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The Adventures of Harriet Potter: Year 3 - Ch3

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(All characters and locations within belong to J.K. Rowling unless otherwise stated.)

Chapter 3



To Glen Raglan



“Yes. Sticks and stones can break bones. However, it is much easier to heal bones than the soul, and only words can damage the soul.”

General (ret.) Jigme Dorji Wengshuk


“A-accidental—” Aunt Petunia started to ask. She was cut off by Ripper’s yelp when Uncle Vernon gave his leg a violent shake to dislodge his teeth.

“Accidental Magic Reversal Squad,” the unseen Mr Horne repeated.

Uncle Vernon backed away from Ripper and Harriet finally saw the newcomer stride into the room. She had expected Headmaster Sherrod Howe by the voice, but that was not who she saw. The man had a different nose, wore overlarge spectacles that made his eyes look half their normal size, and his usually fly-away hair was slicked back. He wore gaudy, sunshine-yellow robes with MoM emblazoned on a small shield on the left breast. Ripper growled at him but made no effort to attack.

Despite the changed appearance, Harriet was absolutely sure that it was Professor Howe. Her suspicions were confirmed when he glanced at her and gave her the tiniest of winks. In spite of everything that had happened, Harriet felt her heart lift. The only person in the world who could have made her feel more relieved at that very moment would have been Albus Dumbledore.

To Harriet’s surprise another man stepped into view behind Professor Howe. This man was taller and more slender in build. He had short, brown hair, a high widow’s peak and a very neatly trimmed moustache. He was wearing the same colour robes as Professor Howe. Harriet noted he had a cane, but did not seem to be leaning on it.

Uncle Vernon turned to the new man. Despite wearing robes, Harriet supposed the dignified way the man carried himself, combined with a cane and moustache, made Uncle Vernon gravitate more towards the newcomer than Professor Howe.

Uncle Vernon’s tone remained quite rude. “What is this? What are you doing in my house?!” he demanded.

“As my colleague said,” the new man replied, “we are from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. Occasionally young witches and wizards are pressed to performing magic unintentionally. This most typically happens when the young witch or wizard is undergoing a severe emotional trauma.”

He put strong emphasis on ‘severe’ and Harriet could not help but notice his eyes dart up to Aunt Marge and back. Harriet blinked. How could he have known Aunt Marge had been attacking her? Had the two men been watching the house?

“When this happens,” the new man went on, “we are called in to undo the magic and return everything to a state of normality. For instance, we are here to deflate your sister, Miss Marjorie Dursley, and take young Miss Potter off of your hands for the time being.”

The new man spoke in a very prim, proper voice. For some reason he put her in mind of an army officer, or perhaps a doctor. Harriet felt her heart lift, ‘take young Miss Potter off your hands…?

“Oh, I-I see,” Uncle Vernon stammered.

“Quite. So my colleague, Mister Horne, will attend to Miss Marjorie Dursley, and I shall attend to Miss Potter’s injuries,” the man continued.

“Injuries?!”

“Yes injuries. I see a very clear redness on her left cheek which looks very much as though it was left by an impact, most likely a slap given the distinct four digit imprint.”

Harriet felt her cheek. It was still hot to the touch and stung as she touched it.

“I-I-I see,” Uncle Vernon muttered.

“Yes, Mister Dursley,” Mr Horne said stepping forward. “Believe it or not, we in the magical world do not take kindly to abusive behaviour towards children of any kind, be they magical or Muggle.”

Uncle Vernon swallowed and his face was beginning to turn puce. “Now look here—”

“I should also note the large bruise forming on her right thigh, Mister Dursley,” the new man added.

Harriet looked down at her thigh and blushed realizing she was still only wearing a t-shirt and her underwear. She hugged her chest tighter. She was starting to feel ashamed again. Uncle Vernon’s face began to turn green.

“Abuse is a very serious crime, Mister Dursley,” Mr Horne said. He sounded grave, but Harriet could not help but feel an underlying note of anger.

“Abuse?!” Uncle Vernon snapped. “We’ve spent our hard earned money and given up valuable living space for—”

“Allowing her the barest minimum to stay alive and actually function as a human being should, I am sure,” the new man said. “You are aware that emotional and psychological abuse are treated as equal to physical abuse under the law, Mister Dursley? And I believe with the slap-mark and bruise we easily have evidence of three forms of abuse going on at once.”

“And even if we cannot directly prosecute you for the abuses, we can very easily notify Muggle authorities, who I am sure, will look into the matter quite closely. You enjoy living here at Number Four, Privet Drive, do you not, Mister Dursley? You enjoy your reputation as a respectable business man? Funny how rapidly that can change, isn’t it? One moment you are on top of the world, and the next you are disgraced,” Mr Horne said gravely.

“Are you threatening me?” Uncle Vernon growled. His fat hands curled into fists.

“Oh no, we are not threatening you, Mister Dursley. Merely informing you of the consequences should this activity continue,” the new man said.

Harriet could see the wheels in Uncle Vernon’s head spin as he looked back and forth between the two men.

“Is that understood, Mister Dursley?” Mr Horne pressed.

Uncle Vernon did not respond right away. His mouth was moving as though he was trying to form words. Aunt Petunia was looking back and forth between her husband and the two men, her eyes wide with fear.

Finally, Uncle Vernon growled, “Understood.”

“Marvellous!” Mr Horne said clapping his hands together merrily.

There was the sound of Dudley’s door opening down the hall. She heard Dudley’s groggy voice. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked. Harriet heard him waddling down the hall towards her room. He stepped into the doorway and blinked, his eyes going wide in shock. “Who’re you two?”

“Wizards!” Mr Horne exclaimed.

Dudley gasped, grabbed his four foot-wide buttocks and waddled as quickly as he could back down the hall to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Mr Horne grinned. As he did, the man Harriet didn’t know strode past Uncle Vernon towards her. She pulled back a little by instinct and he paused, holding up his hands.

“Shhh… it’s alright, dear. We’re here to help. No one’s going to hurt you anymore,” he said kneeling down beside her bed. Harriet noticed him wince.

He held out his arms slowly and smiled. “Come here, Harriet, it’s alright.”

Harriet looked over at Mr Horne, who gave her an encouraging nod. Harriet held out her arms which she noticed were shaking and put them around the new man’s neck. He scooped one arm under her tied legs and the other under her back lifting her gently from the bed. Though he lifted her easily, Harriet heard him grunt in pain as he got to his feet.

Even if Harriet had never met this man before, she felt safe with him and rested her head on his shoulder. He carried her from the room, down the hall, and down the stairs to the sitting room. He sat her down on the sofa and knelt again in front of her. She was still shaking.

“It’s alright, Harriet,” he said in his soft, calming voice. “My name is Jefferson Watkins. I am the Deputy headmaster at Rathlin, and a long-time friend of Headmaster Howe, who is, incidentally, Mr Horne. I’m sure you were completely fooled by his brilliant disguise,” the man said in an ever-suffering voice. “I’m also a doctor, and I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

Harriet felt her lip trembling and tears welling in her eyes. She yelped and leapt forward into the man’s arms again at a sudden loud popping noise from upstairs. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon cried out in shock and Ripper began barking again. She heard the squealing sound of a balloon letting out all its air rapidly and a loud thumping noise. There was a snarl and Uncle Vernon shouted in pain. Ripper had bitten Uncle Vernon again.

Harriet leaned back, embarrassed that she was still so vulnerable and jumpy. She kept fighting back sniffles as she watched Doctor Watkins undo the clothesline from her legs for her and reach into a satchel at his side. He pulled out a bottle with the words Belknapp’s Brilliant Bump and Bruise Balm on the label and opened the top. He applied some of the balm to a soft pad contained in the lid.

“I’m just going to apply this to your bruise, is that alright?” he asked, still speaking in a soft, calming voice.

Harriet felt her shoulders jump in a suppressed sob and she nodded. She had never felt so terrible in her life. Aunt Marge’s words kept flowing through her mind, stabbing at her. Tears clouded her vision as she heard them over and over again. Freak. Degenerate. Whore. She felt dirty again. She felt even dirtier than when she had learned Riddle was invading her dreams.

“Shhh…” Doctor Watkins said and gently rested a hand on Harriet’s cheek. “It’s alright. You were told some very, very horrible things tonight but they’re not true… there is nothing wrong with you, Harriet… nothing at all. It’s okay to be upset, anyone would be.”

Harriet sniffled and nodded. She wanted to believe him, she really did. But the pain was still too close in her chest for her to believe him fully.

“There, all better,” she heard him say and she felt a soft cloth gently dabbing away her tears.

Harriet blushed. She’d been so distracted she hadn’t even felt him apply the balm. The pain in her leg was gone, as was the bruise.

“Thank you…” she said, so quietly she could barely hear herself.

Professor Howe came down the stairs, and as he did the door to the cupboard under the stairs opened on its own and her trunk and broomstick flew out and over to Harriet and Doctor Watkins. The trunk lip popped open and her broomstick settled itself beside her on the sofa.

Upstairs, Harriet heard Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon shout out in surprise. Harriet watched her books, her presents, her cards, her clothes, Hedwig’s old cage, even the bundles of clothesline come flying down the stairs. The items all fitted themselves neatly into her trunk, with the exception of Hedwig’s cage and a pair of jeans, socks, and her trainers. The trunk closed and Hedwig’s cage set down gently on top of it while the clothes landed in Harriet’s lap.

