t make you.”

    “Bold of you to assume I’d be your man and not Dumbledore’s or the Dark Lord’s.” 

    Wright laughed. “Oh, that’s a good one! Occlumency doesn’t protect your thoughts from the Eye, Severus. I know you’re loyal to Lily, and by extension her daughter. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a mansion to explore.”

---

    Harriet smiled as she made her way through the crowd towards where she could feel the Resurrection Stone. She eventually found it on the hand of the man she assumed was Tom Riddle.

    The Elixir of Life had been kind to him. Rather than looking like a 70 year old Dark Lord, he appeared as a handsome 20-something. He was wearing fine dress robes, and the Resurrection Stone sparkled on his finger in the light of the ballroom. He was chatting with Barty Crouch Senior, and Harriet had to admit it was impressive how well he charmed the man who was widely regarded as the grumpiest person in the Ministry of Magic. But then his eyes- red, irises beneath a glamor of brown, she noted- met hers, and he quickly made his way towards her. She smiled to herself and allowed him to approach. He probably wouldn’t attack her here. And if he did decide to cause a scene… well, she wasn’t helpless.

“Well met. You are Harriet Potter, yes?” he said with a smile.

“That’s Heiress Potter to you.” she said coquettishly, forcing a blush into her cheeks. Best to let him think he was successful. “And who might you be?”

“Of course, forgive me. I am Morfin Gaunt III. I have to admit, I’ve heard interesting things about you, Heiress. Is it true you think Sirius Black innocent?” he said.

“I… I’m not sure. There are a lot of suspicious things about the Black case. It just doesn’t add up. I mean, everyone says he was the Dark Lord’s right hand man, but if that were true why make him a spy? I wouldn’t want to send the person who knows all my deepest secrets into the enemy’s midst. And his incarceration was highly irregular from what I’ve found. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Black knew something Dumbledore didn’t want getting out. But I mean, it’s Dumbledore, what could he possibly have to hide?” Harriet said, biting her lip and hiding a grin. “Gaunt” bought it hook, line, and sinker.

“Ah, I know how hard it can be to realize that authority figures are not worthy of the idols we put them on.” Gaunt said with a sympathetic smile. “I’ve heard that there’s a basilisk loose at Hogwarts and the Headmaster has done nothing about it!”

“Yes, that whole Chamber of Secrets thing. It’s frightening stuff! I’m just glad somebody was able to figure it out and protect everyone. But I agree that the Headmaster should probably be doing something . I mean, surely the Board of Governors could spare the money to hire a team of Curse Breakers to try and find the Chamber or something?”

“Exactly! My friend Lord Malfoy actually told me that the Board suggested that very thing, but Dumbledore said it wasn’t necessary!” 

“Huh. But why would he turn down the help?” Harriet asked.

“Who knows? Maybe he’s dumb enough to think the threat is gone, maybe he’s arrogant enough to think he can deal with everything himself. Maybe he’s even got something at Hogwarts he doesn’t want any Curse Breakers stumbling across!” Gaunt said as he pulled out a chair for Harriet at one of the small table on the edge of the ballroom before sitting down across from her.

“But… But he’s Professor Dumbledore! Champion of the Light! Surely he has everything under control?” Harriet said with an edge of uncertainty in her voice.

“Maybe he does.” Gaunt said lightly. “But magic is a great and terrible thing, Heiress, and things are not always as they seem. All I’ll say is that you should always draw your own conclusions, rather than follow the line of thought someone else has set out for you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I just saw Lord Ogden, and we have business to discuss. But it’s been a pleasure speaking with you, Heiress. Until we meet again.”

---

    Harriet and Mister Wright were about to floo home after the ball when Harriet heard a voice calling her name and turned to see Daphne running towards her.

    “What is it, Greengrass?”

    “Harriet, please, I need your help!” she said. “I-”

    “If you wanted my help, Greengrass, you shouldn’t have betrayed me.” Harriet said coldly as she threw a pinch of floo powder into the fire.

    “Harriet, wait, this is-”

    “105, Hilltop Road!” Harriet said as she stepped into the emerald flames. She caught a glimpse of a tear making its way down Daphne’s face as she was spun about and taken home.

Chapter Text

    “Hey Luna, would you mind staying behind to help me clean up?” Harriet asked at the end of one of their duelling practice sessions. Luna fit into their group well. Her spellcasting was behind the others, but not as much as one would expect for her being a year behind and a latecomer to their practice sessions.

    “You can just say you want to talk to me, Harriet.” Luna said amusedly as Hermione gave Harriet an encouraging smile and led Neville away.

    “That’s fair, I guess.” Harriet said as she put away their training dummies with a flick of her wand. They used one of the old DADA classrooms, which had some useful training equipment and reinforced walls. “So, there’s some things that Neville and Hermione and I haven’t told you.”

    “I assumed so. You’re not human, you know. You’re just a very good actress. Or I really am insane.” Luna said with a shrug.

    “No, you’re right, I’m not human, or at least I’m not entirely human. That’s part of why I want to talk to you, you can see things other people can’t, just like me, but you’ve never had anyone to help you deal with that. Also, I suspect your father had the same ability and allowed it to make him gullible, and some of his delusions may have been taught to you.”

    “Oh.” said Luna, tears welling up in her eyes. “So I am crazy then? Do you not want to be friends with me anymore?”

    “No! No, that’s not what I was getting at, not at all!” Harriet said, putting an arm around Luna’s shoulders. “I want to help you figure things out. Figure out what other people can see, figure out what you can see and others can’t, and figure out what isn’t real at all. Okay?”

    “Okay.” Luna sniffed, and launched herself into a hug. Harriet felt a little awkward- she loved her guardians, but none of them were particularly forthcoming with physical affection. Hermione had given her a couple of hugs early on in first year, but it had been awkward for both of them and they both settled into a much more comfortable pattern of reassuring hands on arms rather than hugs. And the Slytherins were too well-bred, (and shy, in Daphne’s case) to engage in something so pedestrian as hugs. Not that Harriet really wanted to think about them right now.

    Luna, however, was either oblivious to Harriet’s discomfort or simply chose to ignore it. Part of Harriet wanted to peel the younger girl off of her, but she didn’t have the heart. It was Luna, and she’d been terrified she was going to lose her only friends a few minutes ago. She could tolerate the girl clinging to her like a limpet for a few minutes, just this once. As long as it didn’t become a pattern.

---

    It became a pattern.

    Luna staying after duelling practice to chat with Harriet was a pattern Harriet was okay with. More than, in fact. Mister Wright had determined that the source of Luna’s “oddities” (as he put them) was indeed a combination of her father losing his tenuous grip on reality fairly often after the death of his wife, and the fact that Luna had very faint Fey blood in her veins that allowed her to see Fey creatures that others couldn’t. They were able to eventually separate all the creatures Luna knew about that others didn’t into two categories: legitimate Fey, and the rumors and delusions her father had taught her to believe in. It was embarrassing how long it took them to realize that the two categories were effectively “things Luna had seen” and “things Luna had heard about”. It turned out the only Fey Luna had actually seen were Nargles, small creatures that followed and encouraged bullies and the cruel, Wrackspurts, which didn’t seem to do anything but followed around people whose minds were “clouded”, and a trio of figures Luna had seen in the woods around her house one time but was too frightened to talk about.

    But Luna’s frequent physicality was a pattern Harriet… well, she wasn’t not okay with it, but she just… didn’t get it. It was never a long, drawn out hug like their first time, but Luna would frequently give her briefer hugs, or rest her head on Harriet’s shoulder, or take her hand for no apparent reason. So she decided that since she’d helped Luna sort out so much, maybe Luna could help her.

    “Hey Luna. Forgive me if this is a personal question, but why do you, er, touch me so much?” Harriet asked after one of their chats where they hadn’t talked about Luna’s Fey Vision at all, but Luna had simply discussed some transfiguration theory with her. However, Luna had decided to lay her head in Harriet’s lap, and it was a little distracting.

    “Oh, I’m sorry!” Luna said, immediately sitting up and blushing. “I thought you’d have said something sooner if you’d minded.”

    “I- I don’t mind, exactly, I just… don’t get it? Like, you do know I’m a monster, right?” Harriet said. She hadn’t explained the Fears or her being an avatar to Luna, and Luna hadn’t asked, but Harriet was also unsure of what exactly her Fey Vision revealed about her nature to the blonde Ravenclaw.

    “Yeah, but you’re a nice monster. I mean… you’re my friend, right?” Luna said timidly, and Harriet quickly nodded. “So I touch you because it’s reassuring. It… my mother was the one who gave me hugs, before she died. And afterwards, dad… he wasn’t really there for me. So I touch you because it reassures me that you’re real and that you’re there for me. But I’ll stop if you want me to, of course.”

    Harriet blinked a moment before pulling Luna into the first hug she’d ever initiated. It… was actually kinda nice, just to hold her, especially knowing what it meant to Luna. Harriet had been so worried by Luna’s Spiral Mark that she had ignored her Lonely, Desolation, and End Marks. Really, it was unfair how much this girl had been through, Harriet thought as Luna began crying into her shoulder. Harriet was a little confused as to why she was crying, but her instinct told her it was happy tears, so she just held her friend and stroked her back in what she really hoped was a reassuring manner and not a creepy one.

    “Thanks Harriet.” Luna said once she had composed herself, smiling up at Harriet. It wasn’t her normal distant, dreamy smile though, but a brighter one that simply made Harriet happy that Luna was happy. 

---

    “Anything interesting?” Harriet asked as Neville untied his copy of the Daily Prophet from the delivery owl and put his payment in the pouch tied to its other leg.

    “Let’s see…” Neville said as he unrolled the paper. Then he froze and went deathly pale. “No. No, no, no!” he said. Concerned, Harriet took the paper from Neville, and she immediately understood his spiraling panic. “HIGH SECURITY AZKABAN BREAKOUT!” blared the front page headline, and a grid of mugshots was right below it, including the scowling faces of the Lestrange brothers and the maniac grin of Bellatrix Lestrange. Breekon and Hope dropped a letter in her lap, but must have sensed that her attention was elsewhere because they didn’t even try to steal any of her breakfast before flying off as Harriet tucked the letter into her bag.

    “Come on Neville, she said, taking his hand and leading him, still dazed, out of the Great Hall. Hermione caught her eye from the Ravenclaw table, but Harriet gave her a subtle shake of her head and she didn’t try to follow them. She led Neville to an abandoned classroom and sat down on one of the desks as she erected privacy spells. “Talk to me, Neville.”

    “They’re free.” he said numbly. “They’re all free. Those… they’re free. They’re not in Azkaban anymore, Harriet! The Lestranges are out! Do you have any idea what they did?” he asked panickedly.

    “Breathe Neville, breathe. What did they- oh the Eye just- oh Neville. Look at me Neville.” Neville’s breathing slowed and he looked up, his brown eyes meeting Harriet’s green. “I swear to you that they will die, Neville. I killed good people this summer so that I wouldn’t hesitate to kill bad people, and the Lestranges are the worst of the worst. I will keep you safe, Nev, and I will kill them, unless you want to do that yourself. But before they die I will make sure that I make them regret what they did. They will know pain, and they will know fear.”

    Neville was quiet for a moment. “That sounds good. That sounds really good. But torturing them would make us no better than them.” he said with a sigh.

    “I disagree. I think there’s a difference between torturing innocents and torturing torturers. But if you don’t want me to play with them I won’t. I’m here for you, okay Nev? Whatever you need.”

    “Thanks Harriet. I… I know you’re not a very touchy-feely person, but can I have a hug?” he asked timidly, unable to make eye contact. He stumbled backwards in surprise as Harriet jumped off the desk and wrapped her arms around him.

    “I’ve gotten used to it. Kind of have to with Luna.” she whispered as they hugged. “I don’t even mind it anymore.”

    “That’s good. I don’t think it’s possible to be a Hufflepuff who doesn’t like hugs.” Neville said with a wry grin, and Harriet knew he was gonna be okay.

---

    “Filius! I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?” Nikola said, approaching the Charms Professor with one of her less unnerving smiles.

    “Of course! What can I do for you, Nikola?” he asked.

    “Well, I’ve been thinking about how I want to do finals for the students who don’t have one of those dreadful Ministry exams. I was thinking of building a gauntlet to test students’ survival instincts, and make sure they aren’t falling into any of their houses’ less than helpful thought patterns. I’ve got ideas, but there’s a couple of issues. First, I don’t know where to actually build this, and I was hoping you might have an idea. Second, I need some charms work done for a couple of the rooms, and I’m not actually a witch. But don’t tell Al! I want to rub it in his nose that he didn’t notice when he fires me!”

    Filius gawked at Nikola for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Oh that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard! You’ve been running circles around him without magic! When he does fire you, you should consider getting a job at Gringotts, the Nation would adore you! Just tell me what you need me to do!”

---

    Draco Malfoy was feeling good about his practical DADA exam. Apparently all they had to do was get through four chambers, one targeting a weakness of each house. So probably only one of them would actually be a challenge. Then the house elf who was acting as Professor Orsinov’s assistant called his name and he stepped into the first chamber. 

    There was a fucking dragon. Sitting on top of a pile of galleons was a fucking dragon. Probably not an adult, and it looked to be sleeping, but still. A dragon. Then Draco looked around and realized he had plenty of room if he stuck to the wall and didn’t get greedy trying to steal from the dragon. This was probably the Gryffindor chamber, meant to get idiots like Weasley who thought they could get away with stealing from a dragon. 

    Ultimately, the first chamber was shockingly easy for having a dragon in it. All he had to do was maintain as much distance between himself and the dragon as he could and not make any loud noises, and he was through the first chamber without the dragon stirring. There was a short hallway, and then he was in the second chamber, and- “Oh fuck”. Draco whispered.

    Where the first chamber was a circle with the entrance and exit directly across from one another, the second chamber seemed to be a square or a rectangle. Draco had entered in one corner, and the exit was a short walk away if he hugged one of the walls again. The middle of the room, however, was filled with massive silver spider webs. And there were two other things in the middle of the room. One was the gigantic carapace of an Acromantula. And one was Theodore Nott, cocooned in silk and suspended from the low ceiling of the chamber. Draco’s first thought was to help. He wasn’t exactly friends with Nott, but he was much better conversation than Crabbe and Goyle. But then he realized three things.

    One was that this was likely not Nott, and perhaps not even a real Acromantula. Professor Orsinov was completely nutty, but it didn’t seem likely that Dumbledore would let her bring in dragons and Acromantulas for second years, and certainly not with safety measures to prevent situations like this. It was probably all a very complicated illusion. Second was that if it was a real Acromantula, he wouldn’t be able to do anything except get himself killed. It was tough for adult wizards to handle an Acromantula, much less a second year. Third was that as much as he enjoyed having someone to compare essays with or play a challenging game of chess, Draco would not risk his life for Nott, and he doubted Nott would do the same for him. No, this was all some mind game, and if it wasn’t, well, there wasn’t anything he could do. This was probably the Hufflepuff chamber. They could be as stupidly reckless as Gryffindors when their friends were threatened.

    Draco continued on through another corridor into the third chamber. He almost laughed. It was a giant library, obviously the Ravenclaw chamber. All he had to do was not take any of the scrolls or books and he’d probably be fine. Well, he had to sneak past a minotaur patrolling the halls, dragging a nasty looking axe behind it, but it was only marginally more difficult than not tickling the sleeping dragon.

    He wondered what the Slytherin chamber would be. His house didn’t have any weaknesses so readily exploitable- no reckless arrogance, no blind loyalty, no scatterbrained curiosity. He pushed open the door and froze. He recognized the man in the chamber, had probably been held by him as a baby. Antonin Dolohov.

    Draco’s mind was racing. Was this another illusion, like Nott? It wasn’t impossible for him to be here, he had been one of the Azkaban escapees, but why would he be here? And how could he have gotten here? Everyone knew Hogwarts was one of the most heavily warded places in Britain, Dolohov couldn’t have just waltzed in here. Probably an illusion then, Draco decided, and he decided to use his tried and true wall huggin strategy.

    “Draco! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! C’mon kid, let’s get you out of here. Things are about to get ugly here reeeeal quick, and your daddy doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.”

    Draco hesitated. That was plausible, but- no, this was just another trick. Although he wasn’t sure whether to be angry or impressed that Professor Orsinov had stooped this low. “You’re just an illusion!” Draco called out as he continued to edge his way towards the final door.

    Maybe-Dolohov sighed and began walking towards him. “I don’t have time for your games, boy. You’re coming with me, and counting yourself lucky that your daddy wants you in one piece.”

