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~Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train, it was sunny…~
There were only three people who had never doubted that her decision was not made out of impulse: Archie, Leo, and Harry herself.
Looking back, Archie had, somehow, known it was coming. After spending so much time researching the Fade cure with Hermione, he had been slapped in the face with the cold hard truth of their society. Bits and pieces he had known before—how could he not?—but it was different seeing it from Hermione’s point of view. As the sole, pureblooded Black heir, some things he knew he could never personally understand. So maybe it was the dwindling number of muggleborns and halfbloods in Wizarding Britain. It was most definitely the deep-seated prejudice within their society. The whole environment was basically screaming for Harry to go, to leave this place—in fact, Archie had even asked Hermione why she wanted to come back to Britain to work after AIM.
The only thing tying Harry to this place had been Snape, and perhaps their family. When those ties were brutally severed, Archie had known exactly why it happened, even though Harry hadn’t mentioned a word of it to him beforehand.
Maybe it had come from growing up with Harry, but the day before Harry revealed herself as Rigel Black and left Britain for good, Archie, home for the weekend, had bumped into her coming out of her lab, took one look at her, and he knew.
Harry gave no physical indicator as to what she was planning, but there was an air of finality as she shut the lab door behind her. Looking up, her eyes had met his and Archie was 99% sure at that moment that she was planning something, and it was something big.
Archie didn’t ask.
Harry shifted uncomfortably, but let him study her curiously, which only confirmed Archie’s yet-to-be-named suspicions. She didn’t look different from usual, but in her eyes, he could see peace in them that he hadn’t seen since they were eleven. There was even a small spark of innocent mischievousness they had both lost a long time ago. In that moment, Archie let his guts guide him, and words came tumbling out of his mouth before he knew it.
“Have you found your stars?”
This question was out of context, but somehow, Harry understood him, as she always did. Their eyes locked onto each other and suddenly they were seven again, trying to achieve telepathy so they wouldn’t get into trouble with their parents.
Her smile was just a degree softer when she replied to his seemingly nonsensical question.
“Worlds, Archie.”
~Who knows if I never showed up what could've been…~
Harry truly was a daughter of her parents. She made preparations quietly, and went out with a bang.
At first, she had no thoughts of leaving. Her life was here. Her loved ones were here. The fight was here. She had wanted to start over after the Ruse, and bury the past in its hatchet.
But then she saw.
She saw her companions—she couldn’t even truly call them friends because they really weren’t close—fight for her. She was not being conceited; she was not so naive to think that they were fighting for all the halfbloods and muggleborns in Britain. They were only fighting for her, so she could get away with the Stick of Sludge, simply because of a tentative friendship they had formed during the past year. She saw them bleed and incur Riddle’s wrath for someone who had only lied to them.
She was no longer who she once was, and she couldn’t watch others suffer in the name of potions.
So she started to make backup plans then, just in case, but what truly spurred her to move was her loved ones.
After she earned her Mastery, just when she’d thought she’d finally gotten her life back on track, Regulus loosened his tongue. Was it because of threats? Torture? His own free will? Either way, Regulus was stripped of his last name, but Harry couldn’t care less about what would happen to him.
Because it was only a matter of time.
Riddle thought she was in close contact with Rigel, and began harassing not only her, but also her friends and family. It would only be a matter of time before he connected the dots. What would he do to her then? To her parents? To Archie, Sirius, and Remus? To Addy?
Snape? Her Hogwarts friends? The Alleys? The contestants of the tournament?
To Leo?
In her years of operating the ruse, she had created too many liabilities.
Leo had known what Harry was going to do the moment she decided. It wasn’t that Harry trusted Leo more than Archie—she loved and trusted them both equally—it was more like Harry had only told Leo because she had needed his help. Harry had needed his resources to execute the plan perfectly.
The only thing she hadn’t anticipated was that Leo would insert himself into her carefully planned agenda and just simply… not leave .
She should’ve known.
She really should’ve known.
So as Leo finished what he needed to do on his part, Harry mercilessly tied up her loose ends.
