Adventures of Harriet Potter

The Weighing of the Wands

When Harriet woke up on Sunday morning, it took her a moment to remember why she felt so miserable and worried. Then the memory of the previous night rolled over her. She sat up and ripped back the curtains of her own four-poster before storming to the boys dormitory, intending to talk to Ron, to force Ron to believe her — only to find that Ron's bed was empty; he had obviously gone down to breakfast. Harriet returned to her own dormitory, got dressed and went down the spiral staircase into the common room. The moment she appeared, the people who had already finished breakfast broke into applause again. The prospect of going down into the Great Hall and facing the rest of the Gryffindors, all treating her like some sort of hero, was not inviting; it was that, however, or stay here and allow herself to be cornered by the Creevey brothers, who were both beckoning frantically to her to join them. She walked resolutely over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, climbed out of it, and found herself face-to-face with Hermione.
"Hello," she said, holding up a stack of toast, which she was carrying in a napkin. "I brought you this. . . . Want to go for a walk?" Her tone indicating it would be a good idea. "Good idea," said Harriet gratefully. They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn toward the lake, where the Durmstrang ship was moored, reflected blackly in the water. It was a chilly morning, and they kept moving, munching their toast, as Harriet told Hermione exactly what had happened after she had left the Gryffindor table the night before. To her immense relief, Hermione still accepted her story without question.
"Well, of course I knew you hadn't entered yourself," she said when she'd finished telling her about the scene in the chamber off the Hall. "The look on your face when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who did put it in? Because Moody's right, Harriet . . . I don't think any student could have done it . . . they'd never be able to fool the goblet, or get over Dumbledore's —"
"Have you seen Ron?" Harriet interrupted. Hermione hesitated. "Erm . . . yes . . . he was at breakfast," she said. "Does he still think I entered myself?" Harriet asked. "Well . . . no, I don't think so . . . not really," said Hermione awkwardly. "What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?" asked Harriet. "Oh Harriet, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!" That was a shock for Harriet. "Jealous?" Harry said incredulously. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"
"Look," said Hermione patiently, "it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Harriet open her mouth furiously. "I know you don't ask for it . . . but — well — you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous — he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many. . . ."
"Great," said Harriet bitterly. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it. . . . People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go. . . ." Leaving out how she missed her parents, how she'd give anything to have at least one sibling. "I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said shortly. "Tell him yourself. It's the only way to sort this out."
"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harriet said, so loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm. "Maybe he'll believe I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or —" she shuddered at what might happen to her because of the bloody tournament and its bloody rules. "That's not funny," said Hermione quietly. "That's not funny at all." She looked extremely anxious. "Harriet, I've been thinking — you know what we've got to do, don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"
"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the —" Harriet started to say. "Write to Sirius. You've got to tell him what's happened. He asked you to keep him posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. . . . It's almost as if he expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out with me —" Hermione said. "Come off it," said Harriet, looking around to check that they couldn't be overheard, but the grounds were quite deserted. "He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone's entered me in the Triwizard Tournament —"
"He'd want you to tell him," said Hermione sternly. "He's going to find out anyway —" This confused Harriet. "How?" she asked with another look around them to be sure there weren't eavesdroppers around. "Harriet, this isn't going to be kept quiet," said Hermione, very seriously. "This tournament's famous, and you're famous. I'll be really surprised if there isn't anything in the Daily Prophet about you competing. . . . You're already in half the books about You-Know-Who, you know . . . and Sirius would rather hear it from you, I know he would."
"Okay, okay, I'll write to him," said Harriet, throwing her last piece of toast into the lake. They both stood and watched it floating there for a moment, before a large tentacle rose out of the water and scooped it beneath the surface. Then they returned to the castle. "Whose owl am I going to use?" Harriet said as they climbed the stairs. "He told me not to use Hedwig again." Trying to think it over. "Ask Ron if you can borrow —" Hermione began to suggest. "I'm not asking Ron for anything," Harriet said flatly. "Well, borrow one of the school owls, then, anyone can use them," said Hermione. They went up to the Owlery. Hermione gave Harriet a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink, then strolled around the long lines of perches, looking at all the different owls, while Harriet sat down against a wall and wrote her letter.