    Draco quickly weighed his options. He was still fairly certain this wasn’t the real Dolohov, which meant he could be caught with no real consequences. But if he was real and Draco did fight back, he could be in for a Cruciatus, from his father or Dolohov himself. Then again, it was an exam, and Dolohov didn’t have a wand out…

    “Flipendo!” Draco shouted and Maybe-Dolohov grunted as he staggered back from the knockback jinx, and Draco used the opportunity to make a dash for the final doorway. He’d see if Dolohov followed him, and if he did he’d surrender. But not surprisingly, Dolohov stood up, shimmered, and Professor Orsinov appeared in his place.

    “Excellently done, Draco! You receive full marks!”

    “Of course.” he said imperiously before adding “It was all illusions, right?”

    “Of course! The Goa- er, the Headmaster wouldn’t actually let me bring in a dragon. I was the dragon, the Acromantula, and the minotaur. And whoever you saw in the Acromantula lair was a complete illusion, as were the webs.”

    “Okay.” said Draco, hiding how relieved he was. “Although, professor, I am curious… the lessons from the first three chambers were fairly straightforward, but what was the lesson from the Slytherin chamber?”

    “Ah, well, that one I had to adjust for you a bit. The lesson from the Slytherin chamber is that there are some situations that call for immediate, decisive action. Most students encounter your Aunt Bellatrix, with various types of armament depending on the year level. She would demand they surrender themselves as a hostage, but since you’re her family, that wouldn’t be particularly believable. Thus, Dolohov.”

    “I see…” Draco said. “Well, thank you Professor. I’ll let you continue your exams then.

---

    Harriet was feeling good aas she walked out of her DADA final. The first sections were ridiculously easy with Harriet’s ability to see through Professor Orsinov’s illusions, but Nikki had been kind enough to give her a challenge on the last one. She explained what everyone else had gone through afterwards so that she’d know what to say if asked, but for Harriet the last chamber had been a fight with Nikki. Neither was aiming to kill, but they weren’t exactly holding back either. Harriet had been distinctly aware of the cracks in her ribs when Nikki caught her in the side with a mallet that would have been ludicrously comical if it hadn’t bloody hurt . But still, all she had was her Astronomy practical tonight, and then she had a few days to laze around with her friends before heading home for a summer of practice and training.

    Then she heard Professor Dumbledore’s voice boom through the halls. “All students are to assemble in their common rooms for a head count immediately to be carried out by heads of house, regardless of any exams that may be in progress. This is neither a joke nor a drill.”

    Then Harriet gasped as the Eye pressed two images into mind. The first was of the wall where Mrs Norris had been found, with a second message scrawled below the first. The second was of a semi-translucent figure standing over a blonde-haired girl clutching a diary in a room Harriet didn’t recognize.

    Harriet loudly swore. Daphne had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets.

Chapter Text

    Nikola was humming happily to herself as she repaired one of her masks. When she had appeared to Neville as Dolohov (it would be cruel to appear as Bellatrix for him) at the end of his final he had immediately whipped out his wand and hit her in the face with a perfect blasting curse. If she was made of normal human bits, her head would have been painted across the walls of the chamber. As it was, she just laughed and gave him an Outstanding. 

    Then the Goat’s voice echoed through the hall and her mood was ruined. Bugger, she thought, hadn’t they told him he couldn’t just rest on his (James’s) laurels with the glasses? Because it had to be the Chamber and the diary. They still didn’t know who’d done it; she would have bet on Millicent Bulstrode if the others hadn’t felt it was rude and insensitive to bet on something like this. She set the cracked mask down on her desk and kicked the open. It was dramatic, but she was angry. Someone had probably died, and now the Goat was probably going to turn to the staff for help.

    She was angrily striding towards the staff room, not caring that her legs were unnaturally long and her face had gone from the slightly uncanny one she used for Professor Orsinov to the porcelain doll’s head she had when she mailed herself to Albus.

    “Nikki!” She turned and saw Harriet running towards her, looking more scared than Nikola had seen her since she had turned the girl into part of an exhibit at the wax museum for a day. “Daphne’s in the Chamber! The Eye showed me!”

    Nikola sighed. “I thought you were mad at the backstabbing twat! And unless the Eye showed you how to get in, there’s nothing you can-” Nikola stopped as a yellow door that hadn’t been next to them a moment ago opened with a creak. “Of fucking course! Fine!” Nikola’s arm shot out, extending towards her office, and returned a moment later with the cracked mask she had been working on. “Take this with you. It’s part of me, I’ll be able to find my way to it, enchantments be damned. I can’t go through the Distortion with you, so this’ll have to work. Don’t die, but if you do I call dibs on your skin. I’m going to give the Goat some hell until the Corridors spit you out.”

    “Thanks Nikki.” Harriet said, and Nikola was shocked as the girl gave her a brief hug before running full tilt into the Distortion. The door creaked shut behind her before silently disappearing.

    Right, thought Nikola, time to get fucking fired.

---

    In the months of working with her, it was generally easy for Minerva to forget Nikola wasn’t human, or at least push that little detail to the back of her mind. Whenever she was in public around the school, she appeared totally human. A little unsettling, but human.

    When Nikola Orsinov stormed into the staff meeting in the wake of Dumbledore’s announcement, she completely shattered any illusions of humanity. She looked like one of those mannequins that artists would pose as references, but a good nine feet tall, having to bend to enter the door. Her torso was a solid slab of polished pine, and the limbs were each three simple pieces of wood with wire joints. The head was shaped like a fat pill adorned with a crude frowny face in red paint. She wore nothing but her long dovetail coat and a top hat, and had the cane that she usually used to gesticulate with, except now she was holding it by the bottom as if she was about to club someone with the onyx orb on top of the cane. Interestingly, Nikola’s hands were fist sized wooden balls, yet she was still able to hold the cane. When Minerva tried to figure out how that worked she felt a buzzing in her teeth that quickly dissuaded her from that line of inquiry.

    “Hello Colleagues!” she said as the room went silent at her entrance. Her voice sounded like it was both echoing and being heard through a badly tuned Wizarding Wireless, yet the frowny face did not move, and Minerva suspected that Nikola wasn’t actually making any noise. “So, Are We Wondering Why We’re Here?” she said. “I’ll Tell You! It’s Because This Simpleton-” she violently brandished her cane at Dumbledore, causing a number of staff members to flinch. “-Did Not Think It Was Necessary To Do Any Investigation After The Chamber Was Opened!”

    Minerva was glaring at Dumbledore. She had been the one a sobbing third year came to when they noticed the new message, and she had passed it along to the Headmaster. She felt vindicated to see that others, especially Filius and Severus, seemed equally displeased. 

    “Now Miss Greengrass Is In The Chamber And Miss Potter Has Taken It Upon Herself To Save Her! All Because This Twit Wouldn’t Let In The Damn Curse Breakers!”

    “Hey!” shouted Hagrid. “You can’t jus’ talk about Dumbledore like tha’! He-” Minerva gasped as Nikola waved a hand and Hagrid froze mid-sentence. Pomona, who was sitting next to him, gasped.

    “You turned him into wax? What the hell are you?”

    “I’m A Damn Sight Stronger Than You, So Sit Down, Girlie! I’ll Fix Him Later, He’d Just Get In The Way!” Nikola roared, and Minerva was confused for a moment as she felt something hot and sticky on her upper lip before she realized that Nikola’s mental shouting had given her a nosebleed. Suddenly Nikola froze. “Right. I Know How To Get To The Chamber Now. Stay Out Of My Way If You Know What’s Good For You.”

    The cane transformed into a scalpel that Nikola dropped into one of her coat pockets before ducking out the door and sprinting off. 

    “Poppy, see to Hagrid. Everyone else, after her.” Albus said, and it was with the confident authority of a general rather than the kindly request of an elderly headmaster. 

---

    Daphne groaned and sat up, her head pounding. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d be able to wake up again, although you probably only have a few minutes before you go under for good. Then again, you did figure out you were being possessed twice before. The power for those obliviations were definitely a setback.” said a bored sounding voice. Daphne turned, wincing at how that hurt her head, and saw a teenage boy sitting in a wooden armchair that looked distinctly out of place in the underground grotto they seemed to be in. Then suddenly Daphne recognized the face of the large statue and gasped, the pieces clicking together in her mind.

    “Tom? Why are we in the Chamber of Secrets?” she asked, sounding very afraid.

    “Because I am the Heir of Slytherin.” he replied smugly. “And soon I’ll have a body. Thank you so much for your help with that, by the way.” Daphne noticed that Tom was slightly see-through. “Soon you’ll take my place in that damned diary and I’ll take yours in the world. I’m glad to see I’m getting my own body, though. I think neither of us would have been very comfortable if I’d ended up in yours. My other-” Tom stopped at the loud sound of a door creaking open. Daphne was happy to see Tom looked as surprised as she was at the yellow door that had appeared in the middle of the chamber. Then Harriet stepped through and Daphne wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that she cared enough to come or distressed that Harriet was going to die down here with her.

    “Well, isn’t this a surprise.” Tom said, twirling Daphne’s wand as Harriet walked towards them. “Harriet Potter. I’ve heard a lot about you. I have to thank you, actually, if you hadn’t been so cruel to poor little Daphne she never would have been in the right mindset for me to take control of- are you sniffing me?”

    Daphne felt a little reassured as Harriet broke into one of her dangerous grins. “Oh yes, Tom. I’ve got the scent of horcrux now. You’re fucked . You and your main soul.”

    Tom went wide-eyed. “Dumbledore might underestimate you, but I won’t.” Tom made some hissing noises- probably Parseltongue, if he was the Heir of Slytherin- and the mouth of the statue opened. Harriet ran over and put her glasses on Daphne. “Nice try Potter, but now you’re vulnerable to-”

    “Shut up. Ignis Diabolum!” interrupted Harriet, and Daphne flinched at the incantation for Fiendfyre. Tom and Daphne were both shocked as a tarantula made of fire leapt from Harriet’s wand and landed on the diary. Tom screamed as a spider-shaped hole was burnt through the book, before he silently disappeared from existence. “One down, five to go.” muttered Harriet to Daphne’s confusion. Then Daphne froze as she heard hissing from inside the statue’s open mouth. “Right, basilisk. Close your eyes Daphne, no need to get petrified.”

    “But Harriet, you-”

    “I’ll be fine Daphne. I’ll explain later. But it’s about to come out. I’m not very far into the Seven Lamps, but I’m far enough for this.” Daphne was scared and confused (what the hell did seven lamps have to do with anything?) but she knew trusting Harriet was her best bet, for survival and for rebuilding her lost trust, so she screwed her eyes shut as she heard another, louder hiss. Then there was a sound of stone grinding on stone, and some sort of cross between a hiss and a cough, and after about a minute Harriet said she could open her eyes. Daphne did so and saw the head of a dead basilisk hanging limply out of the mouth of the statue. Then a pair of gigantic stone doors opposite the statue opened and a mannequin wielding a giant mallet walked through, and Daphne decided now was a good time to pass out.

---

    Albus Dumbledore was panting as he lead the crowd of teachers after Orsinov. He was not as young as he used to be, and Orsinov had long legs in her current form. He mentally swore as he realized where Orsinov was going. The bathroom where Myrtle died. Of course. He heard the door slam as Orsinov entered, and he grabbed the doorknob, only to find it locked. And the bathroom symbol on the door had been replaced by the comedy and tragedy masks. “Really Orsinov? Alohomora!” 

    The lock clicked and Albus stepped into the bathroom. Only he didn’t find himself in Myrtle’s bathroom, but in a one-person muggle restroom. Fuck. He tried to apparate to the Three Broomsticks, only to find he couldn’t. Double fuck.

---

    Harriet found herself sitting in the Headmaster’s office with Professor Dumbledore, Mister Wright, Nikki (she was back to Nikki now; she’d resigned after a number of students had seen her in her mannequin form), and Lady Greengrass. Daphne was currently under observation at St Mungo’s, Tom had placed her magical core under significant strain when he tried to drain her. She would be unconscious for a few more days, but was expected to make a full recovery.

    “Thank you all for joining me here. I think there are a few questions that we all have a vested interest in answering. So first of all, Harriet, how, exactly, did you end up in the Chamber with Daphne, and what happened when you were down there?”

    Harriet happily began reciting the cover story she had created with Mister Wright’s help. “Well, I was headed up to Ravenclaw Tower to review for the Astronomy practical with Hermione when I came across the second message. I was scared, of course, but then it occurred to me that it was right outside Myrtle’s bathroom, and I knew Myrtle had died when the chamber opened in the 40’s, so it occurred to me that she might know something. I went and talked to her and she told me she had died looking at a pair of big yellow eyes by one of the sinks. I checked out the sink she pointed to and saw there was a little snake carved into it. I had a hunch, so I made a bunch of hissing noises at it and it turned into a tunnel. In retrospect I think the enchantments on it must have been wearing off for it to recognize non-magical Parseltongue. Anyways, I thought about finding a professor, but it seemed like it might be time sensitive if someone had been dragged down there, and I had my glasses, so I went down the tunnel.” Mister Wright opened his mouth, as had been agreed upon, and Harriet cut him off with “Yes, I know that was stupid and reckless of me and I’m probably grounded until I’m fifty.”

    “You really should have gotten me, Harri. I mean, I’m here to protect you from the Goat, but I could have helped you with this too.” said Nikki, which she was pleased to see made Lady Greengrass smirk. Best to get on her good side now, it would make the pill she’d have to swallow later go down a little easier.

    “I know, I know. Anyway, I went and used bullsh- er, fake Parseltongue again to open the doors to the main chamber. I went in and Daphne was unconscious on the floor and there was this boy standing over her, only he was kind of see-through. He said his name was Tom Riddle and he was the Heir of Slytherin, and he had possessed Daphne and used her to open the Chamber. He tried to set the basilisk on me, but it saw its own reflection in my glasses as it was coming out of the mouth of the statue down there, and died. Tom started trying to attack me with Daphne’s wand, and I tried to fight back, but all my spells went through him. I noticed there was a diary by Daphne with Tom’s name on the front, and I thought maybe that was how he was possessing her, so I started attacking the diary instead. But nothing I did worked, not even Incendio. But then I remembered reading about basilisk venom when we were researching it after learning what it was, so I took the diary and skewered it on one of the basilisk’s fangs, and that destroyed Tom. So then I took Daphne and her wand and carried- well, levitated- her back up the tunnel, and I met Nikki halfway when she was coming down. She brought us back through the door she enchanted, and you all know the rest.”

    “I see. Well first of all Miss Potter, I must commend you for your bravery, even as I must gently remonstrate with you for ignoring an emergency order from a member of the staff. Second, do you have the diary?”

    “No sir. It slid off the fang and landed in the puddle of venom dripping from the fang. It’s probably a pile of sludge by now.”

    “Unfortunate. Thirdly, Miss Orsinov, what exactly did you do to the door to Myrtle’s bathroom that makes it lead to the Great Yarmouth Wax Museum? And why couldn’t I do magic in there?”

    “Ah, yes, the door. I’m afraid you can’t have it back, I created it to be permanent in case the contents of the Chamber proved too much for me.”

    “So you thought to deposit anything that went through it in a muggle city?” the Headmaster asked suspiciously.

    “It leads to the Wax Museum if you enter from the hall side. If you enter from the bathroom side… it takes you somewhere much less pleasant. Unless you have an escort, of course. As for why you can’t do magic inside the museum… let’s just say it’s a rather Strange place.”

    The Headmaster and Lady Greengrass seemed confused as to why that comment caused Harriet and Nikki to burst into giggles (and Mister Wright to roll his eyes) but they seemed to decide not to waste time trying to get answers there.

    “If that’s all, Headmaster, I was wondering if there was a private place that Harriet and I could speak with Lady Greengrass, if she was amenable to the idea?”

    “The staff room should be empty right now, or the Great Hall.” 

    “Excellent. Lady Greengrass, if you don’t mind?”

---

    Ophelia Greengrass would have been sweating bullets if anti-perspirant charms weren’t a thing. She knew Wright and Potter were undefined variables in the political and strategic arithmancy, and she was about to take a major gamble. But from what she had seen, it would pay off.

    “Thank you for meeting with us, Lady Greengrass.” Wright said, while Harriet cast some very strong privacy charms. “I believe there’s something you wanted to talk to us about?”

    He knew, damnit. Of course he fucking knew. Well, best to get it out then. “I feel my daughter owes Harriet a life debt for saving her from the Chamber and the diary. I propose that the House of Greengrass fulfils this debt by making Daphne Greengrass a vassal of the House  of Potter. I’ve had Gringotts draw up a contract, including a summary, so I thought I’d give you a copy for you to look over. Let me know if you have any changes you’d like to make, and-”

    “I’ve already looked over the contract and we find it perfectly acceptable.” Wright interrupted. Lady Greengrass was annoyed, even as she respected the Slytherin-ness of him reinforcing his power, both by reviewing the proposal before he had been told about it, and of him cutting her off. Harriet signed the contract, and Lady Greengrass did too.

