Adventures of Harriet Potter

The Forbidden Forest

Things couldn't have been worse. Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other around Harriet's brain, each more feeble than the last. She couldn't see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have been so stupid as to forget the Cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest Astronomy Tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the Invisibility Cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.
Had Harriet thought that things couldn't have been worse? She was wrong. When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville. "Harriet!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw the other two. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag —" Harriet shook her head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the three of them. "I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the Astronomy Tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."
It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue. Harriet wondered if saying they'd forgotten something during Astronomy class would work. She didn't think so, since it was Saturday not Wednesday or Thursday. "I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"
Harriet caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this wasn't true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering Neville — Harriet knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the dark, to warn them. "I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Miss Potter I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions — yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous — and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."
"Fifty?" Harriet gasped — they would lose the lead, the lead she'd won in the last Quidditch match. "Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose. "Professor — please —" said Hermione in desperate shock. "You can't —" Harriet tried. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students." said Professor McGonagall said with the full force of her stern anger.
A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the House Cup. Harriet felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. How could they ever make up for this? Harriet didn't sleep all night. She could imagine Neville sobbing into his pillow for what seemed like hours. Harriet couldn't think of anything to say to comfort him. She knew Neville, like herself, was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done? At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the House points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harriet Potter, the famous Harriet Potter, their heroine of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, her and a couple of other stupid first years.
From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harriet was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on her, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the House Cup. Everywhere Harriet went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted her. More than once Hermione found her crying in the lavatory. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as she walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one!"
Only Ron and Hermione stood by her. "They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them." said Ron trying to cheer her up. "They've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?" said Harriet miserably. "Well — no," Ron admitted. It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harriet swore to herself not to meddle in things that weren't her business from now on. She'd had it with sneaking around and spying. She felt so ashamed of herself that she went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.
"Resign?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?" But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harriet during practice, and if they had to speak about her, they called her "the Seeker." Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harriet, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence. Harriet was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying she had to do kept her mind off her misery, studying she would have done anyway. She, Ron, and Hermione kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions. . . .
Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harriet's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern her was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on her own one afternoon, she heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As she drew closer, she heard Quirrell's voice. "No — no — not again, please —" It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harriet moved closer. "All right — all right —" she heard Quirrell sob. Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Harriet didn't think Quirrell had even noticed her. She waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harriet was halfway toward it before she remembered what she'd promised herself about not meddling.
All the same, she'd have gambled twelve Philosopher's Stones that — though she seriously doubted he was involved beyond protecting the stone — Snape had just left the room, and from what Harriet had just heard, Snape would be walking with a new spring in his step — Quirrell seemed to have given in at last.
Harriet went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. Harriet told them what she'd heard. "Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell —"
"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione. "Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harriet?" The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harriet could. "Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure." she'd said sternly. "But we've got no proof!" said Harriet. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor — who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining." Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.
"If we just do a bit of poking around —" he started. "No," said Harriet flatly, "we've done enough poking around." She pulled a map of Jupiter toward her and started to pretend to learn the names of its moons. Having memorized a good chunk of them during class. The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same: