Chapter Three
Chapter Three
The morning heat coalesced in the small space beneath the stairs. Its sole occupant barely twitched from her fetal position as the heat set in, and beads of sweat popped from within the loose sweater she wore, which didn't help the heat, but then again, it was the only clean piece of clothing she presently had. Her back smarted in reminder that this position was in no way suitable for her body, but Harriet couldn't care less. The skin pulled in an awful way where Uncle Vernon's belt buckle had struck home, leaving painful welts in its wake. It didn't help that her body itched everywhere, being that she never had enough time for a proper bath in the brief moments that she was allowed out of her cupboard. Her body screamed at her for reprieve, but she did not grant herself that mercy, for her punishment had been well-deserved, of that she was sure of.
'How long has it been?' She thought. 'A few days? Weeks? I can't tell anymore.'
She was such a failure. Her aunt had actually trusted her enough to take her out with her family for the day, and she had just managed, somehow, to mess it up.
'I deserve this.'
'It was all my fault. I keep causing them unnecessary problems by being here.'
She curled her body up even tighter as her dour thoughts pressed down on her in the darkness. She could hear the telltale skitter of spider legs on the boards that encased her form and her misery, so thin, yet so strong that it was able to hide her disgusting form from the rest of her grossly disappointed relatives, a punishment she thought was not enough for someone like her. 'A whelp' and ' a bitch'.
'But that's not the right word, is it?' Her inner voice whispered to her like a passing breeze. A wry smile curled on her lips as the right term, one that she hadn't been referred as in a while, made its way to the forefront of her mind: 'A freak.'
She immediately started to feel calm at the mention of her old moniker. Yes. That was all she was, wasn't she? A freak. A blight on the life that the Dursleys had carved and meticulously sculpted to perfection for themselves, and she was the sole imperfection that marred the beautiful feature of that masterpiece, a mere blemish. The thought wrapped around her mind in such certainty that there was no use denying that fact, as she'd known this all along. Her smile turned grim as this thought weighed heavily on her mind, and a single though made itself known.
'.…Maybe I should just die.'
The thought had been so unexpected, so out of the ordinary, even for her, that it startled a giggle out of her, a small one at first, but which turned into a full-blown belly laughter. With tears in her eyes from laughing, she finally rolled over and laid on her back, stretching it in the process. She barely concealed a yelp as she did so. Her laughter died down and the space was plunged into silence once more. Although the thought of suicide had startled her at first, Harriet now wondered if it was such an outrageous thought after all.
"I… I wonder if Aunt Petunia will miss me." She intoned hesitantly. Harriet hadn't intended to say this, but now that she did, she couldn't help but wonder, 'Would she, really?'
Doubt wormed its way into her head at this, threatening to make its home in place of her common sense, and not for the first time. She shook her head vigorously, trying to dislodge the invasive thoughts.
'But of course she does!' She thought of all the times her family had shown her that love, each in there own way, and tried to ground herself in it. 'But of course she does,...right? And yet...why do I keep making her unhappy by being such a freak? Maybe...they'll be happy if I'm just... gone. Somewhere far away... Yes, that would be better,...if only it were possible.'
But of course, there was no way for her mind to be put to rest as her inner monologue plagued her conscious state of mind. She tried to dislodge the quelling thoughts as she held her head in her hands, but they stubbornly persisted, giving her no piece of mind.
Harriet felt like she was drowning as she laid back down on her bed, motionless, and a victim of her own mind. She had no reason to ask anyone for help, as being the freak she was, she would just burden them with her useless thoughts. They spiraled endlessly in her mind like a persistent swarm of bees, making her sink further down into her despair.
She distantly heard the telltale sound of her aunt's footsteps above her, having memorized it so long ago. As the footsteps stopped right at her door, she heard keys jingling as her door was audibly being unlocked, and she heard the familiar voice call out.
"Get up, Lily."
But she couldn't muster the strength to move at the moment. This had been going on since the zoo incident, making her feel like all the strength was being sapped from her. Shame and self disappointment pervaded her mind, making her unable to face her relatives in the brief moments she was allowed out of her cupboard to wash up, as she even had her scarce meals in there. She was usually up immediately when Aunt Petunia called for her, but today, she just couldn't muster the energy to do so on command.
'Come on , Harriet. You can do it. Just get up and do what she says. She'll be happier for it.' But no matter how hard she tried, her ruminations kept her firmly in place, in a mental debate. And from the harsh pounding on the door, Aunt Petunia was not having it.
"I said get up, you silly girl. You don't want me to come in there, do you?"
Now that, was something she didn't want to happen at all. Even as her mind spiraled out of her control, that was the only thing that registered right away. She brought her hands to her cheeks as twin smacks echoed within the tiny space. Her eyes stung as the pain stained her cheeks red. It had hurt, oh goodness it had hurt, but this had helped her get ahold of herself somewhat, as she then sat bolt upright. Pain blossomed on her back and cheeks as she ignored them in favour of reaching for her glasses.
Harriet carefully opened the door slightly, with trepidation, as she hesitantly glanced up at her aunt's face. She immediately looked down at her own feet however, as she saw that there was not even the faintest trace of a smile on her aunt's face. Silence reigned between them as Aunt Petunia glared down at the messy head of tangled red hair, and Harriet, who seemed to have recently discovered her own feet, starring at them in a way akin to philosophical interest. If the silence was uncomfortable before, it was downright unbearable now as her aunt continued to glare down at her. This probably lasted for about a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime before Harriet realized that she was forgetting to say something. Her eyes widened as she finally stuttered out a greeting.
"G-Good morning, Aunt Petunia." Her eyes were still cast downward, so she couldn't see her aunt's reaction. If possible, the quiet between them became even more pronounced after this as the both still stood there. Harriet, still grasping the door handle, clenched it tighter as sweat coated her palms. The door was her sole comfort from her aunt's withering gaze, as she held it partly open in front of her. After some time, she finally plucked up her courage to look her aunt in the face.
A calculating look greeted her as Aunt Petunia silently observed her, taking in everything from her loose slacks to her sweat-drenched sweater. Her eyes finally locked on Harriet's as rove over her face. She briefly glanced at the red-stained cheeks before holding Harriet's hesitant gaze. And then her lips stretched out in a smile.
"Good morning, Lily. Why didn't you answer when I first called out for you?"
Harriet's mind ground to a halt as her brain was suddenly bombarded with excuses. She went through them in quick succession and found that none of them would work on Aunt Petunia, so she instead opted to stay silent.
"Not answering? You're not misbehaving again, are you, dear? Do you need a reminder not to? Again?"
Harriet could have sworn that her heart stopped dead in that instant. Her back pinched sharply at the memory of what said 'reminder' was, as a bone-deep terror overcame her.
She barely uttered a "No, ma'am," while her aunt still regarded her in silent contemplation. A beat passed. Then two, then who knows how long they both stood there, before her aunt deigned to move from her spot.
With her back to Harriet, Aunt Petunia ordered: "Go make yourself presentable. You'll start dining with us again today. So do hurry up." She didn't turn back to check if Harriet was heeding her orders or not, and just stalked of.
It took Harriet a few seconds to come to terms with what she'd just heard, before she dashed off to the bathroom. She rushed to take her clothes off, knowing that it wouldn't do to keep Aunt Petunia waiting. She was just walking toward the shower when she just barely saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She gulped down her anxiety and approached the mirror hesitantly. She steeled herself for what she was about to see and stepped in full view of the mirror, and what she saw made her do a double take.
To put it simply, she was a mess.
Her red hair, normally unruly but sometimes brushed to perfection by her aunt, was a tangled mess that looked like it should just be sheared off. What part of it wasn't a tangled heap, was plastered to the sides of her face and neck. No wonder her body itched something awful. The eyes behind her patched-up glasses held almost no life in them, the dull green irises a stark contrast to the dark ring that encircled her eyelids. The matted hair on the sides of her face revealed just enough of her cheeks to see that they were still red from being smacked earlier. She half-spun to take a closer look at her back, and saw that the belt wounds were now pink scars that marred its surface. Harriet now clearly saw what her aunt did when she was silently observing her: she looked like a broken doll that had outlived her use to her owner, and was now discarded.
She tore her gaze from the one-sided staring match she was having with the mirror and moved on to the shower. The blast of cold water that cascaded on her made her let out a relieved sigh. She didn't dare to take too long in there though, going through the routine as hurriedly as she could. It was only after her shower that she realized that she didn't have anything to wear. Harriet glanced at her discarded clothes, the state of them making her wrinkle her nose in distaste.
'Aunt Petunia would have a fit if I wore that at the table. I don't want to disappoint her again, but what should I wear now?'
She clutched her towel and tiptoed to her room, anxiety in full swing. She only just remembered that she hadn't had the time to do her laundry, but she hoped that she could at least find something if she rooted around a bit. Harriet walked into the cupboard, fully intent on doing just that, only to find some clean clothes laid out for her on her bed. She had no doubt who had done just that, but it had come as a surprise none the less. She held them up to her face and breathed in the fragrance deeply, one that she knew so well.
'How could I have doubted her love for me, thinking that I won't be missed if I died? Of course she loves me.'
She felt so grateful at that moment that her earlier thoughts came back, and brought with them nothing but shame on her part. She decided not to ponder on them though, and quickly donned the outfit.
Harriet made up her mind, then and there, to never disappoint her relatives again, and stepped out to join them for breakfast.
...
Harriet sat quietly through breakfast and listened to her relatives as the chattered around her. Uncle Vernon ignored her for the most part, whilst Dudley occasionally jabbed her with his Smeltings stick, and Aunt Petunia frequently shot her sparing glances to make sure that she was behaving. It was nice to be included in their daily routine again after her weeks of probation.
It was peaceful.
Their breakfast was interrupted by the arrival of the mail, and Harriet rushed off with a single prompt from Uncle Vernon to collect it. She picked them off of the floor to sort them out in some semblance of order to give to her uncle, but what she saw stopped her dead in her tracks long enough to read what was written on the front of the yellow envelope:
Miss H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Harriet stared blankly at the thick envelope, the parchment crinkled in her grasp as she as she unconsciously gripped it tighter. She thoughts spun in circles as she tried to figure out who was writing to her. She flipped the envelope and stared at the crest neatly pressed into the wax, sealing its contents within. Her small hand reached for the seal.
The wax started to crumble between her thumb and forefinger, slipping under her nails. She had nearly gotten it off when, at the last moment, she hesitated, wondering if it was all right to open it without showing it to her aunt first. She just kept staring at it. She must have taken too long because the next thing she knew, a shadow had fallen over her, and an all too familiar voice spoke dangerously close to her ear.
"What have you got there, Lily? Something you want to show me, perhaps?"
Harriet froze as puffs of air ghosted the back of her neck. She could smell the faint fragrance of the perfume that her aunt usually wore, which had a distinct floral scent to it. Goosebumps broke out on the back of her neck as she slightly turned her head to lock eyes with her. In hindsight, Harriet probably should have heeded her instincts and kept her gaze steadily facing the front door, because if she had, her heart might have been spared the resulting palpitations.
Icy blue irises locked on her green ones immediately, the stare making her breath hitch in a pseudo-hiccup. As Harriet continued to gaze into their frozen depths, she saw something there, which made her feel like all the life was being drained from her body. In that moment, Aunt Petunia looked like a predator that had just cornered its prey, and had no intention of it escaping from its clutches. Aunt Petunia arched a delicate brow and intoned:
"Well?"
Harriet swallowed thickly in terror and replied. Or at least, she tried to, and her voice just petered off in to a barely comprehensible jumble before she fell silent once more. Aunt Petunia frowned deeply as she grabbed Harriet by the shoulder and made her face her properly.
"What was that, Lily?"
Harriet swallowed thickly and started over.
"Th-There was a letter for me in the mail, ma'am. I was just about to show it to you." She stretched out her hand toward her aunt in the small space between them.
If possible, Aunt Petunia's frown deepened a notch, probably wondering who was writing to her niece. She glanced down at the envelope, at where the crest was, and Harriet, to this day, had never seen anyone go pale that fast. It actually scared her more than she'd like to admit. Aunt Petunia reached a trembling hand out and gently took it from her.
Voice trembling, she replied, "Thank you for showing this to me, Lily."
She straighten and spun to make her way back to the dining room, leaving Harriet starring after her. She stopped just shy of re-entering the dining room, and looked back at Harriet.
"You've made me proud today, Lily. I hope you remember that."
Aunt Petunia didn't look back at her after that so she didn't see the look of confused happiness lighting up her niece's face. With a skip in her step, Harriet gladly followed her.
...
It had been one heck of a day.
Harriet laid in her new bedroom that night, contemplating the events that had resulted in her getting it. Even Aunt Petunia had said she was proud of her. Dudley hadn't been happy with the new arrangement, of course, but he had settled it with his parents.
She rolled over on the softest bed she'd ever laid on in her life and tried to go to sleep, but she couldn't help but think of that letter earlier that day.
'Why was Aunt Petunia proud that I had given her that envelope? Was it that important?'
'...Who was even writing to me in the first place?'