    “Right.” said Harriet. “I would ask that you keep this low profile. The Headmaster will find out eventually, and he won’t like it, so please say that you guilted me into this. If anyone asks, I will say I did this because I felt that refusing would be to impugn Daphne’s honor and insult the House of Greengrass.”

    “I think I’ve made the right choice in entrusting my heiress to your House, Potter. Very cunning indeed. Are you sure you’re not meant to be in Slytherin?”

    “Quite possibly. Thank you very much, Lady Greengrass. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other quite a bit this summer.”

---

    “Okay, so what actually happened?” Hermione said once she, Harriet, Neville, and Professors Snape and McGonagall were in the bottom of the South Tower and the privacy spells were put into place.

    “It was honestly kind of anticlimactic. After the Goat’s announcement the Eye told me what had happened and that Daphne was the one who was taken. I went to Nikki, she gave me a mask that’s part of her so she’d be able to find her way to me. The Distortion took me into the Chamber. I made sure to get the scent of the horcrux, then diary-Riddle called for the basilisk. I used fiendfyre on the horcrux and used Buried powers to make the statue the snake was coming out of choke it to death. Also, Lady Greengrass said Daphne owed me a life debt, so Daphne is my vassal now, which she only did to ingratiate herself and her house to me and enable me to trust Daphne, since as my vassal she can keep my secrets even from her own head of family. Neat bit of maneuvering, that. I’m gonna tell the Slytherins and Luna about the Fears over the summer. Shouldn’t be too hard to introduce Luna to them, I’m pretty sure she’s got Greengrass blood on her mother’s side.”

    “It would certainly explain her hair. I’m so jealous of her and Daphne’s hair.” Hermione grumbled.

    “Yes, Luna is Daphne’s second cousin, although I believe the Greengrasses cut off contact with Pandora after she married Xeno.” said Snape, though that last name was said venomously.

    “What’s wrong with Luna’s dad?” asked Hermione.

    “He’s a bad researcher and a worse father. He’ll believe anything he’s told without a scrap of evidence. I have no idea why Pandora married him. It was rather sudden, too. Unplanned pregnancies were the least scandalous rumors. Others say-” McGonagall cut herself off. “I shouldn’t gossip about a students family. But let’s just say dislike of Xenophilius Lovegood is one of the few topics that unites all three political factions in wizarding Britain, and for good reason.”

    Hermione noted that Harriet was silent and looked unusually pensive, which either meant she was planning something impossible or someone was about to get hurt. But Harriet said nothing, and simply suggested they head over to the end of the year feast.

---

    Harriet was gently shaken awake that night by Nikki. “Nikki? Is everything okay?” she asked tiredly.

    “Yes, just come with me!” Nikki whispered excitedly. Harriet sighed but hoped Nikki wouldn’t wake her up for no reason, so she put on some slippers and followed the former professor out of the Hufflepuff dorms.

    “Are we going back to the Chamber? What’s this all about?” Harriet asked as Nikki took her hand and led her through the Strange door into Myrtle’s bathroom.

    “It’s a Unique Learning Opportunity! Now help me get the damn tunnel open!” Harriet laughed and the two of them took turns hissing at the sink until the tunnel appeared.

    “So what exactly am I going to learn down here?” Harriet asked as they went down the tunnel.

    “How to absorb skins! There’s two fine specimens of basilisk skins down here! You can take the shed one after I show you how it works with the fresh one! It’s easier the older the skin is.”

    “Okay then. But what does absorbing a skin do?” Harriet asked.

    “It gives your skin the properties of that skin! In this case, extreme resistance to magic and cutting. Don’t know how it would fare against bullets, though, and it’s probably best not to test that. Don’t worry, you can suppress it if you need to, you know, not seem like a hex-proof avatar of Fear. Although between this, being immune to the killing curse, and your Desolation-brand fireproofing, you’re gonna be very difficult to meaningfully injure!” Nikki said as they arrived at the hallway with the shed skin. “Now help me with this blasted door!” They ended up hissing at it for a good twenty minutes before Harriet got impatient and pumped enough power into her cutting hexes for her to carve a crude doorway in the thick stone doors leading to the Chamber proper. Harriet watched was Nikki placed her hands on the dead basilisk and felt the power of the Stranger at work as the skin was sucked into Nikki’s fingertips. “Are you certain you can replicate that? It will be easier with the older skin, but there’s only the one and it would be a shame to waste it.”

“Yeah, I should be able to.” said Harriet. In the end it took her a lot longer (thirty minutes instead of thirty seconds) but she did absorb the skin. 

“Great, let’s test it out!” said Nikki, transforming her cane into fireman’s axe. 

“Wait, maybe we should-” Harriet cut herself off with a yelp as Nikki swung the axe into her ribs only for the blade to glance off in a shower of sparks. “First of all, that still fucking hurts!” Harriet shouted with a wince. She screwed up her face in concentration for a moment before continuing. “Second of all, just because you didn’t break skin doesn’t mean that was okay! I just had to fix one of my ribs, and I’m probably gonna have a massive bruise! Third, you’ve ruined my pajamas! Wait, actually, Reparo. Okay so the pajamas aren’t a big deal, but you can’t just go hitting people with axes! What if it hadn’t worked?”

“Oh, right. Well, it did! No harm, no foul! I promise I won’t hit you with an axe again unless I have your explicit permission to do so!”

“I hate that I can actually conceive of situations where I might actually want you to hit me with an axe. Now can I go back to bed?” Harriet grumbled.

---

    Daphne wearily blinked open her eyes. She was feeling like she’d been run over by a hippogriff. She yawned and stretched as she took in her surroundings. It looked like a private room a St Mungos, like Grandma Greengrass had been in before she died. A small window, some flowers on a bedside table, Harriet, a shelf full of-

    “Harriet!” gasped Daphne. “I’m so, so sorry, I should have-” Daphne was interrupted by Harriet pulling her into a hug, which Daphne was not expecting for so many reasons.

    “No, I’m sorry, I’m the one who was a total jerk to you! Just because I couldn’t trust you with everything doesn’t mean I had to drop you completely or hold a grudge for so long! And you were trying to ask for help with the diary at the Yule Ball, weren’t you? Merlin, I’m such an asshole!”

    “I’m sorry that I spied on you for my mother and never properly apologized for it! I should have approached you back in September, but I was too scared. I know you probably hate me but-”

“I don’t hate you, idiot.” Harriet said with a smile, although Daphne couldn’t see that as they were still hugging. “I really missed you and Tracey and Blaise this year! I wouldn’t have fought a basilisk for just anyone!” It was Harriet’s turn to miss a visual cue as Daphne’s face turned red. “How about we agree that we both made mistakes and that we’ll move on and be better friends for it?” Harriet said, finally breaking the hug.

“Yes! Merlin, yes! I can’t believe… just… thank you.” Daphne said, and Harriet was treated to one of her genuine, entirely unfiltered smiles.

“Can I hug you again?” Harriet asked, much to Daphne’s surprise.

“Absolutely!” Daphne said, beaming as they met in the middle this time, instead of Harriet pinning her to the bed. “Who got you to start hugging? I need to send them flowers!” Daphne said with a laugh.

“Luna Lovegood, actually! She’s a year below us, your second cousin, actually.”

“Really? Her?” said Daphne, and she felt Harriet tense.

“Yes, and if you don’t like it-”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just surprised, her dad is-”

“Not Luna.” Harriet interrupted smoothly. “Luna is wonderful and has certain unique talents. I actually think you’d really like her. And like you said, she got me used to all this touchy-feely stuff. Unless you don’t like hugs…” Harriet trailed off with a smirk.

“No! I like them! I really like them!” Daphne said before blushing crimson. She paused. “Is it- how is not weird for you to be friends with me and hug me knowing that I… you know…”

“Have a crush on me?” Harriet said, causing Daphne to nod and blush some more. “Well, I know you’re my friend, and I trust you not to let any more than friendly feelings get in the way of that friendship from your end, so I do the same from my end, even if they’re not my feelings. Besides, we’re twelve, it’s not like you’re gonna try and grope me. Not that I think you would when we’re older.”

“So you don’t like me back then? Not in that way? I kinda figured, but…” Daphne trailed off, embarrassed.

“Hey. Look at me.” Harriet said, taking her hand. Daphne shyly looked her in the eyes despite her blush. “I don’t like you that way right now, but I don’t like anybody that way right now. I might never like anyone that way- I certainly wouldn’t be the first aromantic avatar- but it’s very possible that I will like someone that way one day, and looking at it objectively, I could probably see myself falling for you. So I won’t say don’t give up hope, because that would be greedy and cruel when I can’t guarantee that I will like-like you, but I also won’t tell you to move on, because I am a bit of a greedy bitch, and I won’t discourage you when I might eventually like-like you. It’s your choice, to whatever extent you can choose how you feel about someone, and you don’t have to try and decide now, okay?” Daphne nodded. “Now, onto business. I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is, your mom said you owed me a life debt, so you’re a vassal of House Potter now. The good news is that I don’t intend to make you do anything as my vassal other than keep my secrets, which is what your mom was going for, anyway. And because you now have a socially acceptable reason to keep secrets from your mother, I can now let you and the others in on the Big Picture.”

“Really? You’re just gonna let me in like that?” Daphne said.

“I mean, yeah. I don’t like keeping secrets from my friends. Like I said, I missed you, and now that you don’t have to tell your mom anything, I can tell you everything I wanted to when you asked. I’ll try and arrange a meeting for us, Tracey, Blaise, and Luna as soon as possible. Maybe I can convince Mister Wright to let me use a conference room at the Institute.”

“Thanks Harriet.” Daphne said and Harriet couldn’t resist hugging her again.

Chapter Text

    The fireplace in Mister Wright’s office flared green and Blaise stepped out, followed shortly by Tracey, and then Daphne. “Great, you’re the last ones. Follow me please.” Harriet said cheerfully. Mister Wright actually had agreed to let her use an Institute conference room to brief Luna and the Slytherins, on the condition that he was there too.

    “What’s that?” asked Blaise, pointing out a window.

    “A car. Come on, even purebloods know what cars are, right? You’ve got the Knight Bus!” said Harriet. “In here.” she added, leading them into a nice, professional looking room with a long table and a large TV for presentations at one end.

    “What’s that?” asked Daphne, pointing at the TV.

    “A TV, obviously.” said Mister Wright at the same time Harriet said “Muggle questions later, we’ve got bigger things to discuss right now. That said, I’m definitely making you guys come do some muggle stuff with me this summer. Now, please save all questions until the end. I’ve got a lot to get through. But I did get you guys stationary, so jot down any questions you-” she paused as she saw Luna looking curiously at the pen in front of her. “I swear to Merlin, if you people don’t even know what pens are- nevermind, of course you don’t.” she pulled out her wand and transfigured the purebloods’ pens into quills. “Tracey, you and I have a lot of work to do. Anyway, let’s get started.”

    Harriet proceeded to launch into an explanation of Fears, avatars, and how she fit into that picture. Amusingly, the Slytherins and Luna were much better about holding in their questions than their professors were, although part of that may have been due to the notepads.

    “You said earlier you could tell some of us and not others, what’s the qualification for that?” asked Blaise once Harriet opened things up for questions.

    “Remember how I said the first step to accidentally becoming an avatar is to be Marked? You’ve all been Marked, which means you’re part of our world now.”

    “What? How were we Marked? Wouldn’t we know?” asked Tracey.

    “Not necessarily. Like I said, Marks can come from one traumatizing event, like for you, you were Marked by the End in those desperate couple of hours where you thought Tracey was dead. They can come from a slow realization- Blaise’s Web Marking came from the realization that his mother is a murderer and a psychopath and he doesn’t want to be like her. Or they can come from long term circumstances or treatment- Luna’s Spiral Mark came from her ability to see things other people can’t and not having anybody to help her deal with that.”

    “Until recently.” Luna added with a smile.

    “What’s my Mark then?” Daphne asked. “I feel like we should all be open with each other here.”

    “You’ve got three, actually. The strongest is the Web, of course, from your experience with Riddle’s diary. But also the Eye, from when you were afraid your mother wouldn’t accept you liking girls, and the Desolation.” Harriet said.

    “How’d I get the Desolation one?” Daphne asked.

    “It’s personal.” Harriet warned before Daphne waved her on. “You were hurt terribly by the pain of losing me but still seeing me around Hogwarts. Then I came to you in the Chamber and you were afraid that the basilisk was going to rip me away again as soon as I’d come back for you.”

    Daphne blushed fiercely but offered no objection. “Okay, since I’m pretty sure Daphne will be too wimpy to ask, how do relationships work for avatars?” Blaise asked, earning him a smack on the arm from Daphne.

    “I… that’s actually a good question I’ve never thought to ask. Mister Wright?”

    “It’s… complicated. It involves a lot of Higher Powers. Fate, Souls, that sort of thing. Basically, avatars have to be very, very careful with their soul. It’s why Terminus hates horcruxes so much. Basically, avatars have to have no less than one entire soul inside them. We can’t, for example, make horcruxes, because that puts a portion of the soul outside the body. We can still murder, though, as long as we keep all the soul pieces inside ourself. Two five pound weights weigh the same as one ten pound weight. But if murder tears the soul, rape shreds it, evaporates it, mutilates it. So avatars can have sexual relationships, but the avatar must be very careful that they have explicit consent for anything sexual they do, otherwise… well I’m not exactly sure what happens. We may just be incapable of doing anything that puts us below one soul to a body. Souls are one of those things even the Eye itself has trouble with. But basically, avatars have to be extra careful about consent, but everyone should be extra careful about consent, so it should be fine. The bigger issue is that not many people want a relationship with someone knowing they are an avatar, or else they’re perverts who fetishize us. I recommend killing them, otherwise you’re just feeding the Flesh with your own uncomfortableness.”

    “What do you mean by Higher Powers?” asked Tracey.

    “Well, there’s basically three levels of power, as far as the Eye can tell. There’s what I call the Lower Powers, which is basically muggle science. It still has incredible potential, but it’s generally superseded by anything else. For example, you can actively use magic to counteract gravity, but you can’t actively use gravity to counteract magic. The Middle Powers are Magic, Fear, and the Fey, and possibly others that hide from the Eye. They’re powers that can be used by certain beings to overcome the Lower Powers, but not the Higher Powers. The Higher Powers are, like the Lower Powers, fundamental laws of reality, but unlike the Lower Powers, they cannot be overcome by the Middle Powers. Manipulated and bent, yes, but not completely broken. The only Higher Powers whose existence I am certain of are Fate, Souls, and Free Will.”

    “If Free Will exists as a Higher Power then how does the Imperious Curse work?” asked Blaise.

    “There’s always a choice, even under the Imperious Curse. You can fight it, it’s just very hard to do so. Moreover, the caster chose to use it. That’s like asking how free will exists when someone stronger than you can push you down the stairs.” Harriet said.

    “Yes, oddly enough I suspect the best chance for outright breaking the Higher Powers would be through the Lower ones rather than the Middle. After all, you can’t just choose not to obey gravity. Although I suppose you can’t choose not to feel Fear either. Something for me to think about, I suppose.”

    “What’s the plan for Voldemort going forward?” asked Tracey.

    “Well, right now for me it’s get stronger and keep an eye out for any leads on a horcrux. Like I said, the cup and the locket are in London, he keeps the snake and the ring on or near him, and we’re pretty sure the diadem is at Hogwarts. My main objectives this school year are to try and sniff out the diadem, now that I know the scent of his horcruxes. Mister Wright said he’s also gonna train me up in legilimency so I can try and subtly get the locations of the London horcruxes from him at the next Malfoy Yule Ball. But other than that, my priorities are strengthening myself and strengthening you guys while staying under the radar. Also, at some point I’ll start introducing the wizarding public to my alter ego and beginning preparations to fake my death.”

    The table broke into shouting and chatter, until Harriet quieted them. “I know, I know, but hear me out. There are certain limitations on myself if I stay as Harriet Potter, student at Hogwarts. I’m obligated to go to classes that I don’t need. I could probably pass all my OWLs right now, and ace the practicals. I’ll get a lot more out of independent study than classes, especially if I’m working on combining Fear and magic.”

    “How are you going to fake it then?” asked Blaise.

    “Not sure yet. If I don’t have an opportunity by the end of fourth year I’ll be more active about setting something up. It’s not a priority right now.”

    “And what’s this about an alter ego?” added Daphne.