…There are many things I have yet to learn from you. I will come back once I am powerful and strong enough to stand on my own two feet, and become a lighter burden on your shoulders. If it is not too arrogant a request, please wait for me.
-Harry
Within the same hour Harry left Snape’s tutelage, she also left the Potter family. The signature on the letter for Snape held the same flourish as the one on the Ministry papers that permanently erased Harriet Potter from the Potter family registry.
Because contrary to what she wrote to Snape, Harry knew that once everything was set in motion, there was no turning back.
~And they said, “There goes the last great American dynasty…”~
It was Valentine’s Day. Riddle scanned the room habitually, boredom permeating every single cell in his body.
He had no reason to be bored. All his political enemies were in the room together with his followers. The old coot, in his murder-inducing magenta robes, was on the other side of the room, the damn twinkle in his eyes as provocative as ever.
This was a Ministry event. It wasn’t even a “technical” Ministry event—Riddle had no hand in this, and as far as he knew, neither had Dumbledore. Both were surprised when they showed up. After all, it was just a standard celebratory Ministry event, and the Party leaders normally neglected these gatherings.
It was supposed to be a day celebrating love, but the room was quiet, with only the occasional whisper floating about. The presence of both Riddle and Dumbledore was forbidding, even taking into consideration the atrocious decoration in the room, and the participants huddled in small groups, talking at a level only they could hear—as they should.
It was apparent that they were both here to persuade the so-called neutrals in this party. Riddle was slightly amused at that thought.
His heart was not really in it, but he easily roped the sycophants around him into his schemes. While talking, his sensitive ears caught wind of another group’s murmurs.
Rigel Black .
It took more effort than he would admit to keep his expression controlled. It did not please him at all that after all this time, he was still trying to track down that child. He didn’t know how he did it, but the child had managed to remove the tracker, responsive to his magic only , from the Rod of Zuriel. So now not only did he not have the artifact anymore, he’d also lost his means of tracing the impertinent brat. All his gambling at the awards ceremony had been for nothing.
He did manage to keep his anger at controllable levels to pry Harriet Potter’s name out of Regulus’s mind though.
With a new direction in mind, Riddle knew it was only a matter of time before she showed her hand. So he plotted, provoked her, and waited patiently for her to take the bait.
Rigel Black for her family .
This time, Riddle couldn’t help the vindictive curl of his lips at the thought. The person across from him looked terrified at his expression, but Riddle had no time to acknowledge him as something suddenly obstructed his vision. Reflexively, his magic reached out and attempted to obliterate whatever it was into ashes.
Key word: attempted.
The floating thing—a bouquet of flowers—simply winked out of existence and appeared two feet away, slowly hovering back to Riddle.
And of course, everybody noticed. It took everything in him to not lose his composure in such a public situation.
They watched with bated breath as the bouquet of white clovers and snapdragons made its way over. They didn’t dare say anything as Riddle tried to Vanish it, only to see it wink out of existence again before appearing once more, this time right above Riddle’s head.
It was as if it wasn’t real.
Swearing to kill whoever was doing this, Riddle could only watch it get closer and closer after various tries to destroy it failed. The amused twinkle Dumbledore sent Riddle’s way only irked him more. The bouquet spun on the spot above his head, expanded, and in a flowery explosion, self-destructed, showering him with a sea of white, pink, and red.
Well, it was Valentine’s Day, even if the flower choice was a bit…eccentric. That was what the Ministry officials thought anyway.
Somebody sneezed.
Nobody dared to say a word, if only because Riddle looked like he was about to murder everyone in the room. Only the ones standing next to Dumbledore had the guts to smile at the display.
And Dumbledore himself? Still twinkling away like nobody’s business.
The fallen flowers rose up again, and before anyone could react, spun around the room in a mini tornado, eliciting yelps of surprise as it tore through every inch of the room. It went as quickly as it came, settling down back at Riddle’s feet at the speed of light, and in just a few seconds, it was as if that whirlwind was nothing but a dream.
Riddle wasn’t so easily distracted.
He watched anything but the flower tornado, and was rewarded for his efforts when a figure suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.
