Chapter Text
The first half of the summer was wonderful.
Clara’s friend and dormmate Scarlett had promised to convince her parents to take Clara and Harry off the Dursley’s hands before the end of the school year and had made good on that promise, as not long after Hogwarts Express left Kings Cross, she and her mother managed to take her and Harry for a few days - which were the best days Clara has spent in the Muggle world.
Scarlett had a younger brother called Timmy, who had just turned two. Her stepfather Carter was a kind man - perfectly complementing the generous woman Scarlett’s mother was - and was incredibly interested in the wizarding world. Harry took to having long conversations with the man about Quidditch while Scarlett and Clara played with Timmy in the family room.
When Clara asked if Timmy might be a Wizard, Scarlett just shrugged.
“He doesn’t have the same electric air that you and Harry do,” She said, “but he is still young.”
But it didn’t stop him from acting the part out. He would wave sticks he found in the park, with Scarlett and Clara offering minor adjustments to his form, but they were quite content to watch him smack the ground with the stick.
Scarlett lived in Paddington, which was much closer to London than Clara had originally thought, which allowed them to visit London and explore what it had to offer.
They went to parks and theatres, though the most notable event was when they went to a science museum. Clara was captivated by it, as she had never been on any of the field trips to the museum that her class would take.
She paused at one of the attractions to watch a display of the early creation of films, and remembered that her friend Percy Weasley had said he found it interesting how Muggle’s pictures never moved. As she watched the photos roll past, making the illusion of a horse running, she decided to see if there was a place where she could make something similar.
Surely Percy would find it fun to flip through.
Sirius Black, Harry’s Godfather and the one he should have been sent to but was wrongfully accused, heard of his pardon from his crimes, and was soon seen at the Ministry, where Minister Fudge gave what seemed like a very difficult apology and compensation for the negligence on their side.
She read in Scarlett’s copy of the Prophet that he was to undergo an intense therapy by one of the greatest mind-healers in the Wizarding World before he could completely make a comeback to the wizarding society, take over his role as the Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black - as well as take over the proper guardianship of Harry, even though the Prophet made no notice of that.
Clara stared at the long title related to the Black House, and was tempted to write to Draco for a clarification. She knew that the Blacks were considered to be one of the ‘purest’ houses, but surely they weren’t that old, were they?
Not too long after Sirius received news of his pardon, he spent a lot of time with Harry - taking him to places in Muggle London that Sirius had enjoyed going before his imprisonment, and finding new areas of interest.
He never did go to the Dursleys - most likely because Harry had begged for him not to, as the Dursleys were still terrified at the mere mention of Sirius - and instead met Harry at the park, or at Scarlett’s house.
Clara couldn’t help but grin when Scarlett’s parents met Sirius, and laughed as Carter (who she later learned was a police officer for the City of London) tried to cover his unease with a convicted criminal in his house, even if said criminal was innocent.
Clara tried her best not to get in the way of Harry and Sirius’ bonding, even if that meant she stayed with the Dursleys doing chores while Harry and Sirius explored London.
Sirius would get a conflicted look on his face when he realized that she wasn’t actively participating, and even went as far as to ask her what she was doing, but Harry would quickly call his attention elsewhere.
She wondered why Sirius would do that.
Camillia, another one of Clara’s friends and dormmates, made good on her promise to find out more about the Potters from her Grandfather, and Clara was very pleased to see a detailed report from an outsider’s perspective of the Potter family, which she read over every night before she went to bed.
Clara’s final friend and dormmate Ursa did similar, but with the Blacks. It seemed that her grandparents didn’t quite know much about Sirius (Camillia’s grandfather knew more, as it appeared that Sirius ran away to her father’s house when he was still underaged), but what Clara found out didn’t put her in much hope.
Sirius had a younger brother named Regulus (two years younger than Sirius, and had been announced dead in 1979 after a lengthy period of being missing) whom he seemed very attached to, but it changed when Regulus was sorted into Slytherin.
Ursa’s letter said that it appeared that once Sirius discovered his brother didn’t go the way he expected, Sirius had abandoned Regulus in favor of his new family found in Gryffindor.
Clara wondered if Sirius wanted Harry to abandon her, too.
She wondered if Harry would do it.
*
The second half of the summer, though, was rough.
Scarlett and her family left for a holiday, and Sirius had to undergo an intensive therapy session with one of the greatest mind healers at St. Mungos, leaving Harry and Clara with the Dursleys.
And it seemed they were set on starving the Potter siblings, as they were forced to eat what Uncle Vernon called ‘rabbit food’.
While at Smelting’s, the school from which Uncle Vernon was an alumnus and Dudley was a current student, it appeared that Dudley was making a less-than-impressive reputation. His scores were quite low (which Aunt Petunia made the excuse that her Diddykins was a clever boy and his teachers couldn’t understand his brilliance), and he was proving himself to be quite the bully (character-building, Uncle Vernon said while Aunt Petunia wailed that her sweet boy would never hurt a fly).
But the nurse made a statement that not even Uncle Vernon could shake off or Aunt Petunia could make an excuse for.
Dudley was getting to the point where they could not provide proper uniforms because they were simply too small.
So, after many a tantrum that shook the house, Smelting’s sent a strict diet that was taped to the refrigerator, where every single thing that Dudley enjoyed - from chocolate cake to carbonated drinks - was tossed out.
It seemed that Dudley demanded that if he was to go on the diet, then everyone would.
Harry and Clara were subjected to receiving less food than the Dursleys, as they were made to share half of what Dudley received.
Aunt Petunia must have thought that it would improve Dudley’s mood to get more food than they did - a bit of normality in a time of chaos, Clara assumed.
When she wasn’t made to do chores, Clara liked to hum to Maple, who in turn would sing along.
Clara didn’t know if Hedwig minded, but it didn’t seem like the snowy owl did. Or, Hedwig never made it known to her that she disliked the noise.
On the topic of noise, oh, it was simply a sight to see the Dursleys explode with anger when they saw the new addition to the Potters, but Clara wouldn’t have given Maple up for anything.
And it seemed that Maple knew this, as she preened gleefully whenever Clara stepped in the small bedroom room.
One of these days while Clara was in the bedroom, Harry stomped into the room, shut the door, and lifted one of the loose floorboards.
Inside was a marvelous selection of food that was not on Dudley’s dieting plan, and it was simply divine.
Once Harry found out that they were expected to follow along with the diet and chew on celery sticks, he was quick to write to his friends asking them for food to tide them over. Hermione sent a large box of sugar-free items, while Hagrid sent a box of what looked like small rocks.
As she bit into one, it felt like she was biting into a rock. She feared she chipped a tooth, but Harry was quick to reassure her she didn’t.
Mrs. Weasley, though, used Errol, a frail, elderly family owl to send her feasts of meat pies and sweets. It took nearly a week before Errol was fit to fly back to the Burrow, and Clara felt horrid for him.
She hoped he got to have a wonderful nap when he got back.
Clara considered asking her friends for some food but thought better of it. Her dorm mates were all on holiday, and she knew that the twins Pollux and Castor were busy with their internship at the Ministry.
She didn’t know Blaise or Theo well enough to ask, and she didn’t want to ask Draco, as he seemed to go overboard on nearly everything.
On Harry’s birthday, however, he received a cake from each of his friends. Meanwhile, the Dursleys simply carried on with their lives as usual. Now, there were a couple of cakes left, as well as a fresh batch of meat pies sent by Mrs. Weasley, which Clara and Harry had for a late dinner before they went to sleep.
*
Early the next morning, Clara woke up something loud. She paused, waiting to see if it would happen again, which it did. She sat up, looking in the direction it came from, only to see Harry thrashing against the mattress.
He was having another nightmare.
It was something he started doing recently, though she never thought anything of it. It would happen for a moment, and he’d go still, his breath evening out.
However, this time she noticed his scar.
It looked like there was something coming out of it - something like blood.
“Harry?” Clara asked, making her way to him. “Harry, wake up,”
He jolted, breath coming in short, labored bursts.
“Clara?” He swallowed. “Did I wake you?”
He’d been waking her for the better part of a month, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Instead, she shook her head. “Are you feeling alright?”
He nodded. “ ‘m fine,” His hand reached to his forehead, where his scar was, and rubbed it. “My scar feels hot, though,”
She glanced at it and was surprised to see that it looked perfectly normal, albeit a little inflamed. It didn’t look like it was bleeding in the least.
“Should we tell someone? Scars shouldn’t hurt years after an injury,”
Harry sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if it’s worth it to bring it up to someone.”
“But you’re hurting,”
“It’ll be fine, Clara.”
She frowned. “At least tell Sirius,”
“He’s in St. Mungo’s, and he’s not supposed to have outside contact.”
Dumbledore wrote them a letter shortly before Sirius was admitted, stating that it would be best that he didn’t receive any outside interruptions while he was in St. Mungos. Though Clara was a little suspicious. If Sirius truly couldn’t write to them, then he would have told them, surely.
Harry huffed, falling back onto the mattress. “It’s been hurting for a month. And I’ve been having the same dream for a month,”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“Do you think the dream and my scar hurting are related?”
“What was your dream about?”
He thought for a moment. “An old man in an old manor. He was investigating a noise and heard something that sounded frail. I saw someone kneeling in front of a chair, and I heard mention of Wormtail,”
“You don’t think-”
“I don’t know,” Harry sighed again. “But they were talking about some sort of plan, and said something about the disappearance of a Bertha, uh, Jorden? No, it was Jorman, Jorkins, something that started with a J. And me.”
“You?”
“Something in their plan involved me. But the old man was found out, and a snake named Nagini ate him.”
Clara grimaced. “How dreadful,”
Harry made a sound of acknowledgment, though otherwise didn’t show he listened to her.
She waited a few moments and grinned when she heard his breath evening out.
Digging through one of the broken drawers of the dresser chest, she pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill, and a pot of ink. She moved close to the window, where the light from the full moon lit up the page.
She would normally turn on the light, but not only did she want to run the risk of one of the Dursleys finding the light on and Uncle Vernon shouting at her for wasting money, but the lightbulb also broke after Dudley threw one of his books after Harry.
Dear Mrs. Diggory,
Clara stared at the paper. She didn’t quite know how she should ask her and still manage to keep her from knowing it was Harry who was hurt.
I was reading from one of the books that the Hogwarts Librarian, Madame Pince, let me borrow of the summer and it mentioned scars left by curses.
I wondered if you might know if such scars left residual pain after a period of time? A few years, for example?
Clara stared at the paper. Should she add something more?
She shook her head. Surely this was enough.
Clara sprinkled a bit of powdered buckhorn over the ink (Ursa told her it sped up the drying process), and tied it around Maple’s leg.
“Take this to Mrs. Diggory,” Clara said, “Cedric’s mum. Do you remember Cedric?”
Maple trilled, flapping her wings eagerly. She seemed to really like Cedric – especially when he had the owl treats that she adored.
Clara opened the window, letting Maple fly into the night sky. Clara watched as Maple flew West, and couldn’t help but feel amazed that owls could deliver letters to anyone in the world as long as they had a name.
*
The next morning, the Dursleys were already sitting at the table when Harry and Clara walked in. The Dursleys didn’t acknowledge them as they sat at the only available spot that was unluckily across from Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were seated across from each other – and Clara was getting used to the sight of Dudley taking up nearly the entire space of the table.
She wondered if the diet was working for him yet.
Uncle Vernon’s face was covered by a newspaper that he occasionally harrumphed at, while Aunt Petunia was cutting a grapefruit into quarters.
“Here you are, Diddy dear,” Aunt Petunia nearly sang as she slid a plate of a quarter grapefruit in front of him, complete with a knife and fork.
Dudley glared at her.
Aunt Petunia said nothing in response, instead choosing to give Vernon and herself the other quarters, and gave Harry and Clara the last one.
Looked like they would have to share again.
As Harry lifted a knife to cut the grapefruit in half, the doorbell rang.
Uncle Vernon harrumphed, pushing himself out of the chair and waddled to the doorway.
There was a momentary silence before they heard laughter and the sound of paper ripping.
It was the mail, then. Their mailman was a jolly sort, always had something to laugh about. However, it seemed like something had particularly tickled him.
Uncle Vernon stomped into the kitchen and glared at Harry.
“You,” he gruffed. “Living room.”
Harry slid out of the chair and followed Uncle Vernon.
Clara dug her fork into the flesh of the grapefruit, swallowing her portion down in one go. She reached across the table for the knife and cutting board Aunt Petunia was using, taking it to the sink to be washed.
As she cleaned up the kitchen space, she heard Uncle Vernon’s voice rise a few times, no doubt about to yell at Harry for one thing or another. Though when she heard a choke, she wondered what tactic Harry used.
Dropping Sirius’ name was a relatively new thing Harry used to get them to stop - and thus far the most effective. They didn’t bother to correct them that Sirius wasn’t a mass murderer, and the Muggle News network simply said that Sirius was once again in custody of the authorities (Clara guessed it was to keep from explaining the whole Pettigrew ordeal).
Dudley managed to waddle to the doorway of the living room, no doubt hoping to hear Harry get told off for one reason or another, while Aunt Petunia went outside to spy on the neighbors again.
Truly, it was amazing that no one complained about her habit yet.
Harry burst out of the living room, startling Dudley.
“Excellent breakfast this morning,” Harry said, “I’m quite full, aren’t you?”
Dudley didn’t move, and Harry skirted around him before grabbing the rest of the dishes on the table and dumping them into the soapy water in the sink, tugging Clara up to the second bedroom.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re going to the Quidditch World Cup!”
Her eyes grew wide. “What?”
“The Weasleys are taking us to the World Cup! We’ve just got the let them know we can go!”
“Will they fetch us today?”
Harry paused. “I, uh, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“I mean, they probably will if we ask them to, but it sounded like Mrs. Weasley wanted to go about it the Muggle way.”
She thought for a moment. Mr. Weasley loved Muggles, and she supposed it wouldn’t have been too far off to say that he wanted a chance to get to know some Muggles who already knew about magic.
*
The Weasleys said that they would pick Harry and Clara up the next evening, though Clara made sure to pack her chest before supper.
As she finished up her outside evening chores, she was startled to see Maple flying over the roof of the house, before landing gently on Clara’s head.
“That’s an odd spot to land on, girl,” Clara said, lifting her hand for Maple to step to. “Did you have a nice flight?”
Maple trilled, nipping at Clara’s fly-away hair before moving to the offered hand.
When Maple was at face level, she stuck out her claw, which held a securely tied letter.
“Was Mrs. Diggory kind?”
Maple trilled again, flapping her wings a few times.
Clara chuckled, undoing the string that held the letter secure. “She certainly sounded kind from Cedric’s description. I’m glad she met expectations.” Clara moved Maple to her shoulder, unfolding the letter when the owl was balanced.
Dear Miss Potter,
Scars left from curses are a tricky thing. As a general rule of thumb, there are no long-term effects in scars associated with the curse that gave it. However, there are some exclusions to this, with the most common being the usage of black spells or Unforgivables.
There have been cases of scars caused by black spells and rituals linking the victim and the caster. The last known record of this was in 1604, during one of the wars between Ukraine and Belarus. A Ukrainian wizard received a large scar across the eye and along the face from a ritual used to determine where the Ukrainian leader was (as the wizard was known to be exceptional in the art of Occlumacy and was immune to Legimency, which was the usual method used to discover tight-lipped information), though ended up linking the Ukrainian wizard with the Belarusian witch. This event was the pivotal point of Ukraine's defeat against Belarus.
I am honored that you remembered that I work in the recovery of curses ward, and I hope this has helped your understanding.
Amelia Diggory
P.S. I received news that Arthur Weasley has secured tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, and that you have been invited to attend. Cedric will also be attending the World Cup, and should you decide to go, please look out for him. He tends to get a little too excited when the Irish are playing.
Clara sighed. She had some potentially helpful information, but it was also so vague. Just knowing what kind of magic was used was like saying someone used a warm potion to heal a mental illness. It narrowed it down, but not by a lot.
But, she was pleased to hear that Cedric would be going to the World Cup. She hoped he would be easy to find, and that he’d like the flipbook she made for him. It wasn’t quite the golden eagle from Rome he wanted, but it might tide him over until she managed to get to Italy.