    “Well, I’m at the point where I’m beginning to have powers that would be very difficult to explain if anyone saw them, but Riddle and the Death Eaters are on the loose, just biding their time, and the Headmaster can’t react fast enough when they attack, and the Ministry won’t, so I’m gonna.”

    “Like a superhero?” asked Luna.

    “More or less. Wait, Luna, how do you know about superheroes but not pens?” Luna just smiled and gave a little half-shrug.

---

    “Hi Grandpa! Am I finally allowed to fly outside?” Harriet said excitedly. She had been looking forward to this for a while.

    “Yes but-” Harriet immediately kicked off the ground and began falling upwards, only for Grandpa Fairchild to grab the sleeve of her shirt. “Watch it, missy! Flying outside is a whole different ballgame, see how I’m the only thing anchoring you right now? The Vast is a lot stronger when you don’t have a roof over your head. You’re gonna have to pretty much re-learn how to fly without completely falling into the Vast, got it? Now try and get yourself down, preferably without-” there was a loud thud “-falling in a heap like you just did.”

    Harriet groaned. “I just wanna fly.”

    “Hey, chin up kiddo. The only wizards in Britain who can fly without a broom are Voldy, Dumbles, and I guess technically any animagus whose form can fly. But Voldy and Dumbles have to turn half their body gaseous to do it, which is highly inconvenient for them. It’ll take a lot of hard work, but by the end of the summer I promise you you’ll be better at flying then they are.”

    “That’s what I’m talking about! Where do we start?”

---

    “Tracey?”

    “Yeah Daph?”

    “IsitbadthatIstilllikeHarrieteventhough-”

    “Slow down, dear cousin of mine. One word at a time. I’m assuming this is about Harriet?”

    “Shut up. Look, I was thinking, is it bad that I still like Harriet even knowing what she is?” Daphne asked nervously.

    Tracey was thoughtful for a moment. “Nah, probably not. I mean, you liked her before, so you’re not one of those fetishizing weirdos Wright mentioned. You still like her for her.”

    “...what if I like her more knowing how powerful she is? Or is going to be?” Daphne asked softly.

    Tracey snorted. “Nothing wrong with wanting someone powerful. Although if you mean that in like, a sexual way, I’m probably out of my depth. Try Blaise.”

    “Shut up!” Daphne said, blushing. “I didn’t mean it in a sexual way! I don’t think... And either way I’d rather listen to a mandrake opera than try and ask Blaise for advice about sex and feelings.”

---

    “So how far have you gotten in the Boneturner’s Tale?” asked Mister Haan.

    “Page 63!” Harriet reported happily. “I think I’ve gotten a sense of when I need to stop and process. Some weeks I can do two pages, some weeks I can only do a paragraph, but the more-than-usual weeks are more common than the less-than-usual ones. And I’ve been keeping up with the practical aspects, as well.”

    “Okay, let’s see what you can do.” said Mister Haan. Harriet gave a nod before closing her eyes in concentration. She started small, turning her fingernails hard and sharp. Then she let the power work through her hands, making them larger and stronger. She did the same to her arms, reinforcing the bones so they could handle the weight of the dense muscles she gave herself. She did the same to her legs, the new muscles and bigger bones straining her loose track pants. Then came the hard parts. First she scaled up her torso in proportion to her new limbs, being very careful not to mess with any of her internal organs other than expanding and strengthening her lungs and heart to supply oxygen to her bigger body. She shrunk her adolescent breasts flat against her ribcage and took a deep breath before the hardest part. She started with the bone structure, carefully reshaping her skull to have a long, canine snout, and reshaping her brain to be the appropriate form without causing any damage to the delicate organ. After that, it was a simple matter of strengthening her neck to support her larger head and adding the black bristles and pointed ears of the jackal.

    “Ta-da!” Harriet tried to say, except it came out rather warped from her fanged mouth, causing Mister Haan to let out a snort of mirth.

    “Based off of Anubis, yes? Very impressive. But that took you five minutes. You need to practice the transformation as well as actually using that form. That said, it is a very impressive bit of flesh-shaping for someone with only a year of practice, especially considering that everything looks… smooth, I suppose is the best word. You could pass as something naturally occurring. I recommend exercising and meditating in this form to get a better feel for it, that will help you transform faster. Now, let’s see how fast you can shift back.”

---

    “Hey Sigmund, I was wondering, is it possible to use two wands at once?” Harriet asked Daphne’s father one afternoon after duelling practice.

    “Well, it’s possible, on a theoretical level, but not very practical. For one thing, you tire yourself out twice as fast, so you need an exceptionally large magical core for it to be worth it, although you certainly do from what I’ve seen. The harder part is that it requires a nearly superhuman level of concentration. When you duel, you must split your attention between moving your body to evade attacks and position yourself to counterattack, and using your wand and your magic to attack and block. Dual-wielding means you split your attention three ways instead of two. Plus, you generally need to be able to cast silently and without wand movements for both, unless you always want to be casting the same spell twice. They said Merlin could do it effectively, but I’ve also heard stories that Merlin created the moon, so I won’t comment on whether or not that story is accurate.”

    “Interesting.” was all that Harriet said.

---

    “Mister Michael?”

    “Yes Harriet?”

    “How do you know if you’re in love?”

    “What?”

    “I said how do you know if-”

    “Yes I heard what you said, I’m just kind of confused why you’re asking me instead of the guy who literally Knows everything.”

    “He doesn’t Know everything, for better or for worse. And the Eye has trouble with emotions that aren’t fear. So does Mister Wright, now that I think about it, he really only does scary, irritated, and tired. You’re one of my two human guardians, and Mister Dekker is off with Miss Robinson trying to negotiate with Gabriel, hence why I’m asking you. And no, I don’t need The Talk, I already got that from Mister Lukas.”

    “You got The Talk from old man Lukas? No wonder you need some things explained. Alright, take a seat kid.”

    “I feel obligated to remind you that, at 92, you are a few years older than Mister Lukas.” Harriet said with a grin as she curled up in an armchair in the living room.

    “I’m young at heart. He’s been an octogenarian his whole life.” Mister Michael said dismissively. “Okay, so love. The first thing you gotta know is that there’s different kinds of love. You’ve got familial love, like how I love you. There’s friendly love, like how I love Adelard. And there’s romantic love, like how I love my wife, may she rest in peace.”

    “So how do I know if I feel friendly love or romantic love?” asked Harriet impatiently.

    Mister Michael shrugged. “I think it’s probably different for everyone. Mabel and I had been childhood friends, and one day she was complaining about her parents trying to set her up with some twit, and I realized I wasn’t just sad at the thought of her marrying some twit, I was sad at the thought of her marrying some twit that wasn’t me. So I started courting her and we got married a year later. Of course, things go differently these days, and that’s without taking into account the magical aspect. And I don’t know if it’s different for women. I guess, my advice would be, if you know, you know. Don’t try and rush things, take your time, whether that means dating a bunch of people before you find someone you want to be with long-term, or whether that means not letting some jackass pressure you into doing something you don’t want to.”

    “That’s… more helpful than Mister Wright was, at least. Thanks Mister Michael.”

    “Of course sweetie. Wanna help with dinner?”

---

    “Whatcha reading? Is it something safe for me?” asked Hermione as they sat in the garden of Greengrass Manor. The others were tossing around a quaffle, but Hermione was doing some preparatory reading for Ancient Runes and Harriet had a variety of books splayed across her lap and the table beside her.

    “Muggle textbooks, very safe.” Harriet said as she made a note in one of her notebooks. Hermione looked over the books.

    “Why are you reading anatomical studies of snakes, frogs, and cephalopods? Are you becoming an animagus?”

    “Nah, it’s a flesh-shaping thing. I’ve gotten an alternate form I can snap into now, so I’m going to try and work on- relatively- simpler modifications before I start on another snap form. The thing about flesh-shaping is that you really have to understand what you’re creating for it to work. It’s one thing to create a structure that looks like gills, it’s another to create a structure that acts like gills. But this is much more complicated than gills.”

    Harriet clenched a fist and Hermione gasped her arm turned into a slimy grey tentacle with a smooth, pointy claw at the end, though it only flopped limply onto the table. “The idea is that eventually I’ll be able to pop a dozen of these out of my back, and they’ll be venomous. The problems are that venom glands are almost as complicated as gills, and tentacles are even more so. Setting aside how hard it is to get a limb to function and be able to hold itself up without bones, the really hard bit is that octopus tentacles are packed with neurons that let them act semi-autonomously. Which apparently is also a foundational concept of advanced flesh-shaping, according to a Canadian avatar I’ve been corresponding with.”

    “That sounds… fascinating, but disgusting.” Hermione settled on as Harriet changed her arm back. Harriet laughed.

    “Yeah, that’s a lot of flesh-shaping really. Like, even when I just make myself taller and stronger, it feels weird. I’m not used to being ripped, you know?”

    Hermione giggled. “It’s gotta be fun though. No pickle jar can stand in your way!”

    Harriet laughed. “I can turn myself into a walking steroids advertisement and your first thought is a crusade against pickle jars? My first thought was that I could go to America and make a fortune as one of their fake television wrestlers!”

    “You could be an olympic weight lifter! Or really an olympic anything, really. Bulk up, win a gold for weight lifting, slim down, win a gold for swimming, then put everything into your legs and win a gold for sprinting.”

    “Nah, I’m pretty sure they would notice something was up if I won in three separate sports with three separate body types. It’s an amusing thought though. Maybe if I had multiple alternate identities… made illusions when we had to be seen together… but the ICW probably has someone in the medical labs making sure wizards don’t enter. Which could be circumnavigated, but would probably be more trouble than it’s worth.”

    “Oh, so being an American wrestler is perfectly reasonable, but the olympics aren’t?” Hermione said, pretending to be offended.

    “I mean, there’d be issues, but not impossible ones. Their television wrestling doesn’t exactly care about the health of their actors as long as they look good and put on a good show. All I’d have to do is make myself look like a guy and ham it up.”

    “You can do that with flesh-shaping? Change your sex?” Hermione asked curiously.

    “Yeah, although I haven’t done it. It feels weird enough being tall and muscly, I don’t wanna imagine what it would feel like to have a beard or a thingy if I don’t have to.”

    “Fair point, fair point.” admitted Hermione. “I think it might be interesting to like, have one for a day, just to see what it’s like, but I definitely wouldn’t want to have one long-term.”

    “Hmm, I’ll let you know when I’m able to reliably do flesh-shaping on other people without turning them into horrifying abominations.” Harriet said absent-mindedly before realizing she had just offered to give her friend a dick, which caused both her and Hermione to blush madly.

---

    “So what exactly can I do with this?” Harriet asked as she played with the shadows she was holding in her hands, stretching them like putty and letting it flow between her fingers.

    “Excellent question!” said Mister Rayner as Doctor Dominguez scribbled notes and fiddled with machines. “Shadows are, effectively, a fourth- wait, no, fifth? Sixth? Which are we on now? Anyway, they’re effectively another state of matter, or maybe a different type of matter. In the hands of a powerful Dark avatar, they can be just about anything, gaining or changing properties as needed. I’m sure you’ve already noticed how it acts like a liquid or a solid as you like it to. That’s just the beginning. The only properties it consistently has is that it’s black, it hurts the eye and the Eye to look at, and any source of light with prolonged exposure to a physical shadow will eventually malfunction.”

    “So the limits are just your power and your imagination, huh?” said Harriet with grin.

    “You got it!” Mister Rayner said as he picked up his own shadow. “It can be a weapon-” the formless black blob in his hands turned into a sword “-a tool-” the sword turned into shovel “-or just something fun to mess around with.” the shovel turned into a ball that Mister Rayner bounced on the floor a few times before turning the ball into what looked like a slice of pie that Mister Rayner casually took a bite out of.

    “Three questions: One, are shadows edible? Two, what happens now that you don’t have a shadow? Three, would it be possible to, say, turn shadows into a ring or an amulet that protects the wearer from legilimency?”

    Mister Rayner grinned. “One: for Dark avatars, kind of, we can just store the shadows in our bodies.” he popped the last bite of the shadow pie into his mouth before holding out his hand, in which the shadow pie reformed. “Two: not having a shadow isn’t a big deal, it’ll come back when I move into a different source of light, or just recharge slowly over time if I don’t. And three: I can probably work out how to make something like that in a week or two. How many do you need?”

    “Eight, please. You’re the best!”

---

    Neville smiled as he stepped through the floo to Potter Manor. Apparently Harriet and her guardians were working on getting it fixed up, and Harriet wanted to consult him about the best way to put the greenhouses to work. It was actually really nice of her, he thought. She could probably have just used her Eye powers to figure out what crops would do best, or plant nothing but one plant and then use web powers to destroy everyone else’s supply of it, and maybe she would, but he was still glad she wanted to hear his opinion.

    “Hey Nev!” she said cheerily as he walked into the sitting room. “Welcome to Potter Manor, soon to be our base of field operations! You want the tour first or should we get right into the greenhouses?”

    “Let’s get business out of the way first, I’m really curious to see what we’ve got to work with here! Is there anything in particular you want to make room for?”

    “Yes, actually. So we have three regular sized greenhouses, and a smaller one designed to simulate a tropical environment, but it will probably need significant maintenance to get it up and running again.” Harriet explained as they walked across the lawn towards the greenhouses. “I want one greenhouse dedicated to foodstuffs on the off chance that Potter Manor is ever under an extended siege.”

“Really? Sieges kinda seem like the exact opposite of You-Know-Who’s style.” Neville said with a frown.

“Oh absolutely, if we were going to be besieged it would probably be by the muggle military. I don’t anticipate the Statute of Secrecy being irreparably broken, or on antagonizing the muggles if it is, but better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. Plus, I think fresh vegetables taste better than store-bought.”

“Fair enough.” Neville said with a grin, although he was a little worried that Harriet was making contingencies for a siege. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, dittany and shrivelfigs. Dittany since we’re going to turn the East wing of the manor into a medical facility, and shrivelfigs because the ritual to make a fake corpse of me is gonna need absurd amounts of shrivelfigs, and the less we have to buy the fewer eyebrows we’ll raise.” 

“We could go one greenhouse of food, one of dittany, and one of shrivelfigs, at least for our first harvest.” Neville suggested. “It won’t be turning a profit and it won’t be terribly interesting to look after, but it’ll get us a good foundation for our stockpiles.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Want to take a look at the tropical greenhouse?”

It was as Neville and Harriet were inspecting the runes and charms on the tropical greenhouse that Neville realized what it was that was bothering him. “Hey Harriet, are you going to be a Dark Lord?” he asked before immediately regretting it. After all, if the answer was yes, that could easily earn him a curse to the face.

“Hmm, interesting question.” Harriet mused. “I think I’d be a Dark Lady, but that’s semantics. It probably depends on your perspective. I’d never be so pretentious as to call myself a Dark Lady or any other made up title, and if I do, please slap me. I won’t lie Nev, when I’m openly moving against the Headmaster, he will probably call me a Dark Lady, whether I’m going by Harriet Potter or not. Personally, I don’t think that I would consider myself a Dark Lady, given that my primary goals are to defeat Voldemort and democratize magical Britain. But if you think that’ll be an issue, now’s the time to let me know.”

“I- no, it won’t. You’re my friend, no matter what anybody calls you.” Neville said firmly. “But why would Dumbledore call you a Dark Lady if you try to defeat Voldemort and democratize Britain?”

“Because I’ll be defeating Voldemort with powers he doesn’t understand, and the Headmaster is an old man who is set in his ways. If he does not understand it, he fears it. Similarly, he sees Britain as a chessboard, with him playing one side and Riddle playing the other. He cannot fathom the idea of a third side. To him, you follow the Goat or the Snake, there is no other option. You can switch sides, but you can’t be independent. Therefore, when I refuse to follow his orders, he will assume I support Voldemort.”

“That’s… I see why you don’t like Dumbledore then. Just… be careful, alright Harriet? You’re crazy strong and only getting stronger. We don’t have a failsafe if you go bonkers.”

“Of course Neville. A failsafe though… that’s a good idea…” she mused.

---

    “Good morning Harriet. Before we begin your legilimency practice, I’d like to update you on some worrying news. Last night, Sirius Black apparated into a small muggle village North of Edinburgh and starting attacking. He killed twenty four muggles and an auror before he fled. Now obviously he was under the Imperious Curse, but this is still an escalation. The Death Eaters Riddle freed from Azkaban are all laying low at Riddle Manor right now, but their current plan is to use Sirius as an expendable way to drum up fear while they make maneuvers in the background to stage a coup at the Ministry.” 

    “Well shit.” Harriet muttered as she sank into one of the chairs across from Mister Wright’s desk.

