Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
A blaze of verdant flames marked Harriet’s arrival, an eerie stillness greeting her in the wake of her appearance. She blinked blearily, the sudden transition between both locations making her reel for a second. She blinked several more times as her eyes adjusted to the darkness beyond and, having gotten her bearings, she tentatively stepped out of the grate.
The reaction was immediate, the blaze from the fireplace morphing into a roaring fire that had no doubt been present before Harriet’s arrival. She spun swiftly on her heels at the change, letting out a small squeak in alarm at the sudden increase in temperature. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized that it wasn’t an attack and, sighing at her own foolishness, she turned around to take in the rest of the room.
Harriet shuffled slowly around the room, hoping to not make any noise that could disturb the occupants of the dorms above and give away the fact that a student was out of bed. Her footsteps were muffled by the carpet, the soft fwump fwump the impacts made being the only other noise in the room apart from the gentle crackle of the fire. Her breath caught in her throat as her feet suddenly met solid ground, the sound of the stone floor echoing loudly, at least to her own ears.
She stilled as she listened for any other sound, her eyes darting every which way in search of a prefect. The shadows around the room seemed to leap in time with her racing heart, the ones on the floor seeming to crawl toward her like dark talons. She nearly jumped a foot in the air when the clock chimed, the enchanted melody indicating it was three o’clock in the morning.
Harriet closed her eyes and bit her lip so hard that it bled, her hands clenching so tightly that her nails were biting into her skin. She shook her head as she calmed her breathing, and Uncle Vernon’s words came to her unbidden again for the second time that night, like a safe haven in a stormy sea.
“Enough with your foolish imagination, girl!”
Harriet let out a slow breath as she allowed the words to wash over her, calming her frayed nerves that had long since been shot that night. She slowly opened her eyes, repeating her uncle’s words like a mantra, and letting them guide her troubled mind.
The common room was exactly how it had always been, from the tasteful furniture right down to the dreary but familiar glow of the lake, which spilled into the room. The murky luminance seemed to chase away the earlier darkness that tried to grasp at her, the sight making her sag into one of the sofas in relief. The clock ticked ever away in the background, with each tick now serving to calm her rushing blood into a steady stream of compliance.
Exhaustion seeped into every muscle in her body, as if it originated from the marrow in her very bones. She leaned forward, her head in her hands, as the events of the night replayed in her head. She hadn’t noticed that she was crying until her tears fell onto the carpet below.
The night had gone so wrong in such a short time, as if in warning of their foolish endeavour. Her daring idiocy had led her down a path of delusions, their grandeur drowning out every last bit of her common sense. Not to mention the fact that she had only led her friends on a wild goose chase.
‘Oh goodness, my friends!’
Harriet’s head snapped up in alarm as she peered around the room again, hoping to find any sign of Draco’s return. Her feet carried her to the entrance of the common room before she could stop herself, the bare wall looming in front of her. Her heart thudded wildly, the anticipation of embarking on another adventure dogging her every step. It was as she made to utter the password that a thought occurred to her, one that she should have had initially:
‘How in the world am I going to find him?’
Harriet suddenly recalled that she had given him her Cloak, which he had of course used to escape to safety. Not to mention, the fact that he could be anywhere in the massive castle was another cause for concern. She bit her tongue as she thought, her mind going in circles at the chaotic trains of thought she had, each one wilder than the next. She finally made up her mind to go find him, opening her mouth to mutter the password when a face flashed in her mind.
Filch’s visage emerged from the depths of her memory, his face twisted with so much malice that it was etched into every line in his face. The vision was so startling, so complete that it caused Harriet to instinctively stumble backwards, her foot catching on to a step behind her and landing solidly on her behind. Even now, in his absence, Harriet could still see his eyes sparking with so much hatred that it made her gasp in terror.
Her heart thundered as she fought to focus on her breathing, repeating her uncle’s words for who knew how many times that night, finally calming down just enough for rationality to take the place of fear, for however long it might last.
