Adventures of Harriet Potter

The Whomping Willow

The end of the summer holidays came too quickly for Harriet's liking. She was looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but her month at the Burrow had been the happiest of her life. It was difficult not to feel jealous of Ron when she thought of the Dursleys and the sort of welcome she could expect next time she turned up on Privet Drive. Especially if Uncle Vernon continued punishing her for being a girl, particularly with what she now knew could happen to her from those 'punishments'. On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included all of Harriet's favorite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding. Fred and George rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; they filled the kitchen with red and blue stars that bounced from ceiling to wall for at least half an hour. Then it was time for a last mug of hot chocolate and bed. Harriet made sure all her belongings were packed in her trunk, her heart aching for the place she desperately wanted to call home.
It took a long while to get started next morning. They were up at dawn, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands; and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny's trunk to the car. Harriet couldn't see how eight people, six large trunks, two owls, and a rat were going to fit into one small Ford Anglia. She had reckoned, of course, without the special features that Mr. Weasley had added.
"Not a word to Molly," he whispered to Harriet as he opened the trunk and showed her how it had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily. She suspected that this was actually a normal enchantment that witches and wizards put on their cars, if they even had a car that is. When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat, where Harriet, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy were all sitting comfortably side by side, and said, "Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" She and Ginny got into the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?"
Mr. Weasley started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Harriet turning back for a last look at the house. She barely had time to wonder when she'd see it again when they were back — George had forgotten his box of Filibuster fireworks. Five minutes after that, they skidded to a halt in the yard so that Fred could run in for his broomstick. They had almost reached the highway when Ginny shrieked that she'd left her diary. By the time she had clambered back into the car, they were running very late, and tempers were running high. Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch and then at his wife. "Molly, dear —" he said slowly. "No, Arthur —" she said curtly. "No one would see — this little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed — that'd get us up in the air — then we fly above the clouds. We'd be there in ten minutes and no one would be any the wiser —" Mr. Weasley said in a pleading tone. "I said no, Arthur, not in broad daylight —" Mrs. Weasley said, ending the issue. Mr. Weasley looked defeated as he drove on.
They reached King's Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station. Harriet had caught the Hogwarts Express the previous year. The tricky part was getting onto platform nine and three-quarters, which wasn't visible to the Muggle eye. What you had to do was walk through the solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. It didn't hurt, but it had to be done carefully so that none of the Muggles noticed you vanishing.
"Percy first," said Mrs. Weasley, looking nervously at the clock overhead, which showed they had only five minutes to disappear casually through the barrier, load their things onto the train and board it before it left. Percy strode briskly forward and vanished. Mr. Weasley went next; Fred and George followed. "I'll take Ginny and you two come right after us," Mrs. Weasley told Harriet and Ron, grabbing Ginny's hand and setting off. In the blink of an eye they were gone. "Let's go together, we've only got a minute," Ron said to Harriet. Harriet made sure that Hedwig's cage was safely wedged on top of her trunk and wheeled her trolley around to face the barrier. She felt perfectly confident; this wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as using Floo powder. Both of them bent low over the handles of their trolleys and walked purposefully toward the barrier, gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and — CRASH!
Both trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backward; Ron's trunk fell off with a loud thump, Harriet was knocked off her feet, and Hedwig's cage bounced onto the shiny floor, and she rolled away, shrieking indignantly; people all around them stared and a guard nearby yelled, "What in blazes d'you think you're doing?" Harriet rubbed her head, making sure she hadn't hit it when she fell. "Lost control of the trolley," Harriet gasped, clutching her ribs as she got up. Ron ran to pick up Hedwig, who was causing such a scene that there was a lot of muttering about cruelty to animals from the surrounding crowd. "Why can't we get through?" Harriet hissed to Ron. "I dunno —" he said, just as confused as she was. Ron looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them.