    “I’ll let that slide this time. We can try and capture, or rather rescue, Sirius ourselves if the opportunity arises, but I honestly think it’s questionable how effective that will be. His reputation will be irreparably damaged now, and it may be most prudent to simply kill him next time the Death Eaters pull a stunt like this.”

    “...I’ll think about it.” Harriet said gravely. “Now, practice! Legilimens !”

Chapter Text

    “Hey guys!” Hermione smiled as Harriet bounded up to her at platform nine and three quarters. 

    “Hey Harriet! Should we wait for the others?”

    “Nah, Neville is gonna be really late and Blaise got roped into a conversation with Nott and Malfoy, let’s just go get a seat.”

    “Poor Blaise. Let’s go then.” Hermione said and they stepped onto the train (Harriet unashamedly levitating a coffin behind her, much to Hermione’s amusement). Then Harriet froze, sniffing the air, and Hermione instinctively drew her wand.

    “Is it a you know what?” Hermione whispered.

    “No... “ Harriet said, still smelling the air. “There’s another Hunter on this train.” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I’m going to go introduce myself.”

    “Is that safe?” asked Hermione worriedly, even as she followed Harriet anyways.

    “Probably. It’s probably just- yeah, it’s the new DADA teacher.” Harriet replied after a few more sniffs. “He’s cool, according to Mister Wright.”

    “Then why does he smell like a capital-H Hunter?” Hermione said.

    “Here we are!” said Harriet, stepping into one of the compartments on the last car where a haggard looking man was snoozing. Hermione watched as Harriet cast a series of privacy spells (and reminded herself to ask Harriet to teach her those) before Harriet said “This is Professor Lupin, he’s a school friend of my birth parents and also a werewolf. Don’t worry, waning crescent tonight.”

    Hermione cast a wary glance at the Professor before reminding herself that Dumbledore and Wright trusted him, and even if he did somehow transform right now Harriet could probably protect her. “So how’d he know your parents?”

    “They were all Gryffindors in the same year. I’ll explain more when everyone is here. And you can stop pretending to sleep, Professor.”

    “What gave it away?” he asked as he sat up and opened his eyes.

    “Nose started twitching when I walked in, breathing hitched for a second when I said you were a school friend of my parents.”

    “Impressive. You’re Harriet, then?” he asked quietly.

    “Indeed! A pleasure to make your acquaintance. It’ll be a nice change to have a competent defense teacher this year. May I introduce you to my friend, Miss Hermione Granger?”

    Hermione smiled nervously and extended her hand, which Professor Lupin carefully shook with poorly hidden surprise. “It’s a rare wix who will shake a werewolf’s hand.” he said.

    “Oh, Hermione’s dealt with much scarier things than a werewolf, especially one as well behaved as you are.” Harriet said with a laugh, before pausing, apparently having also picked up on how the Professor bristled. “I’m sorry, you misunderstand. I’m not calling you tame, Professor, I know how loaded that term is for your kind. I’m simply saying that I know you would never intentionally harm us, and are very careful not to unintentionally do so.”

    Professor Lupin narrowed his eyes at Harriet, and Hermione felt like she was suddenly out of her depth. “What are you?” asked Lupin, flicking his wrist to draw his wand from a forearm holster into his hand, though for now it was still pointed at the ceiling.

    “Colloportus.” Harriet said, waving her hand at the door, and Hermione felt the tension in the room increase exponentially. “What gave it away?” she asked with a smile, though Hermione noted it was still her normal smile, and not the intimidation-focused affront to dentistry that Harriet had asked for her opinion on over the summer.

    “You knew immediately that I was a werewolf, you know the intricacies of werewolf politics and slang, and you smell more dangerous than anybody I’ve ever met. And I’ve seen You-Know-Who in battle.”

    “What has the Headmaster told you about me?” Harriet said, and Hermione felt there was power behind her words.

    “He told me you were raised by unknown creatures, probably dark, but that there’s still hope for you since you’re in Hufflepuff. He said it’s worrying that you were friends with Slytherins first year but that you seemed to have, and I quote ‘gotten the right idea’ and dropped them. He’s told me that I should introduce myself to you and ingratiate you to the light. I didn’t feel comfortable with that, and told him so, but he said it was crucial for the greater good that you be a firm cornerstone of the Light so that you would continue to back him in the Wizengamot. He said he was looking at lifting the werewolf ban at Hogwarts but he needed every vote he could get for that so I agreed to try and befriend you.” He paused, looking at Harriet, his face as shocked as Hermione knew her own probably was. “How did you do that?” he asked.

    “You’re the one who said I smell more dangerous than Voldemort.” Harriet said with a smirk. 

    “I suppose I did. Now are you going to answer my question?” Professor Lupin countered.

    “Sure. My guardians, are not dark creatures, and you of all people should know that even if they were that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, but they are inhuman. One of them knows an awful lot of things, and has taught me some of them. One of the things he taught me about was werewolf culture. I also know how to speak respectfully with other werefolk, goblins, merfolk, veela, vampires, centaurs, and dwarves.”

    Hermione was relieved as Professor Lupin put his wand away. “He sounds like a very cosmopolitan man.”

    “He is, but it’s mostly a matter of practicality.” Harriet said, dropping the privacy spells and unlocking the door. “No sense in making a bad first impression, especially when a good one is as easy as knowing how to say hello properly. Speaking of which, hello Daphne, Tracey, Blaise!” Harriet said as the two girls entered the compartment while Blaise peeked his head around the door frame. “Guys, this is Professor Lupin, Professor, this is Heiress Daphne Greengrass of the House of Greengrass, Heir Blaise Zabini of the Italian House of Zabini, and Miss Tracey Davis.”

    Hermione ignored the introductions to gawk at the fact that, while introducing her friends to the professor, Harriet made a complicated wand movement and the space in the compartment seemed to double.

    “You know that charm is illegal without a Ministry license, right?” Hermione asked as Blaise walked in and sat down.

    “You know that the license is just so that nobody outside the Rowle family breaks into the trunk business, right?” Harriet replied with a smirk.

    “You still committed a minor crime in front of a teacher.” Blaise pointed out uneasily.

    “Don’t worry, I’m supposed to like Professor Lupin, and I don’t think having me arrested is the best way for him to go about that.” Harriet said with a wink.

    “And you trust him?” Tracey asked calculatingly. Hermione noted that Professor Lupin was also looking at Harriet oddly.

    “I trust him not to rat me out to the Ministry.” Harriet said. “He’s Professor Dumbledore’s man, for now, but aside from that he’s trustworthy. Besides” she added, turning towards the Professor “you’re no stranger from turning a blind eye to your friends’ violations of Ministry regulations, are you Professor?”

    Professor Lupin blushed and looked down, but didn’t deny it. “Ooh, what’d he do?” Tracey asked excitedly.

    “His three closest friends became animagi at Hogwarts and he never told a soul.”

    Hermione noted how Harriet stared at the Professor as she said that rather than Tracey, and how Lupin looked distinctly guilty, like there was something more that was being left unsaid. Then Luna and Neville entered, and there was another round of introductions, and the conversation moved on to lighter topics.

---

    Remus Lupin was looking at an open book but not reading it. As he tuned out the sounds of the childrens’ Exploding Snap game, his mind raced trying to figure out the girl who smelled like danger. Obviously Dumbledore was not joking about Harriet’s guardians being powerful forces if they had been able to tell Harriet that he was a werewolf and that the other Marauders were animagi. But that was honestly the least of Lupin’s concerns.

    His biggest worry was that she did not explain her scent. She smelled like a lot of things, but the common thread among them was danger. He hadn’t been lying when he said she smelled more like danger than You-Know-Who did. They were close, but she just barely edged him out. He shivered as it occurred to him that this little third year could probably tear the likes of Greyback or Bellatrix limb from limb if his nose was right.

    But he was also worried about the way she said he was “Dumbledore’s man, for now”. It implied that she was against the Headmaster and that she thought he would betray him. Both were worrying, especially factoring in how much she scared his inner wolf. He had no idea how a fight between her and Dumbledore would play out, but he suspected it would be highly destructive.

    Then again, it wasn’t impossible that the wolf was wrong. He looked at the girl laughing as the cards exploded in her face, and wondered if she was really as powerful as someone like Voldemort or Dumbledore. Surely not, he thought. She was probably going to be a great witch, but she was only 13. He was getting old, surely. She was not nearly as much of a threat as he thought, it was just impossible.

    She was just a girl, he reminded himself. Just a girl, weak, weaker than him. Just a little child in a room full of children and there he was, all alone, a filthy-

    Lupin suddenly sat up straight as he noticed the frost creeping across the windows. Dumbledore had warned the staff the Ministry was stationing dementors around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade to guard against any attacks from Sirius, but he hadn’t said anything about them searching the train.

    “Stay back. Dementors.” he warned as he stood up and drew his wand. Harriet gave him a calculating look before nodding and wrapping her arms around Daphne and Hermione, who were both curled in on themselves and shaking. Mist seeped under the door as it slowly rattled open, and Remus felt himself freeze for a moment before leveling his wand at the creature and casting the Patronus Charm. The dementor fled from his silver wolf and he turned back to the children in his compartment.

    “You should help clear the train, professor. You’re probably the only person here who knows the Patronus spell.” Harriet said.

    Remus felt conflicted. He knew on an intellectual level that Harriet was right, the chances of someone else on the train being able to chase off dementors was astronomically low. But this was James’s daughter; he’d never be able to forgive himself if she had her soul sucked out because he was helping at the other end of the train.

    “Go. We have chocolate, and I have my own ways of dealing with dementors. We’ll be fine, Professor.”

    Lupin hesitated another moment before deciding to trust this girl and the wolf, who both said she could take care of herself. “Be safe. There’s more chocolate in the left pocket of my duffel bag if you need it.”

---

    Daphne shivered and pressed herself closer into Harriet’s side as Professor Lupin left. Right now it wasn’t even about her crush, Harriet was just solid and warm and comforting. Hermione was doing the same thing and she didn’t have a crush on Harriet, Daphne justified to herself. The dementor’s presence had made her feel so hopeless, like she had been in the Chamber again with Tom but Harriet hadn’t come for her. She felt Harriet place a hand on her cheek and she blushed as Harriet gently pulled her face out from where it had been pressed to her knees.

    “It’s okay Daphne. You’re safe. They’re gone, and I’m here. You are not alone, okay? Now eat this, it’ll make you feel better, okay?” Harriet whispered gently, handing her a chocolate bar.

    “Okay. Just… please don’t go?” Daphne said timidly before taking a bite of her chocolate.

    “I won’t. I promise I won’t.” Harriet said, gently rubbing Daphne’s back. Daphne looked up to take stock of the situation. She was pressing herself against Harriet, Hermione was holding Neville and Harriet close to her, and on the other side of the compartment Tracey and Luna were clinging to Blaise, who didn’t seem to be doing much better than any of the others.

    “So that was a Dementor, huh?” Neville asked shakily. Other than Harriet, he seemed to Daphne to be handling it the best.

    “Yup. Foul, foul things.” Harriet said venomously before wandlessly raising privacy charms. It occurred to Daphne that it was unusual she could recognize the feel of the spells, but she chalked that up to having felt them so many times. “Coincidently created by Herpo the Foul.”

    “Isn’t he the first wizard to hatch a basilisk?” asked Hermione shakily, and Daphne realized that Harriet was probably trying to distract them, or at least Hermione.

    “And the one who invented horcruxes. He did a lot to deserve that moniker. I think dementors are the worst thing he did though. They’re a twisted amalgamation of soul manipulation, Loneliness, and magic. He based them on lethifolds, and thank whatever is listening that he never figured out how to get around the lethifold’s weakness to the Patronus, otherwise we could very well be living under Herpo’s boot today.”

    “Is that why they didn’t affect you? Because you’re an avatar?” Daphne asked.

    “They do affect me. I’m just used to dealing with stuff like that.” Harriet said quietly, and Daphne tentatively put an arm around Harriet’s shoulders. She blushed as Harriet smiled and leaned her head on top of Daphne’s. There were a few minutes of blessed peace as the group was content to simply hold each other and be comforted by the presence of their friends.

    “So how do you defend against dementors?” Neville asked eventually.

    “The Patronus Charm is the normal way. Dementors need a master; Herpo didn’t want to create something independent, but they can choose their masters, so it’s theoretically possible to get them to defect, but in practice it’s very different. Or if you’re a strong Lonely avatar you can… overpower them. Like I said, they are partly a manifestation of the Lonely, so if your connection to the Lonely is stronger than theirs, you can forcibly sever it, and then transform them. The normal protocol for that- or as normal as it can be when Mister Wright says it’s only happened twice- is for the avatar to absorb the magical energy and leave the soul part as a dementor skeleton.”

    “You mean dementor bones are real? I’ve heard that there are some really dark rituals and potions that need them but I thought it was impossible to kill dementors, so…” Tracey trailed off. “It’s funny, I’m not sure if I’m more reassured by the fact that dementors can be destroyed, or unnerved by the fact that rituals that use dementor bone are actually possible.”

    “So that’s why Mister Wright was so insistent that I not allow anyone access to a dementor skeleton.” Harriet mused.

    “Yeah, imagine if someone like Sirius Black got their hands on dementor bone.” Daphne said from her position snuggled up with Harriet.

    “Yes, Sirius Black… we’re gonna have another meeting in the South Tower after the welcoming feast, I’ll tell you all about my plans for my Godfather then.”

---

    Severus Snape only narrowly resisted rolling his eyes when he saw an origami spider crawling up his chair during the sorting. He surreptitiously scooped it into his hand where it neatly unfolded itself. He glanced down and read the message: “South Tower after feast. I have gifts.”

    Snape actually did roll his eyes that time as he shot a glance at Minerva. She caught his eye and gave a minute nod. He returned it and his gaze swept past the terrified first year on the stool to survey the Hufflepuffs, and one third year in particular.

    He still couldn’t figure out Harriet Potter, even knowing what she was. She was a self-confessed monster, yet she was also a little girl. She was capable of casually ordering people’s deaths, yet she cried with relief when her friends escaped danger. She didn’t seem to take after either of her parents; she lacked James’s arrogant swagger, but also Lily’s fiery temper. He supposed that made sense since she was raised by different people, but it still felt so strange to him, especially with how much she resembled her parents. She had James’s haughty features and messy raven hair, but also Lily’s eye color and slender build.

    It was an interesting distinction, he thought as Dumbledore ran through the start of year announcements, that she had Lily’s eye color, but not her eyes. They had that same eye-catching, piercing green, but where Lily’s eyes were either drawing in people with an intelligent warmth or terrifying people with a blazing anger, Harriet’s were cold. She laughed and smiled, but he’d been watching her closely for two years and it was rarely genuine. She was always watching, always calculating. She was, he thought with a snort, what every little Slytherin thinks they are: the coldly calculating machine that will do anything to reach their goals. Yet Harriet is also more, he thinks. He had heard her tearful reunion with Daphne through the door at St Mungos when he was going to go pay his student a visit (Severus did care about his snakes, although very few people would say so out loud) and he knew she did have feelings, she was simply incredibly skilled at only letting people see what she wanted them too.

    “...and with that out of the way, I shall only say a few more words before we tuck in. Pootis! Saxophone! Ni! Engineer Gaming!” said Dumbledore, concluding his speech. Snape rolled his eyes at the Headmaster’s time-wasting nonsense and began scooping salad onto his plate.

---

    Minerva McGonagall could admit she was curious as she and Severus walked with the children towards the South Tower. Interestingly, Harriet’s little clique seemed to have doubled since the last time they met, with the three Slytherins she had been friendly with in her first year apparently back in her good graces, as well as little Luna Lovegood. They didn’t talk as they walked, but she noticed everyone shooting glances at the plain leather briefcase Harriet carried.

    “Hello everyone, thanks for coming.” Harriet began once they were in the South Tower and the privacy charms were cast. “So I’ve got four things to cover tonight. First, Sirius Black. Daphne, I assume your mother told me about the rumors I started at the Malfoy Yule Ball first year?”

    “Yeah, that Black was framed by Dumbledore? Oh Merlin, it’s true, isn’t it? But then why is he attacking muggles?” Daphne said.

    “Wait, Black is innocent? And framed by Albus?” Minerva asked, her mind spinning. She knew Albus was stubborn, secretive, and arrogant, but this was on another level entirely.

    “Yes. Pettigrew was the real secret keeper, my birth parents made the switch at the last minute and didn’t tell anyone in order to keep the pressure on Sirius. Only they, Sirius, Pettigrew, and the Headmaster knew. But the Goat didn’t like how Sirius had been killing Death Eaters and using some spells he considered dark, so when Pettigrew betrayed the Potters he used it as an opportunity to have Sirius put in Azkaban.”

    “But Black killed Pettigrew! There were witnesses!” Snape objected.