“Rigel Black,” he hissed, the vindictive twist of his tongue letting out a snake-like hiss.
It was only when the flowers had settled that the people noticed the newest addition.
Rigel Black was still wearing the face when he saw him last. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out the startled movements of Dumbledore and his followers moving forward. Ignoring them, and with a vicious snarl, Riddle’s magic lashed out towards Rigel, only to be stopped by a magical barrier.
Potter’s Protection Potion, Riddle guessed, testing the boundaries of the barrier. No matter. His magic was strong enough to break through forcefully.
His magic rammed into the shield viciously and violently, but the barrier only shuddered. Riddle spared Dumbledore a glance.
He was helping the boy.
As Riddle’s magic battered against the magical shield, Rigel’s gaze dropped pointedly to the flowers and back to him. Then, he had the audacity to turn his back—yes, turn his back —to Riddle and addressed the crowd gaping at his bold arrival.
“I am here today to make a statement.”
Under the drilling stares of everyone present, and ignoring Riddle’s unrelenting magic with finesse, Rigel rummaged through his robes for a good second before producing…a spray bottle.
Disregarding the scrutiny that was now more incredulous, Rigel reached out with the hand holding the spray bottle and sprayed himself.
Immediately, his features started changing. Riddle could only see his back, but even he could make out the curving of his body, his hair growing longer, and…was he getting shorter? Riddle made to stride towards him. If he was choosing to peel off his disguise, whether it was true or not, he had to see it.
Before he could take more than one step, however, Rigel turned around, and Riddle froze in place.
Her messy, curly hair was carelessly swept to the side, and her eyes were a fierce, glowing green that had been the subject of gossip for the past fifteen to sixteen years. Her skin was just a shade darker, her cheeks and lips fuller.
Harriet Potter looked him dead in the eye and her lips twitched into a familiar smirk, one he had used just moments ago.
Riddle barely had time to catch the twitch of her wand, and Potter disappeared as quickly as she came. He could only stare at the space she was before, just a second ago.
White clovers—remember me.
Snapdragons—deception.
Remember my deception .
~Bill was the heir to the Standard Oil name and money…~
The whole Wizarding World was abuzz, and with the American Ministry of Magic announcing their support for Harry immediately after the news of the reveal got out, it wasn’t hard to guess where Harry would end up, if she wasn’t there already.
Meanwhile, in the British Ministry of Magic, the auror department was crowded and the tension was thick.
“I’m Sealed,” Archie repeated the same words he’d been saying ever since Harry fled the scene after the spectacle on Valentine’s Day.
Archie, not for the first time, marveled at Harry’s resourcefulness. She had known this would happen, whether on her own terms or Riddle’s, and fled, leaving no one who knew enough to be incriminated in Britain.
Archie had been home from AIM for the weekend anyway, and now, with what Harry did, he was tied up in Britain to answer the aurors’, the Minister’s, Riddle’s, and literally everybody else’s questions. Archie wondered briefly how many ways Hermione was going to kill him for all the missed classes.
He was acting way too cheerful as someone who had been caught lying to the authorities.
“That does not change the fact that not only did you withhold crucial information, you lied to authorities and knowingly aided a criminal.”
“I didn’t lie,” Archie argued back, “I signed a truth parchment and everything. It was physically and magically impossible to lie.”
“You deliberately hid the fact that you knew who Rigel Black was the entire time!” One of the aurors snapped.
“You never asked,” Archie pointed out in a reasonable tone he knew drove adults nuts. And was speaking the truth—at least within Ministry doors. When he had been questioned by Kingsley, he really hadn’t been asked any direct questions. “And even if you had, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you anyway.”
“And that makes it better?” It came out in a part-growl. James had been silent this entire time, but now, he finally spoke to his nephew for the first time in a few days.
“It’s not about making things better,” Archie was guilty, of course, but he tried his best to ignore the way his heart pounded, “It’s about the fact that I did the best that I could to aid the law enforcement given the circumstances. You treated me as a source of information in the case, and so I became the best source of information I could within the boundaries of the Curse.”
Kingsley, who still looked peeved that he got duped by two eleven-year-olds, asked, “Do you know where Harriet Potter is right now? Don’t say that this is Sealed too because there are ways to discover the limits of such a Curse.”
“No,” Archie answered honestly. “I didn’t even know she was leaving.”
He guessed , but he didn’t know .
“Do you have any ways of contact?”
“Do owls count?” Archie asked faux innocently. Both James and Sirius sent him a sharp look, the latter drumming his fingers nervously on his lap, but neither said anything. Clearly, they were both thinking about the mirror.
“Don’t expect us to believe you don’t have any special means of communication, boy!” Fudge, who was listening in, cut into the conversation. The only person more frantic and eager to find Harry than him was probably Riddle. “You will not be the one to write the truth parchment this time, so don’t think you can get away with your fancy wording.”
“Not anymore I don’t.” Harry had left her mirror in her room.
Before anyone could say anything else, another auror threw open the door and burst into the room with a bang, with what looked like several copies of the Daily Prophet in his hands.
All eyes turned to the intruder who dared interrupt their all-important interrogation, but the frenzied auror didn’t seem to notice or care. “Sir, you’ve got to see this!”
It didn’t matter who he was talking to, Fudge or James, because the moment he dumped the papers onto the desk, the tension in the room got even thicker, if it was possible.
Archie leaned over as well. He knew that there were very few things that could take everyone’s attention away from him now, and none of them good.
Then he choked.
There were a few headlines from the past few days that Archie expected, which he just scanned over:
THE REAL RIGEL BLACK CHILD: A STORY OF DECEIT
By A. Smudgley
FALL OF THE POTTER FAMILY
By E. Limus
THE LIES OF HARRIET POTTER AND ARCTURUS BLACK
By B. Braithwaite
The headline that made him do a double take, though, was the one dated today.
HARRIET POTTER WEDS 80-YEAR-OLD AMERICAN BACHELOR
By Rita Skeeter
Reporter, Special Correspondent, and Gossip Correspondent
As the Wizarding World is still reeling from the fact that the Rigel Black Child has been under our noses this whole time, everybody is asking the same question: what becomes of Harriet Potter, aka Rigel Black?
It is with righteous outrage that this reporter informs you, dear readers, that the answer is: nothing.
Harriet Potter has shown her character through her actions in the past few years. She lied and deceived her family, friends, and our esteemed educational and political system. She is a person who would stop at nothing to get what she wants, even if it is through underhanded means. She upended our traditions and values like no other.
So perhaps it is not so surprising that she would continue to do so. As we all know, Potter disappeared on Valentine’s Day, not to be seen again. Recently, however, this reporter managed to track down where Potter ended up: America, where she continued to celebrate Valentine’s through marriage.
That’s right, dear readers, your eyes do not deceive you. Marriage. Potter has seduced a rich, dying gentleman to conspire with her. You may wonder—surely acquiring information that this reporter was able to obtain would be easy for Magical Law Enforcement, right? Why haven’t we heard of any Auror action?
Well, certain personnel issues aside, I regret to inform you that the Auror Department’s hands are tied. It seems like this incident has escalated to an international concern meant for the Department of Foreign Affairs. After going through the records, this reporter found that Potter has sneakily removed her citizenship and is now a holder of an American citizenship by marriage. In other words, Potter cannot be held accountable for her actions unless she sets foot in Britain.
Harriet Potter is a very sneaky, immoral, and extremely dangerous public enemy. We here at the Daily Prophet advise our readers to report any sightings to your local authorities.
“Arcturus. Black.” James’s magic swirled around the room like a tornado, before putting pressure on the only viable target. Even the best-controlled magic went wild sometimes.
Archie, in return, just stared at the article, stunned.
Then he cursed.
~The wedding was charming, if a little gauche…~
“You’re not eighty,” Harry informed Leo.
She was looking at him as though she was seriously worried about his mental health. Leo’s lips twitched. He could understand her reaction—this piece of information was one he had neglected to mention during their planning sessions. I have another identity in the States , was what he said. If we both sign, I can pull some strings and they won’t be able to incarcerate you, provided you don’t break the law or set foot in Britain again .