Professor Howe flicked his wand again and the trunk, her broomstick, and Hedwig’s cage vanished. “Well, Harriet, if you wouldn’t mind getting dressed, we will be taking you to the place you’ll be spending the rest of your holidays now,” Professor Howe said, smiling warmly.

“Wh-where are you taking me?” Harriet asked.

“Someplace safe, with people who care for you,” Doctor Watkins said smiling.

“The Weasleys?!” Harriet asked, unable to keep the hope out of her voice.

The smiles on both men’s faces fell for the briefest of moments. “Unfortunately the Weasleys are still on their holiday in Egypt,” Professor Howe said. “Though trust me, were that not the case they would be our first choice. No, we found another even more secure location to take you.”

Harriet blinked and the two men turned their backs to her.

“Go ahead and get dressed, Harriet. We won’t look. You’ve suffered enough tonight,” Doctor Watkins said.

Harriet nodded and dressed as quickly as she could. She was impeded by the fact she was still shaking from the stress of everything that had happened. “Finished,” she said and the two men turned back, still smiling.

Harriet heard the sound of feet coming down the stairs. Uncle Vernon came in looking just as livid as ever. Both legs of his pyjama pants were now in bloody tatters.

“Right, she’s forgotten the whole thing, thinks she just drank too much. Now I want you out of my house!” Uncle Vernon demanded.

“Ah-ah-ah, just one moment,” Professor Howe said and produced a piece of parchment and a quill from nowhere. Harriet blinked looking at it and just barely stopped herself from gasping. It was her Hogsmeade permission form.

“I just need you to sign this release form so we may take Harriet off your hands,” Professor Howe said. He once again gave Harriet the very subtlest of winks.

Uncle Vernon scowled and took the quill and parchment. He seemed so eager to be rid of Harriet he signed without even looking at the parchment. It wasn’t until he handed it back that he started to wise up. “Wait a moment… I recognize that form…”

“Oh I’m sure you do,” Professor Howe said grinning pleasantly.

Uncle Vernon was about to say something more when suddenly the doorbell rang. “Who is it now?!” He snarled angrily.

“Accidental Magic Reversal Squad,” called a friendly voice from behind the door.

“Oh dear,” Professor Howe said.

“That was faster than expected,” Doctor Watkins mumbled.

Harriet looked back and forth between them. Uncle Vernon did too and dawning comprehension swept over his face. “Accidental Magic Reversal Squad? Isn’t that who you two are supposed to be?” Uncle Vernon growled through gritted teeth.

Professor Howe looked at his pocket-watch. “Got a plan?”

“Yep. Run for it.” Doctor Watkins said.

“Knew there was a reason I keep you around,” Professor Howe said re-pocketing his watch.

“Had to be at least one.”

Without another word, Professor Howe grabbed Harriet’s hand pulling her along as both men ran for the back door. Harriet could hear Uncle Vernon shouting indistinctly after them as the door flung itself open and all three darted through it one after another without slowing down. They hopped the garden fence, ran through the next garden, and out into the next street.

There they turned and started running west. Harriet was trying her best to keep up with the two men but it was difficult as their legs were so much longer than hers. She looked up at them and to her surprise saw both of them were grinning as though they were having the time of their lives.

“Just like old times then,” Professor Howe said, sounding out of breath as they kept going.

“Just like last month I think would be more appropriate,” Doctor Watkins gasped.

In spite of everything, the sight of their grinning faces and their laughing banter finally made Harriet smile for the first time since her birthday. Eventually they paused after running what felt like a mile. Harriet’s lungs burned and she doubled over, hands on her knees gasping. Doctor Watkins was grunting in pain, a hand on his hip as he leaned very heavily on his cane.

“Think we lost them?” Doctor Watkins asked through gritted teeth.

“We probably did the moment we left the back door, but better to be safe and all that,” Professor Howe gasped, trying to catch his breath.

Both men broke down laughing slapping each other’s backs. Harriet grinned too but paused as she looked back towards the Dursleys. There, galloping after them down the middle of the road, lit up by a street lamp, was the biggest dog Harriet had ever seen. It was jet-black, with sharp, pointed ears and its eyes glinted bright green. It halted as it spotted Harriet watching and simply stared back at her. It was an eerie feeling. Even at this distance Harriet got a sense of intelligence from the dog. She didn’t know why, but she was completely convinced the dog was following them.

Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins stopped laughing when they saw it. Professor Howe put a hand on Harriet’s shoulder.

“Come on, Harriet, nothing to be afraid of… just a dog,” he said clearly trying to sound casual.

“That’s… that’s not an ordinary dog,” Harriet said.

Professor Howe sighed. “No, it is not.”

“Then what is it?”

“A Black Dog,” Professor Howe said. “Britain’s full of them.”

“A Black Dog?”