"We're going to miss the train," Ron whispered. "I don't understand why the gateway's sealed itself —" Harriet looked up at the giant clock with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. Ten seconds . . . nine seconds . . . She wheeled her trolley forward cautiously until it was right against the barrier and pushed with all her might. The metal remained solid. Three seconds . . . two seconds . . . one second . . . "It's gone," said Ron, sounding stunned. "The train's left. What if Mum and Dad can't get back through to us? Have you got any Muggle money?" Harriet gave a hollow laugh. "The Dursleys haven't given me pocket money for about six years." Not since she'd bought a couple sweets from a shop and a book about a world of magic, only now realizing why they'd blown up at her for it. Ron pressed his ear to the cold barrier.
"Can't hear a thing," he said tensely. "What're we going to do? I don't know how long it'll take Mum and Dad to get back to us."
They looked around. People were still watching them, mainly because of Hedwig's continuing screeches. "I think we'd better go and wait by the car," said Harriet after quickly thinking and writing to Hogwarts about their situation and sending Hedwig off with the message. "We're attracting too much atten —" she started to say. "Harriet!" said Ron, his eyes gleaming. "The car!" Harriet was confused and nervous about the light in Ron's eyes. "What about it?" she asked wearily. "We can fly the car to Hogwarts!" Ron said, sounding mad in Harriet's ears. "But I thought —" she started, wanting to wait until Hedwig or help getting to school got back to them. "We're stuck, right? And we've got to get to school, haven't we? And even underage wizards are allowed to use magic if it's a real emergency, section nineteen or something of the Restriction of Thingy —" squirming uncomfortably Harriet made a note to look that up, just in case she needed it later.
"But your mum and dad . . ." said Harriet, pushing against the barrier again in the vain hope that it would give way. "How will they get home?" Using a good excuse to try and sway Ron from an action that would surely be seen by Muggles. "They don't need the car!" said Ron impatiently. "They know how to Apparate! You know, just vanish and reappear at home! They only bother with Floo powder and the car because we're all underage and we're not allowed to Apparate yet. . . ." Harry's feeling of panic turned suddenly to reluctant resignation. "Can you fly it?" she asked with a sigh. "No problem," said Ron, wheeling his trolley around to face the exit. "C'mon, let's go. If we hurry we'll be able to follow the Hogwarts Express —" And they marched off through the crowd of curious Muggles, out of the station and back onto the side road where the old Ford Anglia was parked.
Ron unlocked the cavernous trunk with a series of taps from his wand. They heaved their luggage back in, put Hedwig's cage on the back seat, and got into the front. "Check that no one's watching," said Ron, starting the ignition with another tap of his wand. Harriet stuck her head out of the window: Traffic was rumbling along the main road ahead, but their street was empty. "Okay," she said, only to realize too late that a Muggle was watching them and took a picture. Ron pressed a tiny silver button on the dashboard. The car around them vanished — and so did they. Harriet could feel the seat vibrating beneath her, hear the engine, feel her hands on her knees and her glasses on her nose, but for all she could see, she had become a pair of eyeballs, floating a few feet above the ground in a dingy street full of parked cars.
"Let's go," said Ron's voice from her right. And the ground and the dirty buildings on either side fell away, dropping out of sight as the car rose; in seconds, the whole of London lay, smoky and glittering, below them. Then there was a popping noise and the car, Harriet, and Ron reappeared. "Uh-oh," said Ron, jabbing at the Invisibility Booster. "It's faulty —" Harriet crossed her arms underneath her developing bubbies, ready for a tirade of 'I told you so' before deciding to try and help. Both of them pummeled it. The car vanished. Then it flickered back again. "Hold on!" Ron yelled, and he slammed his foot on the accelerator; they shot straight into the low, woolly clouds and everything turned dull and foggy. Harriet hoped their disappearing was the only photo the Muggle had gotten. "Now what?" said Harriet, blinking at the solid mass of cloud pressing in on them from all sides.