He just conveniently “forgot” that when he created the identity papers, he had put 75 as the age. After all, he had constructed this person for the sole purpose of putting some of his overseas assets under his name. At that time, he thought that an old man would be the least suspicious.
Now it was coming back to bite his—no, Harry’s ass.
Leo produced the identity card. “Sorry,” he said, giving her a sheepish grin. “I have so many fake identities I forgot the age of this one.”
Harry looked like she didn’t know whether it was better to believe him or not.
“We can kill him off,” Leo coaxed. “Then I won’t have to pretend to be an eighty-year-old man.”
“Do you have any idea what this will do to my reputation?” Harry asked incredulously. Though her tone was sharp as always, Leo could tell she wasn’t actually angry. Good.
Which was why Leo had the guts to reply, “Nothing more than you haven’t already done yourself.”
Harry rolled her eyes at him.
“This won’t affect our future plans,” Leo promised. “I’ll transfer everything under your name and die publicly and dramatically.”
Though it would hurt that they wouldn’t be married anymore. The only reason he got Harry to agree to this plan in the first place was because to her, it was just a means to an end.
“But then you would have no identity.”
Leo scratched his head. “I can create another one? I can be the young, charming boytoy you brought with you into your marriage with the old and dying tycoon.”
At a certain point in life, when one had nothing more to lose, things like reputation didn’t really matter. Leo knew that Harry knew this too—she had already given up her whole life for her family’s. True to his predictions, Harry just sighed.
“...Don’t get the age wrong this time.”
~It must have been her fault his heart gave out…~
The most recent turn of events was so amazingly dramatic that Caelum Lestrange had to pinch himself.
He wasn’t dreaming.
Of all the ridiculousness he thought Potter could get up to, being Rigel Black…was not one of them.
He had barely had enough time to digest that before what felt like everyone in the potions community rushed at him. In reality, it was only a few people, but Caelum felt like a few lifetimes had passed him by by the time he shooed them away and reassured the authorities that no, he had not made the connection between the RBC and Harriet Potter. In a rare moment of sympathy, Caelum shuddered just thinking about what Master Snape was dealing with on his end.
Just when he thought things would finally quiet down, the morning news slapped him in the face: Potter found an American husband, and the husband…died.
What.
He had heard rumors of Potter’s marriage before, but he knew better than to trust the likes of Rita Skeeter. Romance, Caelum thought, was the last thing on Potter’s list. That was one of the very few things they had in common. So when he received his copy of the Daily Prophet Special Edition, he’d calmly put it back down where he found it and burned it without a second chance.
He remained skeptical when Rita Skeeter’s newest article about Potter’s dead husband came out, but of all the times to do it, Skeeter actually cited the American morning newspaper as a source. Against his better judgment, Caelum used his own contacts and did a little digging himself. What he found was enough to send his mug shattering as he dropped it in shock and anger.
What in Merlin was Harriet Potter thinking ? He could appreciate the trouble she went into just to get a few extra years of potions tutelage, but this ?
Caelum scowled at his wall. Freaking Potter creating nothing but trouble for him. Now he had to find a way to clear her name in Britain if he wanted to save her.
He tried not to dwell on that notion.
~There's only so far new money goes…~
Across the Pacific, Harry was blissfully unaware of the ripples she created in Great Britain. Well, she wasn’t unaware, per se, she just actively tried not to think about it by immersing herself in her plans. The rest of her life would depend on these years of foundation.
“You know, this is turning out better than I thought it would,” Leo looked at her concoction thoughtfully.
“It’s just a pie,” Harry sighed for the umpteenth time. Why was he making such a big deal out of this? “And we had a recipe. And magic, if anything goes wrong.”
Leo looked at the pie weirdly. “You said you didn’t cook.”
“There’s a recipe,” Harry repeated. She swatted away Leo’s finger trying to poke at it. “Don’t touch it. It’s for Cameron.”
“Well, Great Mage Liwen isn’t going to be as easy to win over as Cameron.” Leo shrugged nonchalantly. When Harry glanced at him sharply, he quickly amended, “What I meant was make friends with. Because that’s what we’re doing. Making friends. With no ulterior motives at all.”
“Don’t make it sound so sinister,” Harry couldn’t help the twitch of her lips. “There’s nothing wrong with making mutually beneficial connections.”
As Leo said, what Harry had was the skills, but not the network. So that was what she was doing—even though currently all she did was bake a pie for her neighbor. Being on friendly terms with your neighbor was generally a good thing to have.
Not that she was falling behind on her research either. In the few short months, Harry had already managed to secure a few collaborations with some American Potions Masters, pushing away the feeling of guilt towards Snape. The world moved on, and so did the field of potions.
Even though both Harry and Leo were relatively well-off, especially if they considered the amount of assets Leo’s 80-year-old self had, and Harry still sold her potions, so they had extra money to spare. They were still working on the details, but soon enough there would be a foundation dedicated to funding researchers with promise, not limited to potions. Harry was well aware that she would not be where she was if her family couldn’t afford it.
At first, she only wanted to use her money, but Leo practically dumped all his accounting books in her lap and told her she could use and manage his money as she liked because numbers made his head hurt. So Harry hesitantly used his gold as well, after Leo practically ordered her to. It was two birds with one stone, and for Leo, in more ways than one. But Harry didn’t realize that.
~Filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names, and blew through the money on the boys and the ballet…~
It had been over a year since Rigel—well, Harriet, he supposed, but in his head she was Rigel—left for America.
It was Draco’s birthday, and unlike last year, he stubbornly insisted on inviting Arcturus Black. Last year, he hadn’t wanted to see his face, but this year, it was time to start grilling him. To his surprise, he accepted the invitation. He was either stupid, had no sense of self-preservation at all, didn’t care, or had other schemes of his own. Knowing him (he didn’t), it was probably somehow a mix of the above. It wouldn’t be the first time Arcturus achieved something impossible.
“The children they raise,” an elder witch muttered at the back, shaking the newspaper in her hands. Draco had read his copy that morning, and to be honest, why did she bring it to his party? It was yet another article—the fifth this month, not that he was counting—about Rigel’s extravagant parties at her American estate, where she lived with her boytoy. She wasn’t even trying to hide from them; she was waving her proverbial and literal gold in their faces, tantalizing and taunting them. Come get me , she seemed to be saying. If you can .
Draco knew for a fact multiple people had been to her parties, but they always came back without anything, let alone anyone. Her extravaganza was a mystery. In fact, the only thing not mysterious about her was her wealth, and everybody could guess where that came from notRigel’sdeadhusband . One thing the British Ministry of Magic hated more than most was that the rest of the world and the British Potions Guild relied heavily on Rigel’s inventions. They were especially sour because it was essentially a big middle finger from the potions community, one more influential than people realized, as they’d found out.
“Perhaps you’d best explain that, cousin mine,” Draco said as pleasantly as possible. Despite being the star of the party, he’d shamelessly stuck himself next to Arcturus like glue.
“There are so many things to explain, yet so little,” Arcturus replied mysteriously. Draco wasn’t fooled; he could see the mischievous twinkle in his eye. “In my short life I’ve learned not to answer just because I was asked.”
“Then why are you here?” Draco shot back. Not that it made a difference whether Arcturus talked or not, because he never spoke the truth. He was also still a minor, so it wasn’t like Draco could slip him Veritaserum either, though he suspected that would be Arcturus’s fate once he turned seventeen. When he had been begrudgingly let back to America for school, his father with him, every eye had been on them. Officially, Arcturus never left campus, and Sirius Black spent his days milling about and shopping. Just the fact that these were the reports, that they never made contact with Rigel, was suspicious in and of itself.
“Because you invited me.” Arcturus dramatically threw his arms around Draco, who wriggled out of his hold after a hot second of internal debate. It would be more embarrassing to have a Black draped on him, Draco decided. Arcturus’s eyes twinkled , like Dumbledore’s. What the hell? “My other cousin wouldn’t invite me to her parties, so I have to make do.”
Before Draco could react properly, Arcturus flounced off, as if he hadn’t just mentioned Rigel without prompting, and what he mentioned wasn’t even worth anything but at the same time, everything.
Draco’s eyes narrowed in thought, and they met Pansy’s, who was standing not far from him. Evidently, she had heard their conversation, and they shared a look.
They had already been planning to go to one of those parties, but now their direction was confirmed—not that they had any doubts about it in the first place.
Rigel , Draco thought, whatever you’re doing, I’m coming .
~And losing on card game bets with Dalí…~
Harry had to suck it up, even though she would much rather be in the lab. She didn’t think she would get the feeling of being in too deep again after the ruse reveal, yet here she was. Somehow, their Bibliophilic Aspiring Researchers Foundation (BARF) had a shadier side to it that spouted out of nowhere, selling information and sometimes even talent to select members of society.
It was the price of starting something with Leo, she supposed. He couldn’t help attracting all sorts of attention, wherever he was. Leo was never going to turn down helping those he deemed worthy, and those people often needed things other than money. There were virtually no downsides to running a side business, especially since Leo did most of the work, and sometimes very interesting information would pop up. Interesting, hair loss-inducing information. Really, Harry had no reason to complain about it, if not for the drama it was causing.
Harry’s long, wild hair was mostly tamed and swept to the side, but that didn’t stop some curls from falling into her eyes. Her dress, though modest, was flattering and the posture Rispah instilled into her only made her look more regal. With a flick of her wrist, Harry’s fan opened, hiding the bottom half of her face as she peered at the man in front of her. The man, thinking she was smiling at him from behind her fan, subtly preened and added his stack to the coins.
Only Leo knew Harry’s current smile was more of a grimace. He had to admit that when it came to social graces, Rispah was a genius. Knowing Harry, though not incapable, grew tired after a short while of constant facial control, she practically shoved a fan into her hands. It worked wonders.
The moment the man put it all in, he was doomed. There was a reason those who chose to win her favor through gambling never succeeded, Harry thought amusedly. Not with Leo dealing the cards. Nobody had discovered it yet, and Leo insisted it was lucrative. Harry couldn’t disagree.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a flash of platinum blond. Harry paused in her movements. Slowly, she turned her head in that direction and—there they were. Two platinum blondes were openly staring in her direction, as if their eyes could summon answers. To be honest, Harry had been expecting them ever since she started overtly hosting these parties. To think they could wait this long…
For all that she knew, she didn’t know what that meant.
Clearly, Leo had spotted them too, because he shot her a questioning look. She just shrugged.
Before Harry could make a decision, she was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. She whirled around to find a familiar face scowling at her.
“...Master Snape,” she greeted after a second of silence. This was, what, the fifth time he’d attended her parties?
“Potter,” Snape still looked annoyed. “A moment of your precious time?”
Harry nodded, hoping she didn’t look as awkward as she felt. When she was in front of Snape, it was like she was back in her bumbling Hogwarts days, afraid of making even one wrong move. “My answer still hasn’t changed, Master Snape.”
“Even if I give you two unconditional favors?” Without letting her reply, he added, “Don’t underestimate the value of these favors.”
Harry pursed her lips. “No matter what you offer, information about the Stone and the mythical Hallows are still classified.”
“What is so classified about something mythical ?” Snape countered. “What will it take for you to de-classify them?”
(AN: by thinking about it. -Trump)
“I wonder.” Harry smiled sharply. “I think you and I should put our efforts into potions instead of talking about what-ifs and legends. Stories. After all, both you and I hate wasted time.”
“Yet here we are,” he muttered grumpily. Harry felt some sympathy for him. Snape would never ask these questions of his own accord—clearly, someone put him up to it. But who? Dumbledore, or Riddle? Harry could never be too sure.
“Draco and Pansy are here,” Harry changed the subject after a brief pause.
Snape gave an affirmative hum. He studied her expression curiously. “Are you going to meet with them?”
He knew, as well as she did, that she didn’t talk to just anyone at these parties. As Leo told her, it was a hierarchy thing. At first, she called it bullshit, but overtime, she’d realized that sometimes people attended the party, but never made any attempts to talk to her. She’d be distracted by the ones who did , and by the time she was aware she hadn’t greeted everyone, they’d be gone. It was weird and discomforting, and she had to force herself to get used to it as her social circle expanded and she had to choose who to meet.
Was this a test?
“Only if they want to talk to me,” she said at last.
Whether they wanted to or not, Harry wouldn’t find out that night, because just as she finished talking with Snape, the doors to her estate banged open.
~Holiday House sat quietly on that beach, free of women with madness, their men and bad habits…~
Harry’s doors banging open was the most dramatic moment of the night. After that, everything was so anticlimactic that, while she felt relieved, the adrenaline junkie in her was a little disappointed.
The cloaked men with skull masks had barely made it a step in before a magical bubble suddenly appeared and encased them. To make things even better, the bubble of Death Eaters rose until it hit the ceiling. Voldemort himself was contained by a barrier that was essentially an invisible box. At the exact same time, the portkey pins everybody had to wear activated, and the room became empty in two seconds except for the terrorists, Harry, and Leo.
It looked laughably easy, except it had taken Harry and her mother ages to figure out how to keep magic contained in the invisible box.
“Well,” Leo broke the silence. Did she mention the bubble and the box were both soundproof as well? “That was easy.”
The doors banged open again only this time, a bunch of young adults in their twenties ran in. The one leading them was an excitable short ginger. “Did we do it? Did it work? It did, didn’t it! We all felt it when it activated!”
“Enough, Edric,” a black-haired girl pulled him back. “We’re not blind.”
“My dear apprentices,” Leo grinned. “Your reaction time is…appropriate.”
“Good thing we’re not your apprentices then,” a blonde shot back, sensing the criticism in his words. “Where’s Lily?”
“She’ll probably be here soon,” Harry answered. No doubt her mother would have been alerted that the barrier had been activated as well.
“Let’s wrap them up, shall we?” Edric called out cheerfully.
And if Voldemort and his Death Eaters were wrapped up in a big and sparkly pink bow tie and sent back to where they came from—because they were wholly Britain’s problem—Harry officially had nothing to do with it.
“We’ve stayed here long enough, have we?” Leo asked quietly.
“...We accomplished what we came here for.” Harry glanced up at him. A new, stable life. Along the way, she’d even reconnected with her family, not that anyone could ever know. She’d almost reunited with her friends as well—but that could be fixed later.
“And if…you could reclaim your life?”
“What do you mean, reclaim?” Harry linked her arm with his. “I’ve always had my life.”
This time, she didn’t miss the double meaning.
~They say she was seen on occasion, pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea…~
“What did you just say?” Harry was sure she’d heard him wrong.
“The law’s been overturned,” Archie repeated, the grin threatening to spill out of his face. “You’ll see it in the news tomorrow.”
“ How? ” Harry demanded. To overturn a legislation as major as blood law, they needed a majority of the vote, which the Light didn’t have.
“That’s the part you wouldn’t believe,” Archie reported faux-solemnly. “Guess who led some of the Dark side to revolt?”
“Who?” A small suspicion was already forming in Harry’s head.
“ Lestrange ,” Archie whispered, as if it was a great secret. Then, clearing his throat, he added, “And your Slytherin classmates. Apparently, they’d been planning this for a long time. Like, damn , Harry.”
Harry didn’t know how to react. On one hand, she was stunned. On the other, she wasn’t at all, as though the part of her that had had faith in her friendships once upon a time had finally awakened. She just stared at Archie for a while, and slowly, her lips twitched upwards.
“I—” And suddenly, her lips twisted even more, and something wet slid down her cheek. The wetness was quickly wiped off, but more came. “I don’t know what to say.”
Archie just sent her a reassuring smile. In front of him, she didn’t need to say anything. Whatever she chose to do with this new information was up to her, and he would continue to support her from the sidelines.
Always.
“So did you find the stars on the other side, Harry?”
“Worlds, Archie.”
~I had a marvelous time ruining everything…~