Her aunt and uncle had told her later that it was a prank.
'But was it really, though? It had my cupboard on it and everything.'
Once again, her questions were left unanswered as she laid quietly in bed. Getting nowhere, she rolled over and decided to sleep.
She didn't need to know more. As her relatives said, it was probably a prank, nothing would come of it anyway. so she would trust them and let it go.
That night, she fell asleep to dreams of flying motorcycles and unopened letters bearing her name.
...
As usual, Harriet should have known that she was never going to have a peaceful life, and that the peace she sought could be undone by just a simple thing. And this time it began with her unopened mail.
The next day started out normally as usual, but then everything went downhill with the arrival of three more letters. Harriet needed no one to tell her that this was abnormal, she could glean that much from the panic-stricken look on her aunt's and uncle's faces. She frowned as she saw Uncle Vernon go about nailing the mail slot with more boards than were necessary. The day after that, it was even worse. The letters had been folded and hidden in the eggs that Aunt Petunia had received from the kitchen window, and some of it were neatly squeezed in the frames of the front and back doors, not to mention all the windows.
Now, Harriet had been steadfast in minding her own business and not ask about the "prank" letters, but even she can't help but be curious about what was written in them now.
'Who wants to speak to me so badly?' Was the question that plagued her mind on a daily basis now. Even suspicious was how Uncle Vernon stayed home from work now to burn up those letters. She had timidly suggested that they report to the authorities, but her aunt's pallid complexion had become even more so, and even Uncle Vernon had turned an alarming shade of purple. She didn't mention it again for fear of upsetting them further. Dudley kept giving her weird looks and constantly asking who was writing to her, but even he received no answer from his parents.
Harriet's anxiety grew worse each day as she constantly wondered if she had made a mistake by not reading the first letter. Her stomach churned as she laid awake at night, going over possible scenarios about what was written on the letters. She was tired of feeling like this. This had to stop.
She whispered to herself , "I need to know."
'Surely, Aunt Petunia would understand, right? Since even they wouldn't have to deal with them anymore.'
Harriet nodded firmly, having convinced herself of that, and made her plan. It would be Sunday the next day, so no mail would arrive then. So if there's another one, it would arrive on Monday, that is when she planned on stealing one.
...
Dawn broke over the quiet street of Privet Drive the next day, waking Harriet with it's warm rays. She blinked sleepily as she remembered her plan the previous night and muttered to herself.
"Just one day left before this is all over."
She felt strangely excited rather than apprehensive about this. She must not have hidden her excitement too well, either, because her aunt narrowed her eyes at her over breakfast.
'Oops.'
She was spared from further scrutiny when Uncle Vernon went on a tandem about their being no mails on Sundays, which saddened her a bit. She was about to take a spoonful of her breakfast when her uncle abruptly cut himself off. Or rather something cut half of his moustache off.
That startled the entire table into a stunned silence. Harriet's eyes widened as she saw the culprit on the floor. The letter laid innocently there, as if it hadn't subjected Uncle Vernon to partial decapitation. Granted it was half of his moustache, but still...
'If only I could just grab that one without them noticing.' It was a day early to enact her plan, but she wasn't going to let this opportunity pass. What if this happened to be the last letter? She couldn't risk something like that.
Harriet glanced at Aunt Petunia to see that her face had turned pale and was trying to comfort Uncle Vernon.
'Good. They're distracted.'
She realized too late that she had forgotten to check for someone else when she saw Dudley similarly inching his way toward the letter. Not that he was stealthiest person around, but he seemed to be making way more progress than Harriet was at the moment.
Aunt Petunia noticed him just in time and dove for the letter before Dudley could. Harriet silently swore under her breath, one that she had learned from Uncle Vernon. She slumped in her seat in defeat as she sullenly ate the rest of her breakfast. It was as Dudley wrestled his mother for it, with Uncle Vernon trying to separate them that they all heard it.
A low rumble was coming from the fireplace. They all stilled in anticipation, not knowing what to do about it.
It was then that all hell broke loose.
Dozens upon dozens of letters streamed from the fireplace, covering every inch of the living room and even the dining room was not spared.
Aunt Petunia let out an ungodly shriek as Dudley cowered behind her, and Uncle Vernon tried to hurl them out of the ensuing chaos. Harriet knew that if there was any time to act, it was now.
She cast a hasty glance at the Dursleys and saw that they were still lost in the confusion as the letters pelted them from all sides. Harriet leapt into action and dove under the table, sneakily swiped one of the thick envelopes and tucked it tightly into her clothes. And just in time, too, as Uncle Vernon barreled into her vision and hurled her and Dudley out into the corridor, yelling for them to go pack their things, because they will be leaving in five minutes. She beat a hasty retreat to her new bedroom and did as he said not wanting to test him any further.
...
Harriet laid curled on the dusty floor of the weather-beaten shack that Uncle Vernon had found. Her back pulled in an uncomfortable manner as she tried to find the softest patch of floor to lay on. She was exhausted from the long drive they had all embarked on, but she couldn't let sleep claim her yet. The stench of seaweed persisted in the shack, and a storm had raged unendingly since that afternoon, not to mention the waves beating against the rocks the shack perched crookedly on. She listened closely once again to the snores of her relatives, to really make sure that they're asleep. Deep snores answered her unspoken question from the other room where her aunt and uncle slept, and Dudley grunted something about his favourite show, sound asleep on the collapsed sofa next to her.
It had slipped her mind earlier amidst the chaos that was that day, but her eleventh birthday would be in the next fifteen minutes. She smiled a little as she thought this and shifted into a comfortable position. Her smile faded a bit when the letter she had pilfered weighed heavily against her chest. Heart pounding, she reached for it from within her shirt. Her hand brushed against the thick bundle again.
'I'm really going to do this, aren't I? I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia.'
Hand visibly trembling, she drew it out, the letter clutched tightly in her grasp. She moved closer to the flimsy light the fire cast and held the wax seal. Lightning flashed from the storm raging outside, startling her enough to break the seal in half. She held her breath in suspense as the bed creaked from the next room. Sweat beaded on her face as she strained her ears to listen for any other sound through the storm, but the next room had fallen silent once more.
Harriet reached into the envelope and withdrew a folded letter, the slide of parchment against parchment seemed to echo too loudly in the ramshackle shack. She stopped again and glanced at Dudley, who was still sound asleep, and down at his watch.
'Only ten minutes left now.'
She turned back to the letter at hand, and took a deep breath. 'Ok, no going back now', she thought, and flipped it open.
Of all the things Harriet had been expecting, this didn't even cross her mind in the slightest. She read the letter numerous times and just couldn't make sense of it. Her mind went blank and all she could say was:
"Who the bloody hell named a school Hogwarts?"
She couldn't believe it. She had risked her aunt's ire for a bloody prank letter. 'They were only trying to protect me, and this is how I repaid them for all their efforts.' Shame overcame her as her relatives' actions finally made sense.
What happened next could only be described as the climax of a very bad horror film, because she wasn't expecting anyone to answer her question, with another question, no less.
"What have you done, Lily?" Came a breathy voice behind her.
Oh no. Oh no. She hadn't heard her get behind her at all. The storm had done a great job masking the sound of her footsteps. She had taken too long reading the bloody letter!
The only thing she could do at this point was to own up to her misdemeanor and apologize to Aunt Petunia. It hadn't brought her any joy to hurt her relatives, so she only hoped that the punishment she would be served isn't severe. She climbed to her feet and turned to face her aunt, apology at the tip of her tongue, when the sight of her aunt made her choke.
There are were only a handful of times Harriet had seen Aunt Petunia angry at her, but those had ebbed away as quickly as they had come. This time though, merely calling her angry would be an understatement because at this moment, she was absolutely livid.
Aunt Petunia was as pale as a sheet and her lips were pulled back into a snarl. She shook with a barely contained rage, as she glared hatefully at her niece. Her hands had been balled into fists, and Harriet could just make out the crimson fluid that welled from them as her long nails dug into her palms. Her eyes trailed after it as it collided with the dusty floor. Her eyes leapt back to her aunt's, just in time to watch as she sprung for her.
Harriet couldn't move, the action had startled to that extent. All she could do was watch as a bloody palm came toward her startled face. She stared at the wounds on it and could only think:
'That's going to leave a scar.'
She closed her eyes as she waited for the inevitable. And...
Boom!
A hard knock had rattled the door, making the rickety shack groan. Dudley had been startled awake and Aunt Petunia ran to comfort, him leaving Harriet dazed. Uncle Vernon barreled toward them, carrying a rifle. Something banged on the door again, this time shaking the entire house down to its foundation. She scrambled into a nook and slumped there, pulling her knees to her chest as she stared at the door in fear.
There was a pause, and then another resounding bang came before the door eventually caved and fell inside. There was silence as everyone waited to see what would happen next. Uncle Vernon kept his trembling rifle aimed resolutely at the opening. Harriet couldn't help but think that, that wouldn't do much against something that could break down a door. She should just take what she can at this point, because if the thing didn't kill her, her aunt definitely will.
Of all the things any of them had expected to walk through the door - a bear being the most outrageous one - none of them could imagine that a shaggy, giant of a man would emerge through the opening left by the wrecked door.
...
Harriet stretched out on her bed at Privet Drive the next evening and thought about how rowdy the day had been.
The half-giant, Hagrid, had basically given her a rundown of most things so far. She didn't think that she was special, though, as he had insisted. Finding out that she had magic was a delight, but something else was bothering her at the moment, had been since the previous evening.
Her relatives were avoiding her.
It hurt, how much everything had changed in a day. She felt guilty whenever they crossed paths and especially with Aunt Petunia, who hadn't even spared her another glance after her outburst about Harriet's parents last night.
But a small part of her was happy. She had gotten her wish to go away.
'Aunt Petunia wouldn't have to worry about me misbehaving anymore. At least, not for a long time. She could be happy now. I won't be around to cause more problems for her.'
She smiled bitterly. Her relatives were punishing her for reading the letter. She deserved that.
'But it still hurts.'
...
Harriet sat on a soft seat as the Hogwarts Express rumbled along the countryside. The compartment's other occupant chattered on and she tried her best to reply, but her heart wasn't in it.
Ronald "Ron" Weasley, he had said his name was, and Harriet had half-heartedly introduced herself in turn. If he had noticed her lackluster reply, he didn't show it, but rather took that opportunity to ramble on about her story. It wasn't that the boy was unlikeable, quite the opposite really, but he didn't win any points with her when he complained about something she wished she had, had in the last month.
Expressive love from her family.
Even when they had dropped her off at the station, they had all been distant and had driven off immediately after unloading her things. She had seen Ron being coddled by his mother, and he had told her to leave him alone.
Something ugly had curled in her stomach at his ungrateful display, at the affection she so desperately wished had been directed at her instead.
Draco Malfoy had entered their car earlier. He had been surprised when he found out who she was. They had met and become fast friends at Madam Malkin's in Diagon Alley. He had reminded her so much of Dudley that she hadn't resisted the urge to befriend him, since the real one was avoiding her. She had been unable to properly introduce herself then, but she was glad that she did so now.
Ron had started regarding her cautiously since then, not that Harriet actually cared. She already had one friend, and that was enough for her.
...
They crowded in front of the Sorting Hat as they were called one by one to be Sorted into their Houses. Draco had been called and had made his way to Slytherin with a pep in his step. It wasn't Harriet's turn yet, so she opted to look around the cavernous hall.
A sea of unfamiliar faces greeted her sight as she swept her gaze around. There were more students here than she realized and they were all staring at the First Years. She quickly turned back to the front when she locked eyes with more people than she was comfortable with. She decided to study her teachers instead, and that was when she saw him, right at the end of the High Table.
He gazed at his empty plate in a way that seemed like perpetual boredom. He seemed offended by the rowdy cheers that arose from the Gryffindor table, and lifted his head to glare at them collectively. It had the desired effect on them, though, as they quieted down somewhat. His gaze rove the hall until it locked with hers. A shocked expression overcame his features as he whispered something she couldn't hear. What looked like regret passed across his visage as he collected himself and smirked at her, causing
Harriet's heart to thump wildly where she had unconsciously pressed her hand against it.
'What is this feeling?'
It didn't feel like anything she had ever felt before. Her cheeks grew warm as she contemplated the odd but pleasant feeling. She had listen to Draco talk about him earlier, and he had said that he was the best teacher Hogwarts had to offer, and also the head of House Slytherin.
"Severus Snape." She whispered the name like a sinner waiting for salvation. It tasted sweetly on her tongue, and she licked her lips to savour it.
Harriet distantly heard her name being called, and she walked automatically and sat on the stool. She didn't hear the whispers that had accompanied her on her way to the Sorting Hat, nor had she noticed the stares she garnered. All she could think about was those dark eyes that had met her own, and it made a blush rise on her cheeks.
She faintly listened as the Hat prattled on about her traits and the Houses that best suited her. But it was all in vain, for she had already decided. It asked her which one would she like to be in.
Black eyes and a dangerous smirk on thin lips came to the forefront of her vision.
"Slytherin."