Right, she couldn’t exactly go traipsing around the castle now, could she? Not after she had just narrowly escaped expulsion, (or worse, her mind whispered) and had fortunately encountered a saving grace, now within the confines of her common room. Her thoughts briefly flashed to Severus, how he had rescued her from Filch’s clutches, up to how he had tended to her injuries.
‘Maybe he’d found Draco and helped him get to the dormitories?’
Harriet lifted her head as she thought, now rational enough to think that, even if Severus hadn’t found Draco and brought him there, Draco himself would have made it to their dorms, because he was resourceful like that.
Harriet got up and dusted herself off, thinking about how she couldn’t disappoint Severus again that night by directly disobeying his orders and going off to wander around the castle again.
“It’s not as if the night had been totally unrewarding, besides…” She said to herself as she ascended the stairs.
She had found Severus’ chambers, and though she couldn’t remember exactly where they were, she decided to start searching that very Saturday night. She quietly changed into her pajamas, carefully so as not to wake her dorm mates. She tucked herself in and drew the curtains for privacy, her thoughts settling as her exhaustion finally won.
‘…I didn’t leave empty-handed after all.’
Harriet’s fingers found the thin slip of ribbon that she had wound around her wrist, which had fortunately been hidden within the sleeve of the shirt she had worn that night. Her fingers found thin strands of dark hair attached to the material, feeling them with reverence.
She tucked the wrist as close to her body as she could and slept, dreaming of dark knights in glittering armour.
…
Harriet felt as if she had barely slept before the drone of voices awoke her. The sounds from beyond her curtains wafted in through the screen, bouncing around in her skull before she finally cracked open an eye and let out an exhausted groan. She grabbed at her pillow and placed it over her head, a splitting headache making itself known at the slightest shift she made. She pressed the pillow more firmly against her ears as she willed the noise to just. Go. Away.
Her grip relaxed as sweet sweet silence met her plea, making her sigh in contentment. It was as she was drifting off that a loud gasp and shriek came right next to her head, beyond her curtains. She bolted upright in an instant, her blurry eyes moving wildly in the enclosed space. Her heart raced as her flight instincts kicked in and, for a few seconds before her eyes adjusted, she thought that she was back home, in her cupboard at number four, Privet Drive.
The girlish giggles that came from around her made that thought grind to a sudden halt, the sound serving as a swift reminder that she was far away from home. She felt behind her until her hand closed around her glasses, which she had felt too tired to place on her bedside table before she slept, and carefully put them on. Her eyes adjusted as she took in the space around her, the canopy around her bed swaying in time with the motions from beyond it.
Harriet forced her breathing to slow down, her hand over her chest as she felt her heart comply with her wishes. Her scrambled thoughts lined up into a semblance of order, the first thing that seemed to go right ever since she had woken up.
‘Ah, right. I don’t sleep in my cupboard anymore, do I?’
Harriet’s hands slayed out on her bed sheets, smoothing out the wrinkles she had made in her sleep as she finally managed to calm down. She yawned, her arms stretching out above her head as she relaxed, knowing that it was a Saturday. Hoping to sleep in, she collapsed back into bed, having taken off her glasses and already pulling the covers over her head.
But as usual for Harriet, something just had to go wrong.
“So did you hear?”
Harriet wriggled further into her blanket, hoping to drown out Pansy’s voice.
“Who hasn’t, really?”
Harriet groaned as she held her pillow over her head for the second time that morning, now trying to block out Millicent’s words. Knowing the two of them, Harriet thought that they were probably gossiping about some new thing or other in the Witch Weekly. She was successful, that is, until she heard something that made her blood run cold.
“- Made quite a racket I heard-”
Harriet froze and felt as if she had been punched in the gut. Her heart rate picked up and she felt as if air was coming into her lungs through thin slits.
“The portraits said the culprits were chased by Filch -”
Harriet didn’t think that she was even breathing anymore, her vision tunneling as she heard the last of the conversation.
“-Reckon it was the twins?”
“Not likely. Word has it there were three of them.”
Harriet had bolted upright before the thought to do so could even form properly, the blanket flying from her face as she did. She couldn’t lie there and listen anymore, her anxiety was spiking as the conversation got closer and closer to dangerous territory. Her bare feet landed solidly on the carpet, ripping open her curtains so dramatically that the conversation halted immediately.
Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode were sitting on Pansy’s bed, the latest copy of Witch Weekly lying forgotten in the latter’s lap. Some male celebrity was on the front page, his white teeth especially blinding in the black and white background. They were all staring at each other: Harriet, a frazzled mess that had just woken up; Pansy, with her hair still in rolls; and Millicent, with a rather thick cream on her face that Harriet had only seen Aunt Petunia wearing, although she doubted they were from the same brand.
Several beats passed as they all just stayed there, staring at each other, until a slow grin made its way across Pansy’s face, all white teeth about to spew venom and who knew what else about Harriet’s appearance. She didn’t stick around long enough to find out as she hurriedly dashed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind herself.
...
Harriet emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, sighing in relief at the sight of the empty dorm. She walked as fast as she could toward her trunk to collect her things, as she had forgotten the rest of her stuff before she had rushed off into the bathroom to hide (though she will never admit that to anyone, even herself). Still in her bathrobe, she rummaged around in her trunk, pulling out her things as she started to get dressed, but even as she did so, something kept niggling at the back of her mind, something that she knew that she shouldn’t be forgetting. It wasn’t until she was reaching to tie her hair up that she realised what was wrong with a sudden jolt.
Harriet had reached for her hairband where she usually kept it in the mornings before she got ready for the day, only to find her wrist horrifyingly bare of said accessory. Her blood ran cold as panic started to set in, the weight of it almost tangible enough to make her shoulders droop. She started to dig around in her trunk before the thought could fully register in her mind, her heartbeat a dissonant note in her ears. She reached the bottom of her trunk after what felt like ages, only to once again be met with disappointment.
A steady litany of no, no, no echoed in her brain as each step brought on misery, each search only agony, tearing through what remained of her fragile mental state. Having upturned her entire trunk, she moved to her bed, tearing away the curtains in her haste, only to stop dead in her tracks, her purpose momentarily forgotten.
The ribbon she had pilfered the previous night laid innocently on her pillow, the glossy sheen on its surface seeming to shine with an inner light. Her hand moved towards her other most prized possession, fingers wrapping around the item with reverence, as if it were a holy relic bestowed upon her by a forgotten god. She hadn’t quite taken the time to study and appreciate its beauty and fragility, as her mind had barely only given rise to disjointed thoughts the previous evening.
Her fingers danced over its surface, taking as much time as she needed to memorise the item by touch alone. She was oh so careful in her inspection, only allowing the pads of her fingers to map its delicate lustre. Her brows quirked into a light frown as her fingers met a raised portion of the fabric she hadn’t noticed before. She turned the ribbon over in her hands to inspect this new curiosity.
The letters ‘L. E’ were embroidered into the material in green and red, right at the very end of one side of it. Harriet gently trailed a finger over them, taking note of the silky threads in the elegant cursive design. She tapped her finger as she considered the letters, wondering if they were a logo of some design company or other. She sighed as she clambered to her feet, making up her mind that it didn’t actually matter, before she remembered her original goal.
Her long forgotten panic started to simmer as she considered where in the world she could’ve misplaced the precious gift her aunt had given her, looking at her scattered bed which had yielded no result. Her new possession drew her attention itself, its presence a calming balm as she heaved a deep breath to rally her thoughts to order.
Harriet made quick work of tidying up her things, her hair an annoyance as it kept getting into her face. She nodded in satisfaction as she put the finishing touches to her bed, causing more hair to fall on her face. She huffed in annoyance as she reached for her hairband out of habit, only to pull away and stare at the newfound sensation on her wrist.