    “Pettigrew was an unregistered animagus, a rat. He accused Sirius, hit him with a strong cheering charm, cut off his finger, blasted open the street, turned into a rat, and scampered into the sewers. Anyways, it would have called things into question for the Death Eaters to leave Sirius behind when Riddle broke them out, so they kidnapped him, and now they’ve got him causing havoc under the Imperious Curse.”

    “So what are you going to do about him? You have to admit that most people won’t believe he isn’t evil at this point.” said Blaise.

    “Unfortunately, you’re correct. I’m going to try and capture him. If any of you encounter him, your first priority should be to defend yourselves and get away. He’s being controlled by Bellatrix Lestrange, so he’s got a combination of both of their skills, so he’s very dangerous. Professors, if you encounter him, I’d request that you try to capture him if you can, but not if you won’t be able to get him to me before the DMLE gets their mitts on him. In that situation, kill him.”

    Minerva made a choking sound as Severus raised his eyebrows. “I cannot believe James Potter’s daughter is telling me to kill Sirius Black. What has my life become?” 

    “With all due respect Miss Potter, are you sure about killing him?” Minerva asked.

    “Yes, although I understand if you are unable or unwilling to do so. But he does have a kiss on sight order on him, and I Know that death is far preferable to the dementor’s kiss. But as I said, having him captured is far preferable, due to topic two.”

    “Lupin.” Snape sneered, causing Minerva to lightly smack him on the arm.

    “Right. Currently, he is blindly loyal to the Headmaster. I believe if we capture Sirius, he can break Professor Lupin’s enamorment with the old Goat.” Harriet said, ignoring Snape’s clear hatred.

    “And why, pray tell, do we need the wo- do we need Lupin?” asked Snape disdainfully, and Minerva glared at him for his probably-intentional near slip-up.

    “First of all, let’s just all acknowledge that Professor Lupin is a werewolf and if you’re not afraid of me then you have no reason to be afraid of him. And as for why we need him, he’s very intelligent, he gives us a foothold with the werepacks, and he’s a good candidate for becoming an avatar.”

    “You want to turn him into an avatar?” Hermione asked sharply.

    “I want to give him the option. Werewolves are already Hunters, he’d simply be formalizing and strengthening his link. I could make him many times stronger, at the cost of him not being able to hide the wolf. It’s just an option though, and the decision will be up to him. And that’s all dependent on whether or not we’re able to capture Sirius. Anyway, onto topic three!” Harriet said, opening the briefcase to reveal a set of pitch black jewelry. There were eight rings, necklaces, bracelets, and sets of earrings.

    “Are they safe to touch?” Tracey asked cautiously.

    “More than! See, it occurred to me that while I can protect my mind from the good Headmaster’s legilimency, not all of you can, so I had Mister Rayner make you items out of shadows that can protect you from legilimency. There’s variety, too, since it would be suspicious if you all suddenly started constantly wearing identical rings. So just make sure you’re always wearing one of these. And Professor Snape, I know you know occlumency, but I don’t know if you could withstand an unrestrained attack from the Headmaster or Riddle, so better safe than sorry.”

    Minerva was amused by Severus’s grumbling, but he eventually put a necklace on under his robes. “Excellent!” said Harriet. “Now one last thing.” she added, pulling four bags from her pocket, one red, one yellow, one blue, and one green. “Neville pointed out to me over the summer that I could easily become a Dark Lady magnitudes worse than Riddle, and there’s nothing stopping that from happening. Therefore, I decided to make myself a kill switch. I got a runic array tattooed on me that will, when activated, simultaneously poison, electrocute, suffocate, and explode me. Inside each bag is a quarter of the Hogwarts crest. When combined, they activate the runic array to kill me.”

    “Are you sure about this?” asked Hermione. “What if someone else gets them?”

    “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Harriet said as she handed Hermione the blue bag. “Besides, nobody will even know about this unless someone in this room thinks they should tell.” Harriet said as she gave Neville the yellow pouch. “For this to be used against me, someone would have to learn the kill switch exists, learn where each piece is, and get them from you guys.” Harriet said as she gave the green pouch to Daphne. “I have faith in every person here, that you will protect the pieces of the crest if it doesn’t need to be used and that you will combine them if it does.” she said, and Minerva felt shock as Harriet gave her the red bag.

    “...thank you, Miss Potter. We won’t let you down.”

    The group was silent as they picked up their things and began making their way back to their respective sleeping quarters. “Join me for a nightcap, Severus?” she said just before he turned to go down the stair into the dungeon. He looked surprised but nodded and followed her to her quarters. She was quiet as she poured them each a generous shot of firewhiskey. She downed it quickly before opening the red bag she had been given. Inside was a quarter of a disc, one flat edge had a single hole in the side, while the other had two pegs sticking out. One side had the lion portion of the Hogwarts crest, while the other side was covered in a multitude of tiny runes she had to squint to make out.

    “My eyes are too old for this, can you make any sense of this, Severus?” He must have been really tired because he let his surprise show yet again, but he took the piece and examined the runes on the back.

    “Interesting, very interesting.” he said after a few minutes (and a couple more shots for both teachers). “I’m no expert in runes, I didn’t take anything past OWL level, but I’m pretty sure most of this section is Elder Futhark. I think you got the exploding part of the array, but it’s the runes in the middle and on the edge that really have me puzzled. Like I said, I’m no expert, but I haven’t seen anything that looks like this. If I had to guess, I would guess she found some language that makes arrays in crosses instead of the usual circles or lines so that she can keep the activation and targeting sections separated so that you can’t recreate them based on one or two pieces.”

    “She definitely asked to go into Hufflepuff.” Minerva said, tossing back another shot.

    “This is definitely a Ravenclaw device. A post-NEWT Ravenclaw device.” Severus agreed. “I wonder how much of this was her and how much of it was Wright.”

    “Yeah. Bathsheda’s gonna go nuts for this girl.” Minerva said with a chuckle. “Ten sickles says she shows up to the start of term staff meeting raving about how brilliant the girl is.”

    “I don’t take losing bets, Minerva, I’m not that drunk.” Snape replied with a scowl.

---

    Hermione was fascinated as she lay on her bed examining the runework on the back of the Ravenclaw section of the crest. Most of the runes she could see looked East Asian, but the ones near the corner and flat edges were like nothing she had seen before, although granted a lot of them were cut off and she hadn’t even been to her first Ancient Runes class. She was definitely going to pay close attention in that class. Not that she wouldn’t anyways, of course, but still. 

---

    Neville ran his thumb over the complicated looking runes on the back of the Hufflepuff quarter of the crest, wondering what they meant. He had been very glad that he had been able to talk his gran into letting him take Care of Magical Creatures instead of Ancient Runes, on the grounds that it would have more applications for Herbology. She still made him take Arithmancy, though. But Harriet was taking that too, so it hopefully wouldn’t be too bad. 

    She really was amazing, he reflected. He was incredibly lucky that she had been sorted into Hufflepuff along with him. Maybe it was because he was known as Harriet’s friend, and she wasn’t close with the other Hufflepuffs, but he wasn’t very close with any of his housemates. He was familiar with Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Ernie MacMillan, and Zacharias Smith from various light-aligned pureblood functions, but he was never very close with them. He wondered what his gran would say if she knew he was closer friends with Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini than any of the Hufflepuff purebloods.

    He wondered again for a fleeting moment if he should be worried that he was closer with more Slytherins than Hufflepuffs, but banished the thought. The Slytherins were actually a lot nicer to him than the Gryffindors, or at least the ones he was friends with were. And Harriet was a good person. She hadn’t just listened to his concerns over the summer, she had taken serious steps to address them. She took him seriously despite him not being the best at magic, and if anyone would have been justified in looking down on him for being less powerful, it would be Harriet. She was genuinely nice, crazy strong, and also really pretty. He could definitely see why Daphne had a crush on her. In fact…

    Neville blushed at the realization. Daphne wasn’t the only one who wanted Harriet to see them as more than friends.

---

    Daphne sat on her bed, turning the Slytherin part of the crest over and over in her hands, trying to calm her racing thoughts. This was clearly a huge measure of trust, she was effectively holding a quarter of Harriet’s life in her hands. Did that trust mean something more, though? No, she’d also given pieces to Neville, Hermione, and McGonagall. But maybe it did within the context of them both knowing Daphne liked Harriet romantically? But Harriet was usually so direct! Then again, she could be much shyer about romance. She didn’t have anything to go off of there. Ugh! Feelings were complicated! 

    “Daph, turn off your Lumos, it’s almost midnight!” came Tracey’s tired voice from the next bed over. Daphne blushed and did as her cousin asked. There’d be plenty of time to think about things tomorrow.

---

    Severus Snape sighed as the werewolf brought a pack of third years into the staff room to see the boggart there. He was about to leave and move his grading to his office when it occurred to him that Harriet was part of the group. This would be worth his time. 

    Except it wasn’t. He had to sit through all the silly fears the children had, since the wolf seemed to be saving Harriet for last. The only thing that was actually an appropriate fear was when Bellatrix appeared before the Longbottom boy. Even he let out a snort of laughter as boggart-Bellatrix was forced into a stuffy floral overcoat and a horrendous hat that Severus recognized as belonging to Augusta Longbottom. Finally, there was no one left except Potter.

    And then the wolf dismissed the bloody class! Severus would have stormed out if Harriet hadn’t had that look he saw when she stayed back after class to ask him about some obscure reaction between two ingredients he’d never thought of combining. So instead he pretended to mark essays and listened closely, knowing if Harriet did not want him to hear the conversation she would use privacy spells.

    “Professor, why didn’t you let me fight the boggart?” she asked in the sweet, innocent voice Snape was proud to say he had never fallen for.

    “Ah, yes, well, I thought it might cause a bit of a panic if You-Know-Who showed up in the Hogwarts staff room.” the wolf replied sheepishly.

    “We all knew it was a boggart, Professor. Nobody freaked out and thought it was real when it turned into Bellatrix for Neville. And I’m not actually sure what my boggart would be, which is why I was wondering if you’d let me face it now?”

    “Very well. I’ll take your place if you are unable to handle it.” the werewolf said, and he opened the cabinet with the boggart. The form it took thoroughly confused Snape. He was pretty sure that was Lord Gaunt, but he was sitting limply on some sort of stone throne, and without his eyes.

    “Ah. I see.” Harriet said simply, before pointing her wand at the boggart. With a spell, Lord Gaunt’s empty eye sockets were filled with googly eyes, his stone throne became a weather beaten rocking chair, and it was all topped with a paper crown from Burger King.

    “Miss Potter… what, exactly, was that?” asked the werewolf.

    “That was Tom Riddle with the powers of James Wright as well as his own. If you don’t know what that’s terrifying, ask the Headmaster. Have a good afternoon, professors.”

---

    Remus Lupin was feeling very conflicted as he gave the password to the gargoyle and walked up the stairs to Dumbledore’s office. He was sure the Headmaster wanted to talk to him about Harriet, but he still didn’t know how much he should share.

    “Ah, Remus, thank you for coming. Lemon drop?” said Dumbledore as Lupin entered.

    “No thank you, Headmaster, I’m afraid I just ate.” Lupin said demurely.

    “Now Remus, I told you, we’re colleagues now, I’m not your headmaster anymore.” Dumbledore said with a gentle smile. “So, first of all, how are you settling in at Hogwarts as a teacher instead of a student?”

    “It’s… well, to be honest, it’s incredibly strange, for so many reasons. Not the least because so many of my colleagues were my instructors not too long ago. It still feels incredibly taboo to call Minerva by her first name.”

    “Yes, I remember feeling the same. Severus has been working here for a decade now and he still calls me Headmaster.” Albus said with a chuckle. “How are things between the two of you, by the way? I know your relationship has been… adversarial…”

    “We bullied him into becoming a Death Eater, don’t sugar coat it. Black nearly used me to kill him. I wish I’d seen what he’d become then… but as for Snape, our relationship is probably about as good as can be hoped for. He makes me proper wolfsbane, he doesn’t out me as a werewolf, and he doesn’t hex me in the staff room.”

    “That’s a start, I suppose. I hope in time the two of you can move past your childhood rivalry and be the start of a new generation of Hogwarts staff.” Dumbledore said. Remus blinked in surprise.

    “Headmaster, I’m the DADA professor. I know I’m not gonna last more than one year. All I’m hoping is that I only get outed as a werewolf rather than dying mysteriously or harming a student.”

    “I know there have been some extreme coincidences, Remus, but there is no curse on the Defense position.” Dumbledore said.

    “Don’t insult my intelligence. We both know the curse is real, even if you can’t admit it to protect your school.”

    “All I will say is I can understand why people would believe that particular rumor. Now, I was wondering, how have things been going with young Harriet?”

    “Quite well, actually. She and her friends actually found my compartment and sat with me on the Hogwarts Express.” Remus said, deciding to omit the identities of those friends and the fact that she had used an unlicensed space-expansion charm.

    “I see. How did she react to the dementor incident?” Dumbledore asked, his voice hiding a hint of anger, though Remus knew it was not directed at him.

    “Surprisingly well. She was probably the most composed person there afterwards. She knew to give chocolate to everyone, and even knew what the Patronus Charm was. She’s also been doing very well in her first DADA classes.”

    “Hmm, yes, she’s always been a good student. I heard you had the third years face a boggart? May I inquire as to what form her boggart took?”

    Remus hesitated. What form a boggart took for you was incredibly personal, and it had occurred to him after the class with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs that he should probably have had the class wait outside and come in one at a time. In fact he had done this for the Ravenclaws and Slytherins, and he was glad he had, since many of their fears had been much more personal.

    “Remus?” Dumbledore prompted.

    “Right. Sorry. It was actually very strange. It was a man on a throne with his eyes gouged out. She said it was Tom Riddle with the powers of James Wright as well as his own, and that you would know what that means.”

    Dumbledore let out a weary sigh. “That would be a horrible thing indeed.” he said quietly, and lapsed into silence. 

    “Are you going to tell me who Tom Riddle and James Wright are?” Remus asked hesitantly.

    Dumbledore sighed again. “Tom Riddle is the birth name of Lord Voldemort. James Wright is one of Harriet’s guardians, I believe one of the more involved ones in her day to day life, and he has some method of knowing things he shouldn’t. It must be a great power indeed for Harriet’s greatest fear to be Voldemort with Wright’s powers. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to do some investigation into this. Although, if you could perhaps give me a memory of Harriet’s encounter, that would be tremendously helpful.”

    Remus reluctantly placed his wand to his temple and pulled out a silvery thread of memory. He hoped he wasn’t betraying Harriet’s trust.

Chapter Text

    “Hey Harriet, I was wondering something. How closely related are the End and Death itself?” Hermione asked.

    Harriet shrugged. “It’s a blind spot for the Eye, or at least Mister Wright and I aren’t close enough to the Eye to be able to Know that. And I’m not close enough with the End to know that way, either. But I suspect there is some link. After all, Reapers are avatars. And it’s not impossible for aspects of Fear to have connections outside of Fear; Desolation avatars often have an elemental aspect to them, as does the Vast and occasionally the Buried. The Hunt has links to all sorts of predators, magical, fey, and mundane.” Harriet explained.

    “Really? That’s interesting!” said Hermione. “Are you in the mood to field a few more questions? I’ve got a couple more I’ve been sitting on for a while.”

    “Sure, why not?” said Harriet, continuing to absent-mindedly fill in her Runes homework that was laughably easy with the Eye translating.

    “Okay, so my two big questions are, have there been any multi-fear avatars before you, and if not, why? And you explained how you can unintentionally become an avatar by gaining a Fear’s attention, but how does one do that intentionally?”

    Harriet narrowed her eyes. “I trust you are asking these questions out of an academic curiosity and not an intention to act on any of the information?”

    “Oh, yes, of course!” Hermione said quickly. “Being a witch is quite enough for me.”

    “Right. So, I am the first multi-fear avatar, and basically the reason for that is partly personality issues, partly a numbers game, and partly a metaphysical balancing act.. The personality issues come from the avatars as well as the Fears themselves. They can be quite… competitive. None of them want to share power. And avatars tend to either be arrogant and chafing under one master, let alone two or fourteen, or else slavishly devoted to one master and unwilling to corrupt themselves with the power of another. The numbers issue is simply statistics. Proper avatars are incredibly rare; what are the odds that a Fear picks a new avatar who just so happens to already be an avatar of something else? And why would they when there are other options they don’t have competition for influencing? And the metaphysical balancing act… well, it’s hard to be an avatar of one Fear, since it causes a lot of strain, on the body and the soul. I haven’t completely run the arithmancy on this, but being an avatar of two Fears would probably have disastrous effects on the body or the soul, possibly both. You’d be torn apart, mentally and physically. Which is why I’m an avatar of all fourteen, they all balance each other.”