"We need to see the train to know what direction to go in," said Ron. "Dip back down again — quickly —" said Harriet, hoping no more Muggles would notice the flying car. They dropped back beneath the clouds and twisted around in their seats, squinting at the ground. "I can see it!" Harriet yelled. "Right ahead — there!" Pointing it out before being made aware of a cramping sensation in her abdomen, right about where her womb would be. She dismissed it, despite being worried, observing the train for a few moments. The Hogwarts Express was streaking along below them like a scarlet snake. "Due north," said Ron, checking the compass on the dashboard. "Okay, we'll just have to check on it every half hour or so — hold on —" And they shot up through the clouds. A minute later, they burst out into a blaze of sunlight. It was a different world. The wheels of the car skimmed the sea of fluffy cloud, the sky a bright, endless blue under the blinding white sun.
"All we've got to worry about now are aeroplanes," said Ron. They looked at each other and started to laugh; for a long time, they couldn't stop. It was as though they had been plunged into a fabulous dream. This, thought Harriet wistfully, was surely the only way to travel — past swirls and turrets of snowy cloud, in a car full of hot, bright sunlight, with a fat pack of toffees in the glove compartment, and the prospect of seeing Fred's and George's jealous faces when they landed smoothly and spectacularly on the sweeping lawn in front of Hogwarts castle.
They made regular checks on the train as they flew farther and farther north, each dip beneath the clouds showing them a different view. London was soon far behind them, replaced by neat green fields that gave way in turn to wide, purplish moors, a great city alive with cars like multicolored ants, villages with tiny toy churches. Several uneventful hours later, however, Harriet had to admit that some of the fun was wearing off. The toffees had made them extremely thirsty and they had nothing to drink. She and Ron had pulled off their jumpers, but Harriet's T-shirt was sticking to the back of her seat and her glasses kept sliding down to the end of her sweaty nose. She had stopped noticing the fantastic cloud shapes now and was thinking longingly of the train miles below, where you could buy ice-cold pumpkin juice from a trolley pushed by a plump witch. Why hadn't they been able to get onto platform nine and three-quarters? "Can't be much further, can it?" croaked Ron, hours later still, as the sun started to sink into their floor of cloud, staining it a deep pink. "Ready for another check on the train?"
It was still right below them, winding its way past a snowcapped mountain. It was much darker beneath the canopy of clouds.
Ron put his foot on the accelerator and drove them upward again, but as he did so, the engine began to whine. Harriet and Ron exchanged nervous glances. "It's probably just tired," said Ron. "It's never been this far before. . . ." Harriet seriously doubted it, but said nothing as her cramps were getting worse. And they both pretended not to notice the whining growing louder and louder as the sky became steadily darker. Stars were blossoming in the blackness. Harriet pulled her jumper back on, trying to ignore the way the windshield wipers were now waving feebly, as though in protest. "Not far," said Ron, more to the car than to Harriet, "not far now," and he patted the dashboard nervously.
When they flew back beneath the clouds a little while later, they had to squint through the darkness for a landmark they knew. "There!" Harriet shouted, making Ron and Hedwig jump. "Straight ahead!" Silhouetted on the dark horizon, high on the cliff over the lake, stood the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts castle. But the car had begun to shudder and was losing speed. "Come on," Ron said cajolingly, giving the steering wheel a little shake, "nearly there, come on —" The engine groaned. Narrow jets of steam were issuing from under the hood. Harriet found herself gripping the edges of her seat very hard as they flew toward the lake. The car gave a nasty wobble. Glancing out of her window, Harriet saw the smooth, black, glassy surface of the water, a mile below. Ron's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The car wobbled again.
"Come on," Ron muttered. They were over the lake — the castle was right ahead — Ron put his foot down. There was a loud clunk, a splutter, and the engine died completely. "Uh-oh," said Ron, into the silence. The nose of the car dropped. They were falling, gathering speed, heading straight for the solid castle wall. "Noooooo!" Ron yelled, swinging the steering wheel around; they missed the dark stone wall by inches as the car turned in a great arc, soaring over the dark greenhouses, then the vegetable patch, and then out over the black lawns, losing altitude all the time.
Ron let go of the steering wheel completely and pulled his wand out of his back pocket — "STOP! STOP!" he yelled, whacking the dashboard and the windshield, but they were still plummeting, the ground flying up toward them — "WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!" Harriet bellowed, lunging for the steering wheel, but too late —
CRUNCH.
With an earsplitting bang of metal on wood, they hit the thick tree trunk and dropped to the ground with a heavy jolt. Steam was billowing from under the crumpled hood; Hedwig would have been shrieking in terror if she'd been in her cage; a golf-ball-sized lump was throbbing on Harriet's head where she had hit the windshield; and to her right, Ron let out a low, despairing groan. "Are you okay?" Harriet said urgently. "My wand," said Ron, in a shaky voice. "Look at my wand —" It had snapped, almost in two; the tip was dangling limply, held on by a few splinters. Harriet opened her mouth to say she was sure they'd be able to mend it up at the school, not knowing much about broken wands, but she never even got started. At that very moment, something hit her side of the car with the force of a charging bull, sending her lurching sideways into Ron who sprawled on his back with his hands awkwardly on her bubbies, just as an equally heavy blow hit the roof.
"What's happen — ?" Harriet asked, freeing herself from the awkward situation that had her friend momentarily blushing as red as their hair. Ron gasped, staring through the windshield, and Harriet looked around just in time to see a branch as thick as a python smash into it. The tree they had hit was attacking them. Its trunk was bent almost double, and its gnarled boughs were pummeling every inch of the car it could reach. "Aaargh!" said Ron as another twisted limb punched a large dent into his door; the windshield was now trembling under a hail of blows from knuckle-like twigs and a branch as thick as a battering ram was pounding furiously on the roof, which seemed to be caving — "Run for it!" Ron shouted, throwing his full weight against his door, but next second he had been knocked backward into Harriet's lap by a vicious uppercut from another branch.
"We're done for!" he moaned as the ceiling sagged, but suddenly the floor of the car was vibrating — the engine had restarted. "Reverse!" Harriet yelled, and the car shot backward; the tree was still trying to hit them; they could hear its roots creaking as it almost ripped itself up, lashing out at them as they sped out of reach. "That," panted Ron, "was close. Well done, car —" The car, however, had reached the end of its tether. With two sharp clunks, the doors flew open and Harriet felt her seat tip sideways: Next thing she knew she was sprawled on the damp ground. Loud thuds told her that the car was ejecting their luggage from the trunk; Hedwig's cage flew through the air and burst open; empty of it's normal occupant. Then, dented, scratched, and steaming, the car rumbled off into the darkness, its rear lights blazing angrily.
"Come back!" Ron yelled after it, brandishing his broken wand. "Dad'll kill me!" But the car disappeared from view with one last snort from its exhaust. "Can you believe our luck?" said Ron miserably, bending down to pick up Scabbers. "Of all the trees we could've hit, we had to get one that hits back." He glanced over his shoulder at the ancient tree, which was still flailing its branches threateningly. "Come on," said Harriet wearily, "we'd better get up to the school. . . ." It wasn't at all the triumphant arrival they had pictured. Stiff, cold, and bruised, they seized the ends of their trunks and began dragging them up the grassy slope, toward the great oak front doors. "I think the feast's already started," said Ron, dropping his trunk at the foot of the front steps and crossing quietly to look through a brightly lit window. "Hey — Harriet — come and look — it's the Sorting!"
Harriet hurried over and, together, she and Ron peered in at the Great Hall. Innumerable candles were hovering in midair over four long, crowded tables, making the golden plates and goblets sparkle. Overhead, the bewitched ceiling, which always mirrored the sky outside, sparkled with stars. Through the forest of pointed black Hogwarts hats, Harriet saw a long line of scared-looking first years filing into the Hall. Ginny was among them, easily visible because of her vivid Weasley hair. Harriet again felt that strange squeezing in her chest while looking at Ginny. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall, a bespectacled witch with her hair in a tight bun, was placing the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat on a stool before the newcomers. Every year, this aged old hat, patched, frayed, and dirty, sorted new students into the four Hogwarts Houses (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin). Harriet well remembered putting it on, exactly one year ago, and waiting, petrified, for its decision as it muttered aloud in her ear. For a few horrible seconds she had feared that the hat was going to put her in Slytherin, the House that had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other — but she had ended up in Gryffindor, along with Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys. Last term, Harriet and Ron had helped Gryffindor win the House Championship, beating Slytherin for the first time in seven years.
A very small, mousy-haired boy had been called forward to place the hat on his head. Harriet's eyes wandered past him to where Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, sat watching the Sorting from the staff table, his long silver beard and half-moon glasses shining brightly in the candlelight. Several seats along, Harriet saw Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed in robes of aquamarine. And there at the end was Hagrid, huge and hairy, drinking deeply from his goblet. "Hang on . . ." Harriet muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table. . . . Where's Snape?" Professor Severus Snape was Harriet's least favorite teacher. Harriet also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own House (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions.
"Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully. "Maybe he's left," said Harriet, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!" Though part of her didn't believe that for a minute. "Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him —" Harriet felt a presence behind them. "Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't wait at the station for a response to your note." Harriet spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze, stood Severus Snape. He was a thin man with sallow skin, a hooked nose, and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment, he was smiling in a way that told Harriet she and Ron were in very deep trouble.
"Follow me," said Snape. Not daring even to look at each other, Harriet and Ron followed Snape up the steps into the vast, echoing entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches. A delicious smell of food was wafting from the Great Hall, but Snape led them away from the warmth and light, down a narrow stone staircase that led into the dungeons. "In!" he said, opening a door halfway down the cold passageway and pointing. They entered what Harriet realized was Snape's office, shivering. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Harriet didn't really want to know the name of at the moment. The fireplace was dark and empty. Snape closed the door and turned to look at them.
"So," he said softly, "waiting isn't good enough for the famous Harriet Potter and her faithful sidekick Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a bang, did we, boy and girl?" Harriet hung her head, ashamed she didn't make Ron wait until they heard back from the school. "No, sir, it was the barrier at King's Cross, it —" Ron tried quickly. "Silence!" said Snape coldly. "What have you done with the car?" Ron gulped. This wasn't the first time Snape had given Harriet the impression of being able to read minds. But a moment later, she understood, as Snape unrolled today's issue of the Evening Prophet. "You were seen," he hissed, showing them the headline: FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES. He began to read aloud: "Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower . . . at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing . . . Mr. Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police . . . Six or seven Muggles in all. I believe your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?" he said, looking up at Ron and smiling still more nastily. "Dear, dear . . . his own son . . ." Harriet felt as though she'd just been walloped in the stomach by one of the mad tree's larger branches. If anyone found out Mr. Weasley had bewitched the car . . . she hadn't thought of that. . . . She wanted to cry, some adoptive daughter she was turning out to be for the Weasleys. "I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow," Snape went on. "That tree did more damage to us than we —" Ron blurted out. "Silence!" snapped Snape again. "Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power. You will wait here."
Harriet and Ron stared at each other, white-faced. Harriet didn't feel hungry anymore. She now felt extremely sick, particularly as she felt something coming out of her nethers. A cold realization came upon her as she discovered she had started the process Mrs. Weasley had gotten her the Witching Hour kit for, she did her best to look like she wasn't expelling blood and slimy yuck from her girl parts. She was helped in this as she tried not to look at a large, slimy something suspended in green liquid on a shelf behind Snape's desk. If Snape had gone to fetch Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, they were hardly any better off. She might be fairer than Snape, but she was still extremely strict.
Ten minutes later, Snape returned, and sure enough it was Professor McGonagall who accompanied him. Harriet had seen Professor McGonagall angry on several occasions, but either she had forgotten just how thin her mouth could go, or she had never seen her this angry before. She raised her wand the moment she entered; Harriet and Ron both flinched, but she merely pointed it at the empty fireplace, where flames suddenly erupted. "Sit," she said, and they both backed into chairs by the fire. Harriet whimpered as she sat, feeling her knickers were being soaked through by her bodily process and her trousers would likely follow if she didn't get to a lavatory and deal with the problem soon. "Explain," she said, her glasses glinting ominously. Ron launched into the story, starting with the barrier at the station refusing to let them through.
"— so we had no choice, Professor, we couldn't get on the train." Ron said, thinking it was obvious they had no choice despite Harriet sending her beautiful and faithful Hedwig to the school with a letter explaining this part before they took the car. "Why didn't you wait, you sent us a letter by owl? I believe it was your owl?" Professor McGonagall said coldly to Harriet. Harriet gaped at her. Nodding affirmation, it had seemed the obvious thing to have done at the time. "I — I didn't think —" Ron said. "That," said Professor McGonagall, "is obvious." There was a knock on the office door and Snape, now looking happier than ever, opened it. There stood the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore.
Harriet's whole body went numb. Dumbledore was looking unusually grave. He stared down his very crooked nose at them, and Harriet suddenly found herself wishing she and Ron were still being beaten up by the Whomping Willow. There was a long silence. Then Dumbledore said, "Please explain why you did this." It would have been better if he had shouted. Harriet hated the disappointment in his voice. For some reason, she was unable to look Dumbledore in the eyes, and spoke instead to her knees. She told Dumbledore everything except that Mr. Weasley owned the bewitched car, making it sound as though she and Ron had happened to find a flying car parked outside the station. She knew Dumbledore would see through this at once, but Dumbledore asked no questions about the car. When Harriet had finished, he merely continued to peer at them through his spectacles.
"We'll go and get our stuff," said Ron in a hopeless sort of voice. "What are you talking about, Weasley?" barked Professor McGonagall. "Well, you're expelling us, aren't you?" said Ron.
Harriet looked quickly at Dumbledore. She felt something in her head, saw a brief tinge of pink on Dumbledore's cheeks and got the impression that reading minds was a magical skill that could be learned. "Not today, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore. "But I must impress upon both of you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to both your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you."
Snape looked as though Christmas had been canceled. He cleared his throat and said, "Professor Dumbledore, these children have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree — surely acts of this nature —" Harriet felt her temper flare, barely holding herself back from attacking Snape. "It will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on these boys' punishments, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "They are in her House and are therefore her responsibility." He turned to Professor McGonagall. "I must go back to the feast, Minerva, I've got to give out a few notices. Come, Severus, there's a delicious-looking custard tart I want to sample —"
Snape shot a look of pure venom at Harriet and Ron as he allowed himself to be swept out of his office, leaving them alone with Professor McGonagall, who was still eyeing them like a wrathful eagle. "You'd better get along to the hospital wing, Weasley, you're bleeding." said Professor McGonagall, Harriet pressed her legs together as she felt the first round of her problem stop. Hoping Professor McGonagall would notice and discreetly help her out with the situation. "Not much," said Ron, hastily wiping the cut over his eye with his sleeve. "Professor, I wanted to watch my sister being Sorted —"
"The Sorting Ceremony is over," said Professor McGonagall. "Your sister is also in Gryffindor." Harriet smiled at the news. "Oh, good," said Ron. "And speaking of Gryffindor —" Professor McGonagall said sharply, but Harry cut in: "Professor, when we took the car, term hadn't started, so — so Gryffindor shouldn't really have points taken from it — should it?" she finished, watching her anxiously. Hoping Professor McGonagall would catch the subtle hint she made emphasizing the word started. Professor McGonagall gave her a piercing look, but she was sure she had almost smiled. Her mouth looked less thin, anyway. "I will not take any points from Gryffindor," she said, and Harriet's heart lightened considerably. "But you will both get a detention."
It was better than Harriet had expected. As for Dumbledore's writing to the Dursleys, that was nothing. Harriet knew perfectly well they'd just be disappointed that the Whomping Willow hadn't squashed her flat. Professor McGonagall raised her wand again and pointed it at Snape's desk. A large plate of sandwiches, two silver goblets, and a jug of iced pumpkin juice appeared with a pop. Then there was a discreet, subtle, could have been a flourish while putting it away, and Harriet felt the yuck in her knickers vanish as if it hadn't been there. And the distinct discomfort of a piece of cotton stuffed inside of her. Harriet smiled in silent thank you. "You will eat in here and then go straight up to your dormitory," she said. "I must also return to the feast."
When the door had closed behind her, Ron let out a long, low whistle. "I thought we'd had it," he said, grabbing a sandwich. "So did I," said Harriet, taking one, too. "Can you believe our luck, though?" said Ron thickly through a mouthful of chicken and ham. "Fred and George must've flown that car five or six times and no Muggle ever saw them." He swallowed and took another huge bite. "Why couldn't we get through the barrier?" Harriet shrugged. "We'll have to watch our step from now on, though," she said, taking a grateful swig of pumpkin juice. "Wish we could've gone up to the feast. . . ." Tears flowing from her eyes for a moment before she reigned them in.
"She didn't want us showing off," said Ron sagely. "Doesn't want people to think it's clever, arriving by flying car."

When they had eaten as many sandwiches as they could (the plate kept refilling itself), they rose and left the office, treading the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower. The castle was quiet; it seemed that the feast was over. They walked past muttering portraits and creaking suits of armor, and climbed narrow flights of stone stairs, until at last they reached the passage where the secret entrance to Gryffindor Tower was hidden, behind an oil painting of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. "Password?" she said as they approached. "Er —" said Harriet. They didn't know the new year's first password, not having met a Gryffindor prefect yet, but help came almost immediately; they heard hurrying feet behind them and turned to see Hermione dashing toward them. "There you are! Where have you been? The most ridiculous rumors — someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying car —" Harriet almost smiled at her best friend. "Well, we haven't been expelled," Harriet assured her. "You're not telling me you did fly here?" said Hermione, sounding almost as severe as Professor McGonagall. "Skip the lecture," said Ron impatiently, "and tell us the new password."
"It's 'wattlebird,'" said Hermione impatiently, "but that's not the point —" Her words were cut short, however, as the portrait of the fat lady swung open and there was a sudden storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole of Gryffindor House was still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs, waiting for them to arrive. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Harriet and Ron inside, leaving Hermione to scramble in after them. "Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordan. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years —" Harriet wanted to groan, from both the news and a fresh cramp expelling yuck into the cotton inside of her. "Good for you," said a fifth year Harriet had never spoken to; someone was patting her on the back as though she'd just won a marathon; Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, "Why couldn't we've come in the car, eh?" Ron was scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but Harriet could see one person who didn't look happy at all. Percy was visible over the heads of some excited first years, and he seemed to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. Harriet nudged Ron in the ribs and nodded in Percy's direction. Ron got the point at once. "Got to get upstairs — bit tired," he said, and the two of them started pushing their way toward the doors on the other side of the room, which led to a spiral staircases and the dormitories. "'Night," Harriet called back to Hermione, who was wearing a scowl just like Percy's. Harriet gulped, knowing she'd hear it soon due to sharing a room with Hermione. They managed to get to the other side of the common room, still having their backs slapped, and gained the peace of the staircases. Harriet hurried up the girls staircase, right to the top, and at last reached the door of the old dormitory, which now had a sign on it saying SECOND YEARS. She entered the familiar, circular room, with its five four-posters hung with red velvet and its high, narrow windows. her trunk had been brought up for her and stood at the end of her bed. She took a moment to dig her kit out, feeling guilty for mentioning the car at the station. The dormitory door flew open and in came Hermione, who stopped before crossing her arms as she saw Harriet stuffing a fresh tampon — string side down — into herself. "I'm sorry Harriet, I didn't know. When did you — er, start?" said Hermione. Sighing wearily Harriet ran a hand through her hair while pulling up her knickers, pulling her jimjams on quickly. "Tonight, in the middle of Snape's office while the professors were deciding on how severe our punishment would be. It was awful and gross and my back hurts and. . . and. . . and —" Harriet started sobbing, Hermione quickly gave her a hug. The biggest reason behind Harriet's tears was the horrific realization, Uncle Vernon had almost made her a preteen mum. It had been a disturbingly close call for the young witch.