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Archie had encouraged Harriet to take up journaling. It was a while back- just after the basilisk incident of second year, before the ruse brought dread in her every waking moment, but already after it had scarred her.
She laughed his suggestion off at the time. A written statement of their crimes? No thank you! She would rather walk naked into the boys slytherin dorms whilst under the Rigel polyjuice. It would have the same effect.
Archie told her it would be good for her; she told Archie that Azkaban is famously not good for one’s health. He gave her a mildly constipated look. He didn’t bring it up for another year.
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In the dead of night, a week after their birthday, Archie called on the mirror. Harry, who had been staring at the ceiling for an hour, answered.
He asked how she had been, with the same look on his face from a year ago. She seized the opportunity to ask him about his internship, trying her best to goad him with questions. He raised an eyebrow and asked after her sleeping habits. She decided then was the time to really define the word filibustering, with a demonstration.
He tried to ask about her sleep again. He mentioned journalling, again. Just some kind of written record- getting out her feelings, sorting through them. Archie and Harry both knew she could curse whatever vessel to hell and back in order to stop anyone reading it.
She said she would think about it.
She really tried to. It’s just- what do you do? A physical note of one’s crimes is really not a good idea. If she were anyone else, or in any other situation, she may have considered it.
It occurred to her that she could simply do a mental journal. I mean- if anyone gets in her mind, she is screwed anyway, so. No problem!
She went into her mindscape to journal, and then she realised that she had no idea how.
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Harriet Lilliana Potter mentally wrote her first will when she was twelve, being floated alongside a possessed Ginny Weasley on the way to a chamber. It didn’t include many items- notably just that her cloak should go to Archie, the map should go to her father, Sirius and Remus, that all her potions notes should be given to Professor Snape, and that Archie should explain her secrets. She figured that although the will was mental- Archie could figure it out.
It could be considered the first time she journalled. A very stretched, loose version of the verb- but, as she justified it to herself, it was going through her thoughts and feelings in an organised manner.
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Harriet goes to France. Lily bargained with James that they needed to take a break- as a family. She says that it is in order to practice her French, but they all know it’s actual purpose is to reconnect with the daughter that has been drifting apart from them.
She sees some postcards in a run-down tourist stand, the day before they leave. She thinks of Archie- second-year, ecstatic- receiving one from Hermione Granger. She thinks of Aldon, who sent her one from Germany, and Edmund’s accompanying signature. She thinks of Draco, sending one from Spanish landmarks complaining about the ‘frankly ridiculous’ heat, Blaize saying ‘hello!’ from Italian vineyards and estates-
When she buys a few, she first justifies it by sending some to the Auror’s office- just to keep them off the trail and busy. Maybe send them on holiday while she is at it.
She does not write any to her old friends. She thinks that Draco would appreciate the Louvre, and the fact she visited, but shakes off the thought. They are no longer friends that she can contact.
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She does not tell Professor Snape that she is deeply sorry. This apology is implied with all that she does. Frankly, she believes he has already forgiven her for the ruse- but that isn’t what she is apologizing for.
While she does not say sorry verbally, to his face- or even clearly in the safety of her own mind- it echoes in the shape of her footsteps when she practices dodging with Remus, it finds its way into the crook of her neck when Lily mentions the defence disk offhandedly, it is in the beating of her heart when she sees bright green. Sorry.
For not moving fast enough. For not being good enough to dodge. For being too arrogant, too careless, too unpractised-
And she does her best to not think it aloud or even in quiet, but it finds its way to the back of her mind, nonetheless.
She thinks he might enjoy a postcard from the Bahamas. No apology, no explanation- just a ‘bet you wish you were here!’ and a mischievous smiley-face doodle. She spends the next afternoon wheedling Marek to duel her- properly this time- I swear you are going easy on me-
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She doesn’t tell Margo that the flowers remind her of a friend. She tells the flowers, though, because Harriet likes to think they can hear thoughts, but cannot reveal her secrets. She apologizes to the flowers for telling them when they cannot share, but she does not feel guilty about it.
She then tells the flowers about Pansy- beautiful, sly, clever Pansy. She tells them about all the times Pansy said, ‘boys.’ In that condescending tone of hers, and about how she resisted agreeing with her- every single time.
She thinks that Pansy would like the postcard she bought from Margo- a picture of the various flowers Margo sells. Chrysanthemums, daisies, marigolds, and pansies. Probably with a cheeky message as an accompaniment- perhaps ‘saw you out and about, took a photo,’ or ‘is this you? I couldn’t tell.’ She does not send any.
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She sees a pair of woollen socks for sale in a store at the start of the Alleys. They look to be good quality: thick, soft, and inarguably a crime against fashion. Garish colours and pink unicorns decorate it- the combination of which seems designed to offend the eyes.
Leo finds her hunched over opposite the shop, giggling madly. Harry simply points to the socks, and then falls over from laughing harder. He does not ask why- simply raising an eyebrow and offering a hand. Harry intermittently collapses under giggles for the rest of the day.
She goes back a week later to buy the socks. She is disappointed to find that they were already sold just the day prior. She asks after the buyer- only to get the description of a dodgery old man with a long beard. She smiles, leaves the shop, walks home and into her room, and promptly collapses into wheezing laughter.
She pulls out a llama postcard from under her bed, which is the same sparkling pink as those unicorns. She keeps laughing.
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She ended up sending the memory potion to Edmund and Alesana with one of her postcards- transfigured to show Helsinki. She hopes they enjoy it. She wonders if the auror’s will be sent there. She does not want to find out.
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Harriet Lilliana Potter writes her second mental will when she is 17 (?)- the day before going to the prize ceremony. She leaves her potions notes to Professor Snape, her cloak to Leo, and the map to Addy in some twisted hope that maybe things will be different in ten years’ time. She leaves a collection of memories behind in a drawer under so many spells that she doubts even she could get it out again. The spells would be lifted upon her death. She thinks Archie would find them. He knows her well enough to figure it out.
On the morning before, she leaves a note stuck to the underside of her desk, to make things clearer. To explain some things- and to let the finder know where and what the potion in her drawers is.
She writes it on a postcard with a picture of Versailles on the front. She leaves to go to the prize ceremony. She tries her best to not look back.
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