A truly strange thought occurred to Harriet as she held the ribbon in her hands, twirling it between her fingers as she did:
‘Should I wear this instead?’
The wild thought had come unbidden to Harriet, so suddenly that it made her halt her movements. Another came only moments later, this one more wilder than the last.
‘…I wonder if Severus would like this better.’
A warm blush accompanied that train of thought, only to slip away into a dramatic pallor so quickly it might have made it in the Guinness World Record.
How in the world could she had forgotten so suddenly that she had taken - no, stolen - the ribbon from him?
Harriet slapped her cheeks harshly, the sound and sting of pain enough to snap her out of her ridiculous thoughts immediately, the whiplash making her thoughts ring clearer.
She didn’t even entertain the thought of tying the ribbon around her wrist as she flung her chest open, burying it into the piles of clothes the Malfoys had given her for Christmas. She honestly didn’t seem to be thinking too rationally that morning, maybe the fall from the staircase had scrambled her brain or something.
Harriet straightened up as she matched determinedly towards the staircase, ideas on damage control already forming in her mind.
‘But first, I need to go find Draco.’
...
Harriet’s determination lasted for all of two minutes before sputtering upon her reaching the bottom of the stairs.
The common room was eerily silent, the oppressive force of it a physical weight in the atmosphere. Stilted sunlight filtered into the room from the lake beyond, its shifting light casting green-tinted mirages across the entire room.
Harriet repressed a shiver as the memory of the previous night was brought on in sharp relief, gulping down her dread in favour of making her way toward the exit. She stopped just shy of the blank wall, barely suppressing a shudder as she was right back where she had almost ended up the previous evening. Time seemed to hold itself still as Harriet mentally prepared herself for the new battle she was about to face that morning.
Taking a deep breath, she mustered up her fledgling courage and muttered the password, stepping out into the corridor beyond.
...
Harriet made the short walk up the stairs uncertainly, glancing around the dark corridor as if expecting an attack at any moment. Her courage was fluctuating, dancing to the rhythm of the shadows that seemed one glimpse away from activating her fight or flight instincts.
She repeated her uncle’s words as she went, finding solace in the fact that she at least still had those as her guide. But that particular train of thought proved to be too dangerous to her already brittle mind, the thought of having lost her precious gift from her aunt plummeting her mood to unknown depths.
Her trip to the Great Hall had thankfully been uneventful, but Harriet hadn’t been grateful for that, as her own mind had been enough to conjure foul theories enough on its own.
Harriet arrived to the chatter of voices and the scrap of utensils on the golden plates, her hunger making itself known by announcing its presence in an embarrassing gurgle that had thankfully been drowned out by the din in the hall.
She spared a quick glance around and noted that Hermione was sitting next to the accident-prone boy,- Neville Longbottom, her mind supplied- chattering about something she couldn’t hear from where she was standing. Satisfied that the other girl was safe and sound, Harriet made her way towards the Slytherin table.
Harriet allowed a hopeful smile to bloom on her face as she laid her eyes on Draco, sitting between Crabbe and Goyle as usual, a space left in between them for her to take her seat by Draco’s side. She slid into her seat smoothly, badly startling Draco enough for him to yelp and jump.
“Oi! What are you - Harry? You’re really alive?!”
That drew several people’s attention enough for Draco to blush bashfully and quiet down, lowering his voice to continue their conversation.
“When did you get back?”
“Last night. I-” Her stomach gurgled again loudly, this time grabbing Draco’s attention, along with Crabbe and Goyle’s.
Harriet wordlessly began to pile her plate with all the food that had been left over from the others’ breakfast that morning, belatedly realising that she could have completely missed it when she noted that others were already leaving the hall for elsewhere.
She shoveled food into her mouth as quickly as she could manage, ignoring Draco’s sneer of disgust. This didn’t last long though, as something she overheard made her choke.
“-Heard Filch caught one of them-”
“Really? Who was-”
Harriet felt her appetite die as she heard that, her eyes widening at the realisation that her secret could be uncovered. Draco had now turned to stare at her, about to ask if that was true, but she couldn’t bear it anymore. The constant chatter, the gossips ranging from the wildest theories to the must likely stories all seemed to crash down around her.
She couldn’t think.
She couldn’t breathe.
Harriet stood up abruptly, the force from it enough for her push away her plate and knock over her goblet.
The table had plummeted into silence, several inquisitive eyes seeming to lock on to her, wanting to tear out her secrets and hang them out to dry in the open. She glanced down to meet Draco’s eyes, as if she had only now realised what she had just done, and his astonished expression met hers.
“Harry? Are-are you alright?”
Harriet glanced up as she saw that Hermione had made her way over to the Slytherin table, standing just shy of the invisible barrier that the House had erected to keep away her kind - to keep away someone like Hermione. Harriet met her gaze, the worry in them enough to make her tear her eyes away to look somewhere, anywhere else where she didn’t feel as if she was about to stand trial.
Harriet’s eyes finally landed on the High Table subconsciously, a habit which she had long since developed, and looked directly at him.
Severus sat at the High Table, looking as pristine as ever. The cool calm he exuded extended even to his eating habits, his fork and knife held delicately in his hands. He had glanced up at the commotion from the table below, quirking an eyebrow at the display from his own House table.
Their eyes met for a brief instance, and Harriet poured all the hope into her eyes for him to see, to make her feel better on this awful morning.
Instead of what she had expected, Severus merely looked away and continued his meal, completely ignoring the girl's silent plea.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she dashed out of the hall, ignoring the call of her friends behind her.
…
Harriet's feet carried her further away from the Great Hall, the scene she had left behind a painful wound in her chest. She finally burst out of the main entrance, barely walking ten feet away before the meagre hold she had had on her breakfast slipped, making her throw up what little she had tried to keep down. Her tears finally spilled from her eyes as she looked down at her own sick, her vision blurring as the tears filled her glasses, making her take them off furiously.
Her hand found purchase on the wall next to her, her nails digging into the cold stone. She struggled to catch her breath, each one choking on the other as her sanity slipped further out of her control.
The excursion had been meant to be a quiet one, where they were only supposed to find any clue as to the existence of the Stone in the castle, and be back in bed with no one even getting an inkling of their presence in the banned location.
‘But now..now…’
She was in trouble, probably facing expulsion if she was being honest. The one thing she could have done was to not be a burden on her relatives, and now, it was possible that the headmaster was writing her expulsion letter at that moment, ready to kick her out before the day’s end. And as for her friends…
She laughed humourlessly at the thought of them. They had been with her throughout the entire trip, parting ways at the most unfortunate moment, right when she had needed their help the most. And now, Severus was angry with her, no doubt disappointed that he had caught her out of bed, and yet all Harriet could think of was:
‘I should have gone alone.’
Bile filled her throat as she thought this, the traitorous thought settling itself firmly into her mind. And what’s even worse, she knew that she was right, and she hated herself for it.
‘If I had gone alone, I would’ve done everything I could, just like I had during the holidays. And now- right, yes. Perhaps I could still go by myself later tonight, but first I have to get my Cloak back from Draco, and then-’
“Oh my, we are in trouble. I do hope you intend on cleaning that up, Potter, Chosen One or not.”
Harriet went so still that an onlooker would have thought that she had been hit with a Freezing Charm. Her breath got stuck in her throat, her heart suddenly hammering into her ribcage like punches filled with malice. She went lightheaded so fast that she thought that she might pass out right then and there, and she could just feel the beginnings of a fainting spell crowd her consciousness as she heard the last voice she had been expecting that morning.
The man’s shadow overlapped with hers on the ground from where she could see, the sound of his voice like oil dripping into her ears. She heard his cat purr in satisfaction, the one she always made when she found a student misbehaving and having them caught by her master.
Harriet didn’t dare glance up at them even as a few seconds passed, the air growing more stifling the longer the silence stretched between them, expanding like a rubber band about to snap. She tried to look up at him, tried to at least apologise for her misdemeanour, but her body refused to obey her, her mind having gone completely blank.
They would have stayed there like that for hours, perhaps for eternity, had she not seen the shadow of his hand twitch ever so slightly, making her jerk and flinch into an upright position, the hiss of Mrs. Norris worming its way through the clog in her mind.
Argus Filch stood just off to her side, his jowls in a grotesque imitation of a smirk. His damned cat was on the ground next to him, the blasted feline spitting and hissing at her in vehemence, looking between the sick and Harriet’s face as if personally offended.
Filch leaned down and picked up Mrs. Norris, causing Harriet to grow even stiffer, which she hadn't even realised was possible. The man was saying something else to her, but Harriet couldn't hear anything through the blood rushing in her ears.
Harriet's vision tunneled dangerously, and Harriet only just realised that she was having a panic attack. Her gasps for desperate breath clawed at her throat as she tried to breathe, the pinpricks in her vision going dark, shutting down one by one to join the others. She never even noticed that she had fallen to her knees, although she could distantly feel someone touching her back. She couldn’t move away from their touch, and the realisation that it was only Filch there made everything worse.
Breathing proved to be too much for her as she fell forward, her sight having gone dark, only to feel the warm embrace to someone holding on to her.
Harriet didn’t have the strength to reopen her eyes anymore, the exhaustion from having barely slept, and the weight of her stress finally winning over in cater to her duress.
A cool breeze was the last thing she felt before succumbing to her exhaustion.
...
Harriet awoke later that night in an unfamiliar place, the crisp fabric beneath her thin and clinging to her skin. She heard a gasp just off to her side and, before she could even turn to register it, Hermione's voice caught her attention.
"Harry? Are you awake? Quick, Draco, go get Madam Pomfery!"
"Don’t order me around, Granger." But Harriet could hear his voice receding as he moved away, no doubt to do exactly that.
Harriet felt her glasses being gently placed over her eyes, and the room was suddenly much clearer. It was a large room, with endless rows of beds stretching out as far as she could see with the late afternoon light filtering in.
'...The hospital wing?'
Curiosity satisfied, Harriet turned to look at Hermione with a quizzical expression, hoping for some answer on this new development, only to stop just short of doing so.
Hermione was looking her over with red eyes, the swelling around them indicating that she had been crying for a while. Harriet was at a loss for words, her curiosity dying down only to be replaced with concern.
"What's wrong, Mione?" She asked as she reached out and took the girl's hand. Hermione sniffled she grabbed ahold of their joined hands, her grip unexpectedly tight enough for Harriet to sit up in concern.
"I-I thought you were-" Hermione's voice cut off as she was assailed with a fresh wave of tears, hiccuping as she tried to speak. Harriet quickly pulled her into a hug, stroking the girl's back just as she had all those months ago. Harriet held her as she cried, only pulling apart when Madam Pomfery arrived.
She pulled the screen around Harriet’s bed for privacy, hiding her from the view of her friends, and bustled about as she pulled potion after potion from the cabinet that Harriet hadn’t noticed earlier. The nurse’s wand weaved and danced as she wordlessly cast spell after spell, the colours from the enchantments mesmerising Harriet, making her think that she would one day be capable of such. What pulled her from her daydreams though, was the woman handing her a rather nasty-smelling potion and ordering her to drink it up.
By the time the nurse was done, Harriet was feeling pleasantly buzzed enough to lean back in bed, her eyelids drooping in drowsiness as Madam Pomfery withdrew the screen. Harriet saw that Hermione and Draco were whispering to themselves, only stopping when they caught sight of her.
Draco had a petulant expression on his face, while Hermione sported a determined one to counter his. Harriet blinked at that, trying to sit upright to smooth over whatever it was that they were fighting about now, only to be pushed back into a reclining position by Madam Pomfery.
“Now, now dear, you need to rest, and it’s high time your friends left you to do so. You’ll have time to catch up tomorrow when you’re discharged.”
“But-but we haven’t even said much yet! Can’t I just-”
“It’s alright, Harry,” Hermione’s voice cut in, silencing Harriet’s protests. She stared at the other girl in askance, knowing that she wasn’t one to disobey authority figures.
“We’ll come get you tomorrow morning, Harry.” Draco intoned, and Harriet turned and stared at him as if he had just grown another head, rare as it was that he would ever agree with Hermione.
Defeated, Harriet sighed as she snuggled into her temporary bed, pulling the covers up under her chin. Hermione spared enough time to give her a quick hug, and Draco patted her awkwardly on the shoulder before they left, herded out of the infirmary by the nurse.
Harriet didn’t have enough time to ponder the strangeness of the exchange before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
…
Sunday morning dawned early the next day, bringing with it the sun that had the decency to show itself for the first time in months. Madame Pomfery did one last check-up on Harriet before deeming her fit enough to leave, even though she herself had said she would be discharged on that very day.
Harriet joined her friends just outside the door, her bright smile dimming as she beheld their strangely stilted expressions. They all walked for a while in varying degrees of silence, their conversations trailing off before anything substantial could be said. Harriet’s nerves buzzed with anxiety as the idea of something happening being the sole thought in her mind, her hand finding Hermione’s subconsciously.
This continued as they made their way to breakfast, separating as they each went to their respective tables to eat. Harriet took extra care to not draw attention to herself after the ordeal yesterday, keeping her head down as she ate. By the time they had finished their meal, she was one hundred percent sure that she would be paying Madam Pomfery another visit for indigestion.
They made their way to the tree by the lake, which they had designated as their own spot, and that was when Hermione finally broke the silence.
“Harry…Draco and I have been thinking-”
“You’ve been thinking-”
“Not now, Draco.” Hermione took a deep breath, and Harriet saw that she was visibly steeling herself for something. She could feel her own stomach tie up in knots.
“Harry,” Hermione said as she took her hand, squeezing them slightly in reassurance, “I think we should give up on this adventure.”
Harriet blinked in confusion, the words not quite registering in her brain. They sat there for a beat, the silence marinating until she couldn’t help but mutter a quiet:
“What?”
Hermione bit her lip as she glanced at Draco for help, who begrudgingly offered his own two cents.
“Harry, what we did was too dangerous. We really could’ve died because Peeves woke that blasted dog.”
Harriet’s mind ran a mile a minute, hoping for the words to make sense to her, which they did, but her common sense seemed to have completely fled from her body.
“Harry, please,” Hermione picked up where Draco left off, “After the troll, now the ceberus- you have to understand.”
Harriet’s throat finally seemed to work as she muttered lowly: “What are you saying, Mione?”
Hermione squeezed her hand where she was still holding it, and Harriet would have normally been hyper aware of her touch, but that was the last thing on her mind now.
“I’m saying we need to stop, Harry. It doesn’t matter anymore. We could seriously get killed by whoever is after the Stone…”
Harriet watched as Hermione’s mouth kept moving, the words she were saying completely escaping her. Her brain seemed to have completely shut off, and all she could think about, the only thing replaying in her mind were Hermione’s words:
‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’
And where was the lie in that?
She had almost been eaten by a three-headed dog of all things, almost got expelled for goodness sake, and for what? Someone who had gone right back to ignoring her, even after he had saved her life.
Her eyes welled up with tears as as she thought of her relatives, how devastated Aunt Petunia would be about her death and her missing gift, knowing that she had warned her niece against attending Hogwarts; how Uncle Vernon and Dudley would be disappointed in her.
With a jolt, she also realised that Hermione had almost died twice now, in only their first year of school, and she had almost dragged Draco into the same unnecessary danger.
Harriet’s tears fell as she nodded numbly, agreeing with her friends, even though she could feel her spirit splinter and crack, sinking into the well of her despair.
The embers of the flame of her determination flickered and died out.
‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’