“Yes, a Gurt Dog by the looks of it,” Professor Howe said. He cleared his throat and called out to the dog. “The girl is safe with us. You are not needed tonight!”

Harriet watched in amazement as the dog took one more step towards them, clearly debating continuing to follow them. It looked away, then back, then away again and finally turned and trotted off out of the street light and into the night.

Professor Howe smiled down at her. “It’s a sign of good fortune. Gurt Dogs protect travellers, especially children. Formidable looking but it’s meant to be to ward away those who would do harm to the innocent and defenceless. Many say that Black Dogs are ill omens,” Professor Howe continued, “but they’re mostly misunderstood. They’re big and scary so people like to attach dark names to them: Barguist, the Grim, Gytrash, Padfoot.”

“Well Padfoot’s not terribly scary,” Harriet admitted with a shrug. Professor Howe’s explanation of what the creature was made her wish the dog was still there. It seemed interesting now, and if it was a good omen she wasn’t anxious for it to leave after all that had happened.

“Well then, fastest way to get from one end of the country to the other…” Professor Howe trailed off as he drew his wand again. He didn’t cast a charm with it. Instead, he stuck his wand out, using his right hand, and flicked it upwards as if hitchhiking.

Harriet only had a single second to register this when there was an ear-splitting bang and her vision was blocked by a bright purple wall that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Harriet took a step back and looked up realizing it was not a wall, but a bright-purple, triple-decker bus.

From the door hopped a young man in a conductor’s uniform the same garish shade of purple as the bus. He looked to be eighteen or nineteen, with copper hair, protruding ears, and more than a few spots.

His voice cracked a couple times as he spoke. “Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for—”

“We know, Stan,” Professor Howe said cutting the boy off. “Three passengers. Top floor. One bed. One hot chocolate. Let us off last. No questions asked. You never saw us get on. You never served us that hot chocolate. You never saw us get off.”

Professor Howe handed Stan a small but heavy sack that clinked as though it was full of galleons. Stan’s face twisted into a knowing grin and he winked. “Say no more, gov’! Don’t welcome aboard the Knight Bus! Don’t make your way to the top floor. I won’t be up with your hot chocolate and I most certainly will not see you off in the morning on our last stop!” Stan said and stepped aside.

Doctor Watkins climbed in first and Harriet followed, with Professor Howe taking up the rear. Stan hopped in and shut the door tight behind them. Harriet was led up two flights of spiralling stairs to the top of the bus, which was empty.

They led Harriet to a bed and each took seats in comfy armchairs next to it. Stan brought up the hot chocolate and handed it to Harriet.

As he bent down, he suddenly looked suspicious. “’ang on… aren’t—”

“I believe the condition was no questions,” Doctor Watkins said, warning in his voice.

Stan’s face went a little white and he simply bowed and headed back towards the stairs. Professor Howe grinned and took a tighter hold of his chair. “Hold on.”

Harriet was about to ask what he meant, but she did not get the chance. The moment she opened her mouth, the bus lurched forward, knocking her onto her side and dropping her hot chocolate to the floor.

* * * *


Harriet didn’t know how long she had been sleeping. She didn’t remember falling asleep, or even lying down. What’s more, once she woke up, she wasn’t sure exactly how she could have fallen asleep in the first place. First of all, her mind was still full of the memories of everything that had happened that night. Second of all, she was still on a bus that seemed to be careening across the countryside, shaking and swerving violently.

Looking out the window, Harriet saw it was nearly dawn. Trees and buildings whipped past the window as though the bus was moving hundreds of miles an hour. Harriet looked around to see the tired but smiling faces of Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins looking back at her from their armchairs beside her bed. She noted that both of them had removed their sunshine-yellow robes in favour of normal clothes. She also saw that Professor Howe had returned all his features back to normal and ditched the oversized spectacles.

“Goodness, you slept well,” Professor Howe said, stretching and cracking his knuckles.

“I—I guess I did,” Harriet muttered, reaching up and redoing her pony-tail. “Where are we?”

“Aboard the Knight Bus, nearly to our destination of Glen Raglan,” Professor Howe said cheerily.

“Glen Raglan?” Harriet asked.

“Yes, a safe place,” Professor Howe said. He looked down and leaned over a chess-set, studying it intently. It looked to be a perfectly normal chess-set. Unlike Wizard’s Chess, the pieces did not look as though they could move. However, the moment Harriet thought that, the pieces began to slide around the board, moving in patterns she could not decipher, but it seemed to make sense to Professor Howe.

“Message from Morrisey,” he muttered to Doctor Watkins.

“What’s that?” Doctor Watkins asked, lowering the copy of the Daily Prophet he was holding.

“Albus just found out. So did the Minister. They’re not happy,” Professor Howe said, sitting back in his chair with the faintest hint of a grin.

Doctor Watkins chuckled. “Not happy about what? About what that woman did to Harriet or that we removed her from Privet Drive without informing them?”

“Can’t it be both?” Professor Howe replied, his grin widening.

Doctor Watkins rolled his eyes and resumed reading his newspaper. Harriet looked at the large picture on the front page. It was Sirius Black again. Harriet shivered at the sight of his gaunt, skeletal face.

There was something very unsettling about Black. It wasn’t just his thin and waxy skin or his long, shaggy, unwashed hair. It was his eyes. If his eyes weren’t moving back and forth, Harriet would have thought it was a Muggle picture. The worst part, though, was the deep, burning anger glittering in the eyes.

“S-so, he’s still on the loose, huh?” Harriet asked.

Doctor Watkins looked at the front page and Professor Howe furrowed his brow. “Ah, yes. Yes he still is it seems,” Professor Howe said.

Harriet looked at Professor Howe, biting her lip, thinking. “Is he… is he really as dangerous as everyone’s said?” she asked. If Black had been capable of killing thirteen people with a single curse before spending twelve years in Azkaban, Harriet hated to think of what he would be capable of now.

Professor Howe’s lips tightened. “Well that’s an interesting question. He is unpredictable, which makes him rather dangerous. You see Harriet that is part of the reason we are relocating you.”

Harriet blinked. “What?”

“It seems to be the standing theory that you are one of two people who Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban to come after,” Professor Howe explained.

Harriet’s eyes widened. “M-me? But why? What does he have against me?”

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t asked, as she felt rather stupid. If Sirius Black had been Lord Voldemort’s right-hand man, then of course he would want to come after Harriet in revenge. However, Professor Howe did not seem to mind.

“It’s a delicate matter, Harriet,” Professor Howe said, but he paused as Doctor Watkins cleared his throat. “What?” he asked.

“I thought we’d discussed this?” Doctor Watkins asked, not looking up from his paper.

“We did and I thought we agreed my plan was best.”

“No we discussed it and agreed my plan was the more prudent, at which point you apparently decided to go ahead anyway.”

“I certainly did not. I wouldn’t tell her such delicate information on the Knight Bus,” Professor Howe said in a placating tone, leaving Doctor Watkins looking somewhat relieved.

Professor Howe smiled at Harriet. “I’ll tell her when we arrive.”

“Howe!”

There was no time to reply as the Knight Bus screeched to a halt. Harriet was thrown onto her back and felt the bed skid a couple of feet towards the front of the bus. The conductor, Stan Shunpike, poked his head up over the edge of the spiral staircase, rather like a spotty, purple gopher.

“Here you aren’t!” Stan said in a cheery tone. “This is not Glen Raglan, and it’s not our final stop of the night—”

“Thank you, Stan, we got the point,” Doctor Watkins said getting to his feet.

Harriet stood and Professor Howe vanished his chess set. The three climbed down the spiral staircase after Stan and disembarked from the bus. The bus gave off a loud bang and vanished as it rocketed away, too fast to be seen.

“Well, here we are then,” Professor Howe said. He pointed to a wooded lane. She tilted her head back and gasped seeing a large, ornate sign that stretched over the lane. As Harriet looked closer her eyes went even wider in the realization it was not a sign, but two trees that had been grown together, their branches spelling the words “Glen Raglan.”

“Off we go,” Professor Howe said and put a hand on Harriet’s shoulder, guiding her down the lane. The trees were so thick that they blocked all light from the coming dawn and Professor Howe had to draw his wand to light the path. Somewhere nearby Harriet could hear the rushing of a river. After about five minutes they rounded a corner and Harriet’s jaw fell open. They had come to a large, exquisite manor house.

The manor was made of white brick, with a high, grey, gabled roof. The edges of the gables were lined with battlements and there were chimneys everywhere. The corners of the manor were tall turrets, topped with pointed roofs and intricate spires. Here and there on the walls were bay windows. What was even more amazing was the way it seemed to spring right up from the middle of a river that acted as a sort of moat around the building, with a small drawbridge covering the large front door. Over both was another banner with the words “McIntyre Manor”.

“Wow…” Harriet gasped. “Who-who lives—wait… McIntyre?!”

Both men simply smiled down at her in reply when the little drawbridge began lowering, setting down on their side of the bank as they approached. The front door opened and four people stepped out and waved eagerly. They were silhouetted by the light behind them but as Harriet, Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins started across the drawbridge Harriet saw it was Scott and Kieran’s parents.

“Well hello Miss Potter!” Mister McIntyre said in a boisterous, jovial tone. “Welcome to our home!”

“We’re so glad you made it safe,” Mrs McIntyre said as she and Mrs O’Brien rushed forward to hug Harriet.

Harriet was pleased, but quite taken aback at this greeting. While Mr McIntyre was still beaming, Mr O’Brien was looking anxious as he shook hands with Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins. She wondered if they were worried about Sirius Black.

“Now, let us get inside b’fore anything else,” Mr O’Brien said.

“Quite agree,” Doctor Watkins said and they all stepped inside.

Harriet looked around eagerly. “Where’s Scott?” she asked and looked at the O’Brien’s. “Is Kieran here too?”

“Scott’s still asleep, dear,” Mrs McIntyre said. “We knew that you were going to be brought straight here if something were to happen, but we didn’t know if or when that would be.”

“And Kieran is back at our house,” Mrs O’Brien said. “We live in the little house right across the road.”

“Headmaster Howe sent a message ahead to us that you were finally coming at the same time he sent your belongings, but Scott had already nodded off by then,” Mr McIntyre said. “Are you hungry? We can get you some breakfast. Our new cook is fantastic. Or just a little bite if you would like to get some sleep?”

“I… I am a little hungry,” Harriet admitted. “But I am pretty tired.”

“Good, good,” Mr McIntyre said merrily. “Whichever would suit you best. You are a guest in our home. Your comfort and safety are our only concern.”

They passed through a large room that reminded Harriet of the entrance hall at Hogwarts, but not nearly as big, and made of bright red wood instead of stone. There was a large wooden staircase leading up to the second floor, with doors on the far wall and both of the side doors.

They followed Mr and Mrs McIntyre down a long hallway. It was lit by silver candelabras and lined with portraits. Harriet was surprised to see that at least half of them seemed to be perfectly normal Muggle portraits, unlike magical ones where the occupants could move and talk.

Mr McIntyre stopped and opened a door leading off the hall. They all stepped through and Harriet found herself in a sitting room. Everyone took seats around a large coffee table, Mrs McIntyre directing Harriet towards the most comfortable of the armchairs.

“Well,” Mr McIntyre said as he took a seat. “I suppose you’d like to know why exactly you’re here?”

Harriet nodded.

“Well,” he looked at Professor Howe who gave a single nod. “It’s… it’s not a happy story, Harriet.” Despite his jovial appearance when she had arrived, Mr McIntyre now looked very grave. “Well, you see, it involves Sirius Black.”

Harriet nodded. “Yeah… Professor Howe said that he was after me.”

“Well, aye,” Mr O’Brien said. “But it’s more complicated than that, love.”

“How so?” Harriet asked. She was starting to feel more worried.

“Once upon a time, Sirius Black and your father were best friends,” Professor Howe said.

Mr O’Brien, Mrs O’Brien and Mrs McIntyre all gave Professor Howe a disapproving look, but he kept looking past them at Harriet, unabashed. Mr McIntyre merely looked as though he had lock jaw. Judging by the looks on all the other faces, this was not what Mr O’Brien had been about to say.

“W-what?”

“Yes, the best of friends. He was even best-man in your parent’s wedding. And after that, he apparently became a spy for Lord Voldemort,” Professor Howe went on.

Predictably, everyone in the room except her, Professor Howe and Doctor Watkins shivered to hear Lord Voldemort’s name. However, something about that statement seemed odd.

“Wait… he was my dad’s friend for that long and then he became a spy?”

“Well, no one knows exactly when he became a spy,” Professor Howe said casually. “There are theories of course.”

“Yes… there are theories,” Doctor Watkins said with a tone of warning in his voice.

“Didn’t… didn’t anyone question him about it?” Harriet asked, trying to comprehend what she was being told.

“Funnily enough, no one did,” Professor Howe said. “He was arrested after the incident in which thirteen people were killed and sent straight to Azkaban without trial.”

There was a moment’s silence after this. The O’Briens and the McIntyres were looking at Professor Howe with surprise. Apparently even they did not know that bit of information.

“Without a trial?” Harriet asked.

“Indeed,” Professor Howe said. He sounded oddly bitter. “Anyway, long story short, his ties to your father is an unfortunate connection that you have with Black and I believe it is dictating his current actions. The Minister of Magic and Professor Dumbledore do not want you to know this information,” Professor Howe said. “They are under the strange delusion it will keep you ‘happy’ to remain ignorant. However, I think you have it in you to handle this information. You have the right to know.”

Harriet didn’t react. She was still trying to process it all. “But… why…? What actions…? How does everyone know he’s after me anyway?” Harriet asked. Now that she was getting at least some answers, she wanted more.

“Apparently, before his escape, Black had been talking in his sleep for nearly a month. Granted most prisoners in Azkaban go mad and talk in their sleep but this was different,” Professor Howe said. “He muttered three phrases in particular over and over again; ‘save Harriet,’ ‘he’s at Hogwarts,’ and ‘kill the traitor.’”

Harriet furrowed her brow. “Save me…? From what?”

Mr O’Brien grimaced. “What we think it means is he wishes to turn you to the Dark Arts.”

Harriet chewed her lip in thought. “T-turn me to the Dark Arts? Even though I defeated Lord Voldemort?”

“Even though you defeated Lord Voldemort or because you defeated Lord Voldemort?” Professor Howe asked darkly. “You are powerful, clever, and gifted Harriet, never forget that.”

Harriet shivered and hugged her chest, looking at her knees which were bouncing from her anxiety. “But… why…?” she asked, greatly regretting having the conversation.

“Well, you already said it. You stopped Lord Voldemort,” Mr O’Brien said. “That can mean one of two things to a mind like Black’s… either kill you for revenge… or that you are an even more powerful witch to follow than Lord Voldemort was.”

Harriet grimaced. There it was again. Just like Professor Dumbledore had told her at the end of last term. Inside everyone there was the capacity to do great good and great evil. But Harriet just wanted to live. Of course she wanted to do good, but she certainly didn’t want to do evil of any kind.

Mr O’Brien leaned forward and put a hand on Harriet’s shoulder. “The Dark Arts are a terrible thing, Harriet,” he said. “Those who follow them are capable of the greatest evil. The lives of others mean absolutely nothing to them. All that matters is their own power. But that is a reflection of who Black is, not you.”

“But…” Harriet was thinking hard. “Why did he become a spy after all that time? Or was he a spy the whole time?”

“Those are very good questions,” Professor Howe said, enigmatically.

“Well… we… we can’t answer those questions really,” Mrs McIntyre said awkwardly and patted Harriet’s hand. “What matters is you’re safe.”

Harriet shook her head as though shaking off a fly. That was too much to take in at once, so she changed the subject. “But… those last two can’t be about me… I mean he named me but—”

“Well… if Voldemort had spies in our ranks, we certainly had spies of our own in his,” Professor Howe said. “One of those spies works at Hogwarts today. The Ministry believes that the spy is the ‘traitor’ Black is referring to. And it is he who is in far greater danger of being murdered than you in my opinion. However, the Ministry continues to believe that you are Black’s primary target, as he did name you.”

“But you don’t think he’s out to kill me?” Harriet asked.

“No, I do not,” Professor Howe said.

Harriet glanced around at the other faces. No one looked convinced of Professor Howe’s theory. Harriet spoke up again. “I just… I don’t get it… why would he want to turn me instead of kill me? Not that I want him to kill me, but I don’t want him to try and turn me to the Dark Arts either!”

“Well, there is the problem. He’s unpredictable. After so many years in Azkaban, it is impossible to know just how unhinged he has become. I was not allowed to make a proper study of him while he was in custody. But you see what has everyone the most worried about the situation is not only was Sirius Black the best-man in your parents’ wedding, but after you were born he was even at your christening—”

“Professor Howe! Really!” Mrs McIntyre spluttered in shock.

“That is enough!” Mrs O’Brien agreed.

Both were glaring at Professor Howe. Mr O’Brien looked as though he agreed with the two women, but he seemed resigned to the truth now that it was out.

“He… he was at my christening…?” Harriet asked, mouth gaping.

Mr O’Brien sighed. “Yes…” he said miserably. “Irene and I were there that day,” he gave a short, mirthless laugh. “So was Kieran come to think of it, but he was nought but three months. Anyway, yes… it’s so strange now… remembering that day… Black seemed so genuinely happy… he was crying…”

“So that’s why we’ve been keeping a rather close eye on you since the escape,” Professor Howe butted in. “Because he may try anything… he may in fact be out to kill you in revenge, or to convert you, frankly we just cannot be sure.”

Harriet shivered and hugged her legs even tighter, rocking.  This was too much, this was way too much. She wished they hadn’t told her, not after all that had happened last night. She didn’t want to know that Sirius Black had been friends with her father, or the best-man in their wedding, or at Harriet’s christening. She didn’t want anything to do with him. She didn’t want him to take her away or to kill her. She just wanted to smile and be happy for a change.

“We know this is hard, Harriet, but personally, I—I agree with Professor Howe. I believe it is better for you to be told this in a controlled environment with people who care for you, rather than hearing about it elsewhere. With everything going on, I think it is inevitable that you will learn all this information eventually. Just know that we’re here for you, and we’ll do all we can to protect you and make you happy while you’re here,” Mr McIntyre said, doing his best to smile.

Harriet shivered again and fished around for something else to talk about.

“So, who is the spy?” she asked.

Professor Howe started to respond when the door to the room opened again. Harriet turned, expecting to see Scott but instead saw no one there. She blinked in confusion when she heard a very familiar voice speak from somewhere near her elbow and the smell of fresh quiche, sausages and tea filled her nose. She looked down to see what appeared to be a floating silver tray that was indeed laden with quiche and sausages and tea.

“Breakfast, Sir and Lady,” said the unmistakable voice of—

“DOBBY!?” Harriet gasped at the floating food tray next to her. It lifted and Harriet saw the tell-tale tennis-ball green eyes, pointy nose, and bat ears of Dobby the house-elf.

Dobby’s overlarge eyes went, if possible, even wider and before Harriet even saw what happened the tray of food was rattling on the coffee table and Dobby had leapt up, hugging Harriet tight around the chest and sobbing in happiness.

“Oh Harriet Potter! Dobby never thought he would see you again so soon!”

Harriet looked up at the McIntyres who were beaming back.

“W-when… how?”

“Well… the poor dear turned up on our doorstep looking for work,” Mrs McIntyre said smiling down at Dobby.

Proper work,” Mr McIntyre added, his eyes twinkling.

“With paying and everything Harriet Potter!” Dobby said, his eyes reverent as he looked back at Mr and Mrs McIntyre. “My new Sir and Lady give Dobby ten galleons a week! Dobby wanted less, Miss, but they said to Dobby they would put it in his account whether he wanted it or not, so Dobby had better accept it or it would all go to waste! Dobby is saving it, Miss; Dobby thinks it will do great good some day! And Dobby gets one day off per week!”

“And such wonderful tales he told too of the sweet, kind, brave, and good young lady who freed him from his cruel former owners,” Mr McIntyre chuckled and winked. “I can’t imagine who he could have been referring to.”

Dobby’s eyes welled up with more tears. “Oh yes, Miss, oh yes… Dobby is so much happier here. Such kind and wonderful wizards… young Master McIntyre is so kind and keeps his room so clean so as not to inconvenience Dobby… never has Dobby known so many wizards who cared for him so much…”

Mrs O’Brien smiled now. “You are a person, too, Dobby… someday the rest of the world will see that too.”

Dobby beamed. So did Harriet. All her dark thoughts about Sirius Black, Lord Voldemort, her parents’ death and Aunt Marge’s attack had vanished with Dobby’s arrival. Dobby had found work like he always wanted with some of the nicest people Harriet knew. She was free from the Dursleys for the rest of the summer, staying with some of her best friends. And best of all, Professor Howe had tricked Uncle Vernon into signing her Hogsmeade permission form for her. All in all, it was shaping up already to be one of the best summers Harriet had ever had.
We've escaped from Privet Drive! We meet a new face whie a familiar face returns!

Cover art by Momagie

Mr and Mrs McIntyre, Mr and Mrs O'Brien property of Night-Miner

Sherrod Howe and Jefferson Watkins property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

All other characters and locations property of J.K. Rowling

Original concept by Night-Miner and littlebityamelie

Proof reading/editting by Night-Miner, littlebityamelie and H-A-Cooke

Link to Chapter 4: The Adventures of Harriet Potter: Year 3 - Ch4
(All characters and locations within belong to J.K. Rowling unless otherwise stated.)
Chapter 4
The Best Summer
“While secrets between friends are never good, often times when someone does not want to tell you something, they have a very, very good reason not to do so.”
General (ret.) Jigme Dorji Wengshuk
Harriet couldn’t fall back asleep. She felt just like she had when she arrived at the Weasleys’ the summer before. She was just too excited to sleep. After Professor Howe, Doctor Watkins and the O’Briens left Mr and Mrs McIntyre showed Harriet to her room.
It was just as beautiful as the rest of the house. The walls had been painted a deep, forest green with a sky-blue ceiling. The furniture was made of the same reddish cherry wood as the stairs in the entrance chamber. The bed was enormous, with a green tartan comforter and a tall headboard covered in an intricate engraving. The colour schem


Link back to Chapter 2: The Adventures of Harriet Potter: Year 3 - Ch2
(All characters and locations within belong to J.K. Rowling unless otherwise stated.)
Chapter 2
The Birthday and the Beast
“If only everyone had someone to ride in and save them at the last moment.”
General (ret.) Jigme Dorji Wengshuk
Number Four, Privet Drive, was a perfectly normal house, and inside it lived a perfectly normal family. At least that was what the family who lived in Number Four wanted all the other perfectly normal families in the neighbourhood to think. However, every now and then, odd things would happen around Number Four that were difficult for the rest of the street to ignore.
The first incident was that night twelve years ago when a motorbike had roared up to Number Four in the middle of the night, paused and then roared off again. Many in the neighbourhood heard it, but by a freak coincidence all of the street lamps had gone out on Privet Drive that night, so no one actually saw the brut
© 2013 - 2024 the-mind-of-kleinnak
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Terradorro's avatar
For some reason I envision Jefferson Watkins as having two top hats on his head, akin to Chancellor Cole from Legend of Zelda, spirit tracks. He seems so posh.