    “It’s not possible for two to counterbalance? Like, the Dark and the Eye, or the Buried and the Vast?” Hermione asked.

    “No, opposing combinations like that are the last thing you’d want. It would be like a seesaw with boulders on both ends. So yeah, sometimes one Fear will try to poach another’s avatar, but never double up.”

    “And the intentional attention drawing?” Hermione prompted.

    “Rituals. Mister Wright successfully completed one, though it didn’t have the outcome he was expecting. So did Mister Rayner and Mister Amherst. Mister Lukas and Grandpa Fairchild didn’t, but the Lonely and the Vast gave them more powers anyway to be able to keep up with Rayner and Wright; they’re all older than they seem.”

    “Even Fairchild? If he’s the one I’m thinking of, he looks like if he gets any older his bones will turn to dust.” Hermione said amusedly.

    “Even him. Age works differently for avatars, sometimes. The Old Man Club- that’s Misters Wright, Rayner, Amherst, and Fairchild- were all born around the time of the American Revolution. And Mister Lukas is an honorary member of the Old Man Club, since being an avatar runs in the family for the Lukases, and he acts more curmudgeonly than any of the other Old Men.”

    “Wow… how does that work? The immortality thing?” Hermione asked.

    “It’s different for each of them. Mister Wright and Mister Rayner are more or less body hoppers, they jump ship when their current vessel is becoming too unhealthy and they find someone younger. Grandpa Fairchild says his body is more or less in stasis- he doesn’t need to eat, his hair never grows, and his medical conditions never worsen. Mister Amherst is the most complicated. Of all my guardians, I think he’s probably the closest with his patron, which makes sense since the Corruption seems to like motifs of love and family. I haven’t asked him about it, but based on what the others have said, his body is in a constant state of decay, but also in a constant state of regeneration, and there are, as best as anyone can guess, backups of his mind stored in the Corruption, that can replace him if- or when- his current brain is destroyed. Effectively, he’s even worse at staying dead than I am.”

    “Fascinating!” breathed Hermione.

    “Yes, as long as you stick to the abstract. The realities of the situation are often much less pleasant.”

    “What realities?” Hermione asked.

    “There’s more to being an avatar than being scarily powerful.” Harriet said ominously. “Now the Eye says you have a potions essay you haven’t done yet.” she said with a wink.

    “Did the Eye say that or did Parvati?” Hermione grumbled.

    “Gossip is part of the Eye.” Harriet said primly, before giggling at the exasperated look on Hermione’s face.

---

    “Good evening, Sybill.” Albus said as he climbed the ladder into the top of the North Tower.

    “Ah, Albus, I had a feeling I would be seeing you this week! Come in, come in. Tea?” the Divination Professor replied.

    “No thank you, I’m afraid I’m just dropping in on business.” Albus said. “I’ll try to be quick.” he pulled out his wand and pointed it at one of the cushioned stools cluttering the classroom, and it turned into a perfect replica of the stone throne he had seen in Remus’s memory of Harriet’s boggart. “Have you ever seen a throne like this in any of your visions?”

    “No…” said Trelawney, and Albus sighed. It had been a long shot anyways. “But I can tell it is an object of great power. Power not unlike my own. But different, distinctly so. Great power, yes… I wonder what I could do with such power?”

    “What power would that be?” Albus asked, trying to hide his interest.

    Trelawney looked at him sharply. “This is the Watcher’s Throne, Albus, seat of the All-Seeing King. Even now, he watches us…” she whispered, and Albus got the sense her words were not entirely her own, though she did not sound as if she was giving a prophecy.

    “This All-Seeing King… he wouldn’t happen to be named James Wright, would he?”

    “He- names- the crown- I-” Trelawney began panting, and Albus noted blood dripping from her nose with alarm before she toppled forwards and he cast a cushioning charm. He glared up at the ceiling and hoped he was looking at Wright, or whoever the King was, and not looking like an idiot. 

    He sighed as he levitated Trelawney towards the infirmary. He once again cursed that damn prophecy; he’d have scrapped the Divination program ages ago if he hadn’t needed a justification for keeping Trelawney safe. Well, if Trelawney couldn’t help him- and he hadn’t really expected her to have anything useful to say- then he’d just have to go to the more reliable options. Albeit the more exotic and more expensive ones.

---

    “Hey Harriet?” Daphne asked, pausing for her crush to set up privacy spells. “What’s going to happen to us after you fake your death?”

    “What do you mean?” Harriet asked, and if Daphne didn’t know better, she’d say the avatar sounded nervous.

    “Well, you obviously won’t be able to keep attending Hogwarts, or be seen in public, and I was wondering what that would mean for your friendships with us? We definitely wouldn’t see each other as much…”

    Harriet instinctively took her friend’s hand, causing Daphne to blush (and therefore miss that Harriet was blushing a little too). “I will stay friends with all of you even if we’re not able to see each other often, or even at all. I’m planning this very carefully. I will have a way to maintain communication with everybody, and I’m even considering bringing your parents in on things, though I probably won’t. I should also note that the fake-my-own-death plan isn’t set in stone, I may just use a different form for when fighting is necessary. Just keep in mind that you will always be a high priority for me, okay?”

    Daphne nodded and for a moment it seemed that Harriet wanted to move in closer, but then thought better of it. There was an awkward pause before Daphne said “So, you’ve got battle forms, huh? Are they all flesh shaping?”

    “Flesh shaping is an aspect for most of them, that and illusions or transfiguration. Right now I’ve only really got three, but I’ve got a fourth planned, I just need to finish some lessons with Mister Amherst this summer. The ones I have mastered so far I call Anubis, Lady Runespoor, and one I was gonna call Gabriel until I remembered there’s that Spiral nutter called Gabriel in Russia so now I just call it The Herald, since it’s for messages and making statements.”

    “Okay, I’ve heard of Anubis, and I know what a Runespoor is, but I have no clue what The Herald is supposed to be.” Daphne said with a chuckle. 

    “It’s from muggle religion if you want to try and figure it out. It’s also almost entirely illusion based. Other than that you’ll just have to wait and see.” Harriet said with a smirk.

    “Jerk.” Daphne said with a fond smile, and she gave Harriet a quick hug before leaving, while trying desperately to ignore the part of her that said she should have given Harriet a peck on the cheek as well.

---

    “My lord, I have information you may be interested in.” Lucius Malfoy sweated as he stared at the ground, not daring to look up to meet his master’s eyes. Lord Voldemort looked much less frightful than he did at the end of the last war, but he still demanded nothing less than complete subservience and submissiveness.

    “Speak.” the Dark Lord said imperiously.

    Lucius gulped as his voice sent a shiver down his spine. “One of my contacts in the International Portkey Office said that Dumbledore has arranged for a private portkey to Chile on Halloween weekend.”

    “Chile…” mused the Dark Lord. “Interesting. Though I think the more important thing is that he’ll be out of the country.” he paused. “Our pet lion hasn’t been to Diagon Alley in a dozen years, has he? Perhaps you’d like to hold the leash this time when he strikes out.”

    Lucius hid a sigh. He’d always found the more brutal aspects of being a Death Eater to be beneath him, and best left for people like his sister in law who actually enjoyed it. But he didn’t get to where he was by being stupid. “It would be an honor, my lord.”

    Better he force Black to get his hands dirty than do it himself.

---

    Dear Harriet

    I have recently come across two pieces of alarming intelligence I thought you should be made aware of. 

    First is that Dumbledore is actively seeking the Panopticon. Lupin showed him his memory of your boggart, and he is now trying to find the throne it depicted. This is worrying for multiple reasons. First, it seems that the man’s age may be catching up with him if the thing he focused on in your boggart is the throne rather than the man sitting on it. I am not a proven enemy to him; Riddle is. Regardless, he is seeking out seers to try and find the Panopticon for him. According to the Eye, it would require a significant amount of power, the only people who would have a chance of locating it would be a certain coven of Mayan witches, Grindelwald himself, or the Fey. It’s likely he will eventually visit the Mayans, or at least it’s far more likely he’ll turn to them than resort to releasing Grindelwald or bargaining with the Fey.

    However, he is currently planning to consult a Seer he knows in Santiago this weekend. Which leads to the second problem: Riddle has learned that the Goat will be out of the country and plans on unleashing Sirius on Diagon Alley. He’ll be under Lucius Malfoy’s control instead of Bellatrix’s, but it will still be a bloodbath without intervention.

    I have two plans to stop this. If you can get out of the castle without raising suspicions, go to Diagon and loiter in the shadows until Sirius shows up, then capture or kill him as Anubis. If you can’t get out of the school, I can tip off the DMLE and/or the Goblin Nation.

    Please reply ASAP. This is obviously a time sensitive matter.

    -James Wright

    “Fuck.” growled Harriet, earning her a concerned look from Neville. “I’m fine Nev. Just got some bad news.”

    “Anything I can do to help?” he asked, putting down his transfiguration textbook.

    Harriet smiled at him. “No, not right now anyways. I might need you this weekend though.” She grabbed a piece of parchment.

    I’ll flame out and try to capture, friends will cover for me. Let me know as soon as they decide on a time, feel free to force it into my head. But maybe tip off the goblins just in case.

    Love you

    -H.P.

---

    “You’re going to do what ?” Daphne squawked after Harriet explained her plan to the students assembled in the South Tower.

    “Go to Diagon Alley and capture Sirius Black. It’s not that complicated.” Harriet said neutrally.

    “Harriet, that’s a simple goal that you’re attempting to achieve in a very complicated and dangerous way.” Blaise said dubiously. 

    “There’s nothing overly complicated about it! I Burn into Diagon, take a breather to get over the aftershocks of Burning, capture him, apparate him to Potter Manor, then Burn back.”

    “What do you mean, the aftershocks of flaming?” Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing.

    “It’s very painful, since the Desolation isn’t nice fire. But I’ll be fine. I’m mostly good after five minutes, and I’m giving myself half an hour.” Harriet said sheepishly.

    “Harriet, how painful are we talking here?” Daphne asked, now glaring at her as much as Hermione.

    “...If a Cruciatus Curse is a continual stream from an Aguamenti, then Burning is having a cauldron full of water dumped on you. But I can handle it.” Harriet said stoically. 

    :Are you bloody kidding me? You can’t just do that to yourself, Harriet! Not when there’s any other option!” exclaimed Neville. 

    “Neville, I realize it’s not ideal, but our backup plan is the goblins, who will almost certainly kill Sirius. Believe me, if I had a way to apparate out of the castle or if I had a portkey, I would use that. But I don’t, so we’re going with what we’ve got, okay?” Harriet said, reassuringly placing a hand on Neville’s shoulder, and Daphne narrowed her eyes when the boy blushed. Maybe it was nothing, but…

    Daphne stepped forwards and pulled Harriet into a hug. “I’ll trust you on this, but you better come back in one piece, okay?” she whispered in Harriet’s ear.

    “Of course.” said Harriet, not letting go of Daphne. “Anyways, I know Hermione and Luna can cast Aguamenti, so be ready with that. I should be able to minimize the damage from my first Burn, but I can’t guarantee I’ll have as tight a grip on the second in one day. I should be able to walk back to my dorm afterwords and sleep it off, but if you guys need to take me to Madam Pomfrey, tell her I got cursed exploring the South Tower.” Daphne felt Harriet squeeze her tighter and draw a breath in like she was going to say something, but she paused, and suddenly pulled herself out of the hug. “You guys are amazing.” she said, looking into Daphne’s eyes before disappearing in a burst of flame.

---

    “Imperio!”

    Lucius smiled as Sirius Black went slack jawed in his cell in Riddle Manor (though Lucius did not know that was what the building was called). He put the enchanted key in the lock and ordered Sirius to walk out of his cell. He did, and Lucius nervously handed the former auror his wand as Sirius mutely followed him to the parlor. Lucius sat down in a well-cushioned armchair, closed his eyes, and immersed himself in his control of Sirius Black. He apparated his puppet into the middle of Diagon Alley, wand drawn. He immediately sent a generous blasting curse towards Fortescu’s- the fool running the shop was well known for being friendly to mudbloods. He half-heartedly made Sirius cackle as he shot a piercing hex at a witch dressed in muggle clothes. Really, Bella was much more suited for the theatrics of terrorism.

    Then Lucius, through Sirius, heard a growl, and Sirius whirled towards the source of the sound, as much based on his canine instincts and auror training as it was on Lucius’s orders. Lucius was shocked and confused. 

    Walking out of the nameless alley between two stores was, if he didn’t know any better, an Egyptian god. He was around nine feet tall, shirtless, with the head of a jackal and sharp looking black claws. He hesitated a moment, and Anubis shot a stunner with a gesture. Sirius ducked out of the way just in the nick of time. 

    “Fight the monster.” Lucius ordered, and loosened his grip to allow Sirius a bit more autonomy in fighting so that he could focus on observing. The creature was astounding. It’s speed was truly terrifying for something so bulky, in fact the only time it got hit was when dodging would have resulted in the spell hitting one of the bystanders currently screaming and running for cover. It shrugged off a blasting curse to the chest with little more than a chuff of frustration, and a piercing hex following it bounced off the creature’s bicep to tear a whole in an advertisement in the front window of Flourish and Blotts. It grabbed a table from in front of Fortescu’s and hurled it at Sirius. He easily blasted it out of the air.

    Only for Sirius and Lucius to simultaneously realize the table was just a distraction. There was a flash of red and Lucius felt Sirius’s consciousness fade to nothing. Lucius swore softly. The Dark Lord would not be pleased.

Chapter Text

    Sirius groaned as he awoke with a pounding headache, as he did after every time they used the Imperious Curse to make him go on a raid. He shuddered at the memories of his wand blowing apart men, women, and children. Damn Death Eaters. Damn Pettigrew. Damn Voldemort.

    He blinked his eyes open and was surprised to see a fairly regular looking ceiling, not the dripping stone of the dungeons at… wherever they kept him. In fact, whatever he was laying on was a lot comfier than the cold bench in the dungeons. He looked around and nearly fainted with shock. Not only was he not in the dungeons, he was laying in James’s room at Potter Manor. Everything was as it had been left when James moved out, save for the bedside table having been cleared, and on it instead was a plate piled high with breakfast, a note, and his wand. It was official, Sirius must have died and gone to heaven. He brightened at the thought of seeing everyone again. He could apologize to Prongs and Lily, and Prongslet, and all the others…

    He picked up his wand and gave it a few flicks. It felt so good to have it back in hand and not be under the Imperious Curse. He conjured a fork, took a bite out of a sausage, and groaned in delight at the taste of something that wasn’t stale bread in Azkaban or stale bread in the Death Eaters’ dungeons. Yeah, he was definitely in heaven. He just hoped Prongs and Lily wouldn’t be too mad at him for fucking it up this badly. He wolfed down more delicious food, not even taking the time to register what it was, only that it wasn’t bread and it didn’t make him worry about chipping a tooth. Then he turned and opened the note. Probably the Hogwarts acceptance letter for the dead, he thought with a chuckle. 

    Hey Sirius

    Welcome back to Potter Manor! I’m sure it’s good to be back. I’m also sure you have a lot of questions. I’ll be by ASAP, since it’s Sunday. Feel free to stretch your legs, but please don’t leave unless like, Death Eaters break through the wards to take you back because they miss your charming wit. You are, unfortunately, highly sought after by Amelia Bones, but in her capacity as the head of the DMLE rather than in her capacity as a single woman. 

    Anyways, like I said, sit tight, enjoy some real food, I’ll be there to talk soon, hopefully with Professor Moony.

    -Harriet Potter (Yes I’m alive, (and yes, so are you) it’s a long story)

    Sirius stared at the note, dumbfounded. Then it all clicked. He wasn’t dead, he was just insane! Probably so insane he couldn’t even be Imperiused properly, if he was lucky. He wondered if he lost it before or after he fought an Egyptian god. Probably before. Really, Amy was the Director of the DMLE? Moony was a professor? Harriet was alive? And apparently knew she was innocent, if his wand was any evidence.

    Well, the note said she was coming. He was probably hallucinating so hard right now, but it was a win-win in his eyes. If he was hallucinating, his mind was creating some damn good grub, and if he wasn’t… well, then he was free! Free from the dementors and free from the Death Eaters!

    He continued eating, and occasionally doing random transfigurations or charms just for the joy of feeling his magic being used for something other than senseless violence. Then there was a knock on the door.

    “Come in!” he called out, maintaining a grip on his wand just in case. In walked a girl who he had never seen before, but who he instinctively knew must be Harriet Potter. She had her father’s untameable black hair, albeit in a wild ponytail with a few stray locks framing her face. And her eyes were that same piercing green as Lily’s, though this girl’s were colder, more analytical. She was wearing a Hogwarts uniform, with the yellow accents of a Hufflepuff, but without the outer cloak, revealing a wand strapped to the inside of her forearm. “You’re… are you real? You can’t be real.” he said softly.

    “Oh, I’m real all right!” Harriet said with a sly smile. “Now, Professor Lupin is waiting in the parlor, but he doesn’t believe you’re innocent yet. I’ve convinced him not to start flinging AKs the moment he sees you, but I think it would be best if you enter without your wand drawn.” Harriet said, handing Sirius a new wand holster.

    “Yeah… alright…” Sirius said dazedly. “Merlin, I can’t believe- I thought you were dead! I was the first person there. You were just- gone! And Lily, and James… they-”

    “I know, Padfoot.” Harriet said gently. “Let’s not think about that right now, okay?”

    Sirius nodded and allowed Harriet to usher him into the parlor. Merlin, she was alive! And then he walked into the parlor, and was cringing under the weight of Moony’s glare. “Heyyyyy, Moony, long time no-” Sirius flinched and definitely didn’t try to hide behind Harriet when Moony whipped his wand towards him.

    “Don’t. Don’t try that, Black.” Moony (Remus? Lupin?) spat. He was angrier than when he had told Hailey Edgecomb about Moony’s crush on her (he honestly had thought she was into him too), angrier than Sirius had dared Snivellus to go to the Shrieking Shack on a full moon (he had no excuse there, that was probably the single worst thing he had ever done).

    “Okay. Okay. I’ll just sit down and explain everything, okay? I swear I’m not what you think I am.” Sirius said, not taking his eyes off his friend’s wand.

    “I’ve got veritaserum, if you’re willing, Sirius.” Harriet said. Sirius nodded eagerly; if anyone had ever just used that on him in the first place…

    “How do I know that’s the real thing?” Moony said suspiciously.

    “Sirius, what’s something you normally wouldn’t tell Professor Lupin about?” Harriet said.

    “Seventh year, Amy told me she wanted us to have a threesome with you, and I wanted to too, but I was sure you’d have said no.” Sirius heard himself say emotionlessly, and felt himself blush, and saw that Moony did too.

    “Oh! I- wow. I was not- okay. So then let’s start at the beginning. Did you betray James and Lily?” Moony said.

    “No. I was never the secret keeper. The real secret keeper was Peter, but we let everyone think it was me to keep the pressure off of him.”

    “Oh Merlin… Did you kill Peter and those muggles?”

    “No, although I wish I had gotten Peter. He accused me before cutting his finger off, cursing some muggle gas thingy, and escaping as a rat.”

    “Then why did you break out of Azkaban with the Death Eaters?”

    “The Death Eaters didn’t break themselves out, they were freed by Voldemort, who is now going by Lord Gaunt. He brought me too, since it would have cast doubt on my guilt if I’d been left behind, especially since apparently there were rumors going around that I was innocent.”

    “And the attacks on muggles?” Moony asked faintly.

    “I was under the Imperious Curse, Cousin Bella the first two times, and Lucius when I was caught.” Sirius said tonelessly, before grunting as Moony leapt towards him and hugged him. 

    “I’m so glad it wasn’t you. I’m so, so glad. But then why did you tell Dumbledore to plead guilty?” Moony said, and Sirius froze before the potion made him begin speaking.

    “I never plead guilty. Dumbledore came and said he’d be my legal representative and that he’d try and get me out, but he said Crouch was out for blood and he was being outmaneuvered.”

    “What? That’s- but Dumbledore- he can’t- no, veritaserum. Why would Dumbledore- oh Merlin, Dumbledore framed you! But why?”

    “I don’t know, but if I had to guess, I would say it had to do with me killing Death Eaters. He told me to stop after I killed the younger Dolohov, and I told him no, since the DMLE was completely unreliable at that point. He told me I was going dark, and I laughed and said these were dark times.”

    “Alright, you can give him the antidote now, Harriet.” Moony said with a chuckle. Harriet gave him a small vial and Sirius soon felt the need to be truthful clear away. Meanwhile, Remus turned to Harriet. “Padfoot isn’t the only one with some explaining to do.” he said. “Why’d Anubis bring him to Potter Manor of all places?”

    Harriet sighed. “Guess we’ll work our way backwards. I am Anubis.” she said, before turning her head into that of a jackal’s. Sirius could feel his jaw dropping, and a glance at Moony said he wasn’t doing much better.

    “You- how? Are you an animagus too? And you were doing wandless stunners that knocked me out for a good eighteen hours! I don’t even know if Dumbledore could do that!” Sirius said once he got over his initial shock.

    Harriet turned her head back to normal. “I’ll tell you everything, but first I need you to swear you won’t tell anyone about this unless I give you permission to, understood?”

    “I promise, Marauder’s honor.” Sirius said immediately.

    “Marauder’s honor.” echoed Moony.

    “Right, so here’s everything in a rather large nutshell. Magic isn’t the only force that supersedes the normal laws of nature, Fear does as well, and the laws of Souls and Love beat all three. Voldemort fucked around with his soul to make himself significantly harder to kill, destabilizing his soul in the process. My birth mother combined magic and Love to place a protection on me that reflected the Killing Curse back at Voldemort when he tried to kill me because of a prophecy. But because his soul was so mutilated a piece popped off and stuck itself in my head, which was the last straw for certain forces, which decided to get avatars involved. Avatars are basically Fear wizards. Anyway, I was raised by a bunch of avatars, who made me an avatar myself. Except instead of being an avatar of one specific kind of fear, the fear of heights for example, I’m an avatar of Fear in general. I can turn into Anubis using flesh-shaping, which is basically self-transfiguration except with Fear instead of magic. Oh also I can draw magical power from ley lines in other realities.”

    “...Okay maybe I am hallucinating after all.” Sirius said.

    “Yeah. Yeah! That actually makes a lot more sense! Snape giving me a bad batch of wolfsbane is much more plausible than fear wizards and Dumbledore locking you up. Okay. Okay, I’m tripping balls right now. I should probably just sit here and wait it out, right?” Moony said.

    “Wolfsbane? What the hell is that? And is this Snape you’re talking about our Snape? Snivellus Snape?” Sirius said with a chuckle.

    “Wolfsbane is a potion that was invented a few years after you got locked up, it lets werewolves stay in control of themselves when they transform. And yeah, you’ll never believe this Pads, but Snape and I actually work together at Hogwarts! He’s the Potions Professor, and I’m the sucker who got roped into teaching DADA this year!” 

    “That’s insane. That’s actually insane. He hates people, why the hell would he be teaching kids? And why would Dumbledore let him? He’s a Death Eater, for Merlin’s sake! And why did you take the DADA job? You know it’s cursed Moony. Why would you fuck around with a curse like that? Do you remember what happened to Professor McErlane?”

    “To be fair, McErlane was an asshole and he wouldn’t have died if he wasn’t such a trigger happy twat.” Moony said with a laugh. “And I have no idea why Snape is teaching, actually. Dumbledore said he was a spy the whole time, and that kept him out of Azkaban, but he definitely doesn’t like teaching. And he does a rather shitty job of it if what I’ve heard is even half true.”

    “He’s teaching because Professor Dumbledore wants to keep Professor Snape under his thumb.” Harriet interjected. “The Headmaster doesn’t have the time or knowledge for more complex and obscure potions, so he trapped him here. And having a potions master on-site means that he doesn’t need to order potions for the infirmary, which he likes because he doesn’t need to answer for things like why a school needs so much skele-grow.”

    “Do we keep an unusual amount of skele-grow on hand?” Moony asked curiously.

    “According to Professor McGonagall, yes. I haven’t had too many problems, but apparently the Goat believes in a very hands-off approach to bullying, and students needing bones regrown is much more common than it should be.” Harriet said bitterly.

    “You know, the more I think about his choices, the less I like Dumbledore.” Moony said darkly.

    “Agreed.” Sirius said. “...We never had people needing to regrow bones, did we?”

    Harriet’s eyes seemed to glow for a moment and she said “Three times, two of which were Professor Snape. And that’s just you, Sirius.” she said with a frown.

    “Yeah… yeah, that checks out.” Sirius admitted with a sigh. “I’m not really a great role model. Honestly, I have no idea what James was thinking making me your godfather. But okay, assuming this isn’t a hallucination or a dream or whatever, what do we do going forwards?”

    “Good question. You, Sirius, are going to stay here. I’m going to try and get in touch with Director Bones and get a feel for her mindset, but the unfortunate truth is that your name will probably never be cleared, at least not until Riddle and the Headmaster are dead or disgraced. The Death Eaters and the Headmaster both have too much to lose from you being a free man. I’ll try and convince Professor Snape to brew you some polyjuice so you don’t get too cooped up, and some of my guardians will probably come around to visit, but a lot of your time is going to be by yourself, and I’m hoping you’ll use that time to train. You were a great auror, and I could use someone like that in the war to come.”

    “Wait wait wait, hold on.” Sirius interrupted. “First, who’s Riddle and why doesn’t he want my name cleared? Second, how the hell are you going to get Snivellus to brew me polyjuice? Third, what war to come?”

    “Tom Marvelo Riddle is Voldemort’s true name. Professor Snape will brew polyjuice for you if I ask because he trusts me to deal with Riddle more than he trusts the Headmaster, which is really sad if you think about it. Third, you know Riddle is back. He’s moving in the shadows right now, but he’ll make his play eventually. I’m hoping that this war is quick and decisive, but we’ll see.”

    “Alright, what do I do then?” asked Moony.

    “Right now Professor, you just keep doing what you’re doing. You’re the best DADA professor in at least as long as I’ve been at Hogwarts, and with a war coming DADA is something people will need to know. However, I’m not risking you to the DADA curse, so you need to firmly decide not to renew your contract next year. In fact,” Harriet said, eyes glowing again “if you swore an oath on your magic not to renew your contract or ever teach DADA at Hogwarts again after your current contract expires, I’m pretty sure that would satisfy the curse. Other than that, draw away from Dumbledore. He’ll suspect something if you suddenly despise him, but start looking for reasons to pull away from him. That hands off approach to bullying is a great place to start. Also, maybe try to make amends with Professor Snape. He knows everything I’ve told you today and more.”

    “Really? You’re allied with Snivellus?” Sirius asked incredulously.

    “Yes, I am, and I’d really prefer if you’d stop calling him that.” Harriet said coldly.

    “Fine, fine. Who else knows?” Sirius asked.

    “My guardians, they’re all avatars or familiar with them. Mister Wright will probably swing by later today to explain things more thoroughly for you, Sirius. Other than them, professors Snape and McGonagall, and my classmates Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Blaise Zabini.”

    “Zabini, eh?” Sirius said with a grin. “Must be Lucrezia’s kid. She’s a looker, but ice cold. They say I’m the only one to sleep with her and live to tell the tale.”

    “Sirius, do try to act appropriately around your goddaughter.” Moony huffed.

    “Sorry Moony, you know I was always a serious horndog.”

    “And with that lovely comment, I think I need to get back to Hogwarts.” Harriet said with an eyeroll. “Try not to burn the place down. But do enjoy your freedom, Sirius.”

---

    Albus Dumbledore was worried. Worried to the degree that he was pacing the Headmaster’s Office, something he hadn’t done since Tom died. Or perhaps only disappeared; if Harriet lived it was possible he did too. But that wasn’t his main problem right now, he thought with a glare at the newspaper on his desk. He’d already been working on dealing with Wright, but now this Anubis thing had Black. That was a third faction, a fourth if Wright wasn’t lying about working against Tom. Things were getting complicated.

    He conjured a chalkboard with a flick of the Elder Wand. Time to map things out. At one end of the board was himself, represented by a star. At the other end was Tom, represented by the Dark Mark. Now the other players. He conjured a chalk Eye on the board, at the top and center. Wright. Another flick of the wand had a dozen little chalk question marks appearing around him. Wright was too much of a mystery. But a dotted line connected him to the star and the Dark Mark, since he was potentially an enemy of himself and Tom. Anubis was put at the bottom, represented by an ankh surrounded by question marks. Now for the secondary players.

    Sirius was represented by the crest of the House of Black. He was linked to Anubis by a chain that was far too intricately drawn to have been done with a regular piece of chalk. Sirius was also linked to the escaped Death Eaters (who were represented by three small skulls) by a similarly intricate chain, but with a link in the middle conspicuously shattered. A green line linked Tom and the Death Eaters, while a red one linked Sirius to Tom and Albus.

    For a moment Albus wondered if he should be worried that he and Tom had mutual enemies, but he put the thought aside. Sirius had admitted to walking a dark path, and after years in Azkaban, Albus thought it was a toss up as to whether Sirius was actually guilty of the crimes he appeared to have committed after he was freed. And that was another thing, how did the Death Eaters get free? No, focus on visualizing the playing field and making a plan.

    Harriet appeared on the board represented by the crest of the House of Potter. Green lines connected her to Wright and himself, while red lines connected her to Tom and the Death Eaters, and she was linked to Sirius with a yellow line. Lucius was represented by the crest of the House of Malfoy. Green lines towards Tom and the Death Eaters, red towards himself and Sirius. The DMLE seal had red lines towards Tom, the Death Eaters, and Sirius, a yellow line towards Lucius, and a green line towards himself. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, the green line turned yellow. Dear Amelia had her heart in the right place, but she was too independent, loyal to her perceived notions of justice, rather than to himself. And by himself, he of course meant the greater good. 

    Albus stepped back to survey his work. What should be his priorities? Tom was almost certainly not dead, but he didn’t seem to be alive, either. The escaped Death Eaters were nothing without him. The larger problem was the unknowns. He had next to nothing on Wright and his ilk, and even less on Anubis. 

    How to get information, then. Philippe had been a bust; apparently it would take a scryer even more skilled than him to find the throne. He had recommended a few people, but none of them were easy to gain an audience with, even for the head of the ICW. He’d either have to go to Chennai or Tikal, neither of which was ideal. He supposed he’d try the Mayans first, he didn’t speak Mayan but they would probably at least appreciate him knowing Spanish. Except he probably wouldn’t be able to get another couple days outside the country until winter break. 

There was, of course, the more local source for information on Anubis, and Wright might give away something about himself in the process. It wasn’t likely, but it was possible, and he had nothing to lose by trying to talk.

He heard a whooshing from the fireplace and immediately vanished the chalkboard as he turned to see who had floo-called him. Probably Fudge panicking about Anubis. “Dumbledore, you wanted to speak with me?” said the smug head of James Wright in his fireplace.

---

    “Whoah, is it just me or does Dumbledore look pissed ?” asked Susan as the Hufflepuffs walked into lunch. Harriet snorted as she suddenly Knew of the hour the Headmaster had spent talking to Mister Wright, in which Mister Wright had said many words that told the Goat nothing at all. Dumbledore had a silver tongue, for sure, but Mister Wright had a good hundred years of experience on him.

---

    “Director Bones, Director Solomon, thank you for joining me.” said Fudge. Amelia hid a sigh. An emergency meeting with the Minister, his Senior Undersecretary, and the Chief Unspeakable was not how she wanted to spend her Sunday. She already had mountains of paperwork after an attack on Diagon Alley was foiled by an unknown force, couldn’t he just wait for her report?

    “Get her out of here.” Solomon said, glaring at Umbridge, and Amelia barely let the corner of her mouth twitch. Oh, to be the Chief Unspeakable and not have to care what anybody said about you.

    “Director Solomon, I-”

    “Go, Dolores. I will fill you in on the pertinent details afterwards.” Fudge interrupted, to Amelia’s moderate surprise. Either Umbridge didn’t have as firm a grasp on him as was rumored or Fudge was that scared of Solomon.

    “...Very well Minister.” said Umbridge, looking like she had deep throated a lemon.

    “Right, now what do you two know about this Anubis thing, and why did I have to learn about it from the Daily bloody Prophet?” Fudge hissed.

    “I sent you a memo about it, Cornelius. Three, in fact.” Amelia said, trying her best to keep an even tone.

    “I- oh. I see. They must have gotten lost.” Fudge said embarrassedly. “But as long as you’re here, what do you know?”

    Amelia sighed. The lengths that man would go to in order to avoid reading things. Everyone joked that he kept Umbridge around because she slept with him, but Amelia thought it was more likely that Umbridge was willing to read things aloud for him. It would work out quite well, actually, Umbridge loved the sound of her own voice.

    “We have no leads on Anubis. He walked out, had what was apparently a laughably one-sided duel with Black, captured him, and apparated away with him.” Amelia said. 

    “You don’t even know what he is?” exclaimed Fudge angrily.

    “We’re aurors, not researchers.” Amelia shot back.