Adventures of Harriet Potter

The Firebolt

Harriet didn't have a very clear idea of how she had managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar, through the tunnel, and into the castle once more. All she knew was that the return trip seemed to take no time at all, and that she hardly noticed what she was doing, because her head was still pounding with the conversation she had just heard. Why had nobody ever told her? Dumbledore, Hagrid, Mr. Weasley, Cornelius Fudge . . . Why hadn't anyone ever mentioned the fact that Harriet's parents had died because their best friend had betrayed them?
Ron and Hermione watched Harriet nervously all through dinner, not daring to talk about what they'd overheard, because Percy was sitting close by them. When they went upstairs to the crowded common room, it was to find Fred and George had set off half a dozen Dungbombs in a fit of end-of-term high spirits. Harriet, who didn't want Fred and George asking her whether she'd reached Hogsmeade or not, sneaked quietly up to the empty dormitory and headed straight for her bedside cabinet. She pushed her books aside and quickly found what she was looking for — the leather-bound photo album Hagrid had given her two years ago, which was full of wizard pictures of her mother and father. She sat down on her bed, drew the hangings around her, and started turning the pages, searching, until . . .
She stopped on a picture of his parents' wedding day. There was her father waving up at her, beaming, the untidy black hair Harriet had inherited the untidiness of standing up in all directions. There was her mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with her dad. And there . . . that must be him. Their best man . . . Harriet had never given him a thought before. If she hadn't known it was the same person, she would never have guessed it was Black in this old photograph. His face wasn't sunken and waxy, but handsome, full of laughter. Had he already been working for Voldemort when this picture had been taken? Was he already planning the deaths of the two people next to him? Did he realize he was facing twelve years in Azkaban, twelve years that would make him unrecognizable?
But the dementors don't affect him, Harriet thought, staring into the handsome, laughing face. He doesn't have to hear my mum screaming if they get too close — Harriet slammed the album shut, reached over and stuffed it back into her cabinet, took off her robe and glasses and got into bed, making sure the hangings were hiding her from view. The dormitory door opened. "Harriet?" said Hermione's voice uncertainly. But Harriet lay still, pretending to be asleep. She heard Hermione leave again, and rolled over on her back, her eyes wide open.
A hatred such as she had never known before was coursing through Harriet like poison. She could see Black laughing at her through the darkness, as though somebody had pasted the picture from the album over her eyes. She watched, as though somebody was playing her a piece of film, Sirius Black blasting Peter Pettigrew (who resembled Neville Longbottom for some reason) into a thousand pieces. She could hear (though having no idea what Black's voice might sound like) a low, excited mutter. "It has happened, my Lord . . . the Potters have made me their Secret-Keeper. . . ." And then came another voice, laughing shrilly, the same laugh that Harriet heard inside her head whenever the dementors drew near. . . .

"Harriet, you — you look terrible." Hermione said worriedly. Harriet hadn't gotten to sleep until daybreak. She had awoken to find the dormitory deserted, dressed, and gone down the spiral staircase to a common room that was completely empty except for Ron, who was eating a Peppermint Toad and massaging his stomach, and Hermione, who had spread her homework over three tables. "Where is everyone?" said Harriet. "Gone! It's the first day of the holidays, remember?" said Ron, watching Harriet closely. "It's nearly lunchtime; I was going to come and wake you up in a minute." said Hermione, who was watching Harriet just as closely.
Harriet slumped into a chair next to the fire. Snow was still falling outside the windows. Crookshanks was spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger rug. "You really don't look well, you know," Hermione said, peering anxiously into her face. "I'm fine," said Harriet. "Harriet, listen," said Hermione, exchanging a look with Ron, "you must be really upset about what we heard yesterday. But the thing is, you mustn't go doing anything stupid."
"Like what?" said Harriet. "Like trying to go after Black," said Ron sharply. Harriet could tell they had rehearsed this conversation while she had been asleep. She didn't say anything. She was angry, hurting and didn't want to listen to the side of her that kept telling her she only had one side of the story. "You won't, will you, Harriet?" said Hermione. "Because Black's not worth dying for," said Ron. Harriet looked at them. They didn't seem to understand at all. "D'you know what I see and hear every time a dementor gets too near me?" Ron and Hermione shook their heads, looking apprehensive. "I can hear my mum screaming and pleading with Voldemort. And if you'd heard your mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn't forget it in a hurry. And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and sent Voldemort after her —" Harriet was nearly shouting, tears in her eyes as she let it out. Leaving out how she relived every time Uncle Vernon violated her. "There's nothing you can do!" said Hermione, looking stricken. "The dementors will catch Black and he'll go back to Azkaban and — and serve him right!"
"You heard what Fudge said. Black isn't affected by Azkaban like normal people are. It's not a punishment for him like it is for the others." Harriet said angrily, still crying because the empty place in her heart where her parents should be hurt as raw as it should've when she was a baby. "So what are you saying?" said Ron, looking very tense. "You want to — to kill Black or something?" Harriet had to admit to herself, it didn't sound like a bad idea. Even though part of her was pleading for her to be reasonable, to give Black a chance to tell his side of the story.
"Don't be silly," said Hermione in a panicky voice. "Harriet doesn't want to kill anyone, do you, Harriet?" Again, Harriet didn't answer. She didn't know what she wanted to do. All she knew was that the idea of doing nothing, while Black was at liberty, was almost more than she could stand. Then she realized. "Malfoy knows," she said abruptly. "Remember what he said to me in Potions? 'If it was me, I'd hunt him down myself. . . . I'd want revenge.'"
"You're going to take Malfoy's advice instead of ours?" said Ron furiously. "Listen . . . you know what Pettigrew's mother got back after Black had finished with him? Dad told me — the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Pettigrew's finger in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find. Black's a madman, Harriet, and he's dangerous —" That was news to her, especially when she knew most explosion curses left bigger pieces than that. "Malfoy's dad must have told him," said Harriet, partially ignoring Ron. "He was right in Voldemort's inner circle —"
"Say You-Know-Who, will you?" interjected Ron angrily. "— so obviously, the Malfoys knew Black was working for Voldemort —" she said, ignoring the part of her that said they could also prove Black's innocence. "— and Malfoy'd love to see you blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew! Get a grip. Malfoy's just hoping you'll get yourself killed before he has to play you at Quidditch."
"Harriet, please," said Hermione, her eyes now shining with tears, "please be sensible. Black did a terrible, terrible thing, but d-don't put yourself in danger, it's what Black wants. . . . Oh, Harriet, you'd be playing right into Black's hands if you went looking for him. Your mum and dad wouldn't want you to get hurt, would they? They'd never want you to go looking for Black!"
"I'll never know what they'd have wanted, because thanks to Black, I've never spoken to them," said Harriet shortly. There was a silence in which Crookshanks stretched luxuriously, flexing his claws. Ron's pocket quivered. "Look," said Ron, obviously casting around for a change of subject, "it's the holidays! It's nearly Christmas! Let's — let's go down and see Hagrid. We haven't visited him for ages!" Harriet perked up a little. "No!" said Hermione quickly. "Harriet isn't supposed to leave the castle, Ron —"
"Yeah, let's go," said Harriet, sitting up, "and I can ask him how come he never mentioned Black when he told me all about my parents!" Further discussion of Sirius Black plainly wasn't what Ron had had in mind. "Or we could have a game of chess," he said hastily, "or Gobstones. Percy left a set —" Harriet stood up and stretched. "No, let's visit Hagrid," said Harriet firmly. So they got their cloaks from their dormitories and set off through the portrait hole ("Stand and fight, you yellow-bellied mongrels!"), down through the empty castle and out through the oak front doors.
They made their way slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering, powdery snow, their socks and the hems of their cloaks soaked and freezing. The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted, each tree smattered with silver, and Hagrid's cabin looked like an iced cake. Ron knocked, but there was no answer. "He's not out, is he?" said Hermione, who was shivering under her cloak. Ron had his ear to the door. "There's a weird noise," he said. "Listen — is that Fang?" Harriet and Hermione put their ears to the door too. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans.
"Think we'd better go and get someone?" said Ron nervously. "Hagrid!" called Harriet, thumping the door. "Hagrid, are you in there?" There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood there with his eyes red and swollen, tears splashing down the front of his leather vest. "Yeh've heard?" he bellowed, and he flung himself onto Harriet's neck. Hagrid being at least twice the size of a normal man, this was no laughing matter. Harriet, about to collapse under Hagrid's weight, was rescued by Ron and Hermione, who each seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him back into the cabin. Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, sobbing uncontrollably, his face glazed with tears that dripped down into his tangled beard. "Hagrid, what is it?" said Hermione, aghast.
Harriet spotted an official-looking letter lying open on the table. "What's this, Hagrid?" she asked. Hagrid's sobs redoubled, but he shoved the letter toward Harriet, who picked it up and read aloud: