Adventures of Harriet Potter

The Hebridean Black

The prospect of talking face-to-face with Sirius was all that sustained Harriet over the next fortnight, the only bright spot on a horizon that had never looked darker. The shock of finding herself school champion had worn off slightly now, and the fear of what was facing her had started to sink in. The first task was drawing steadily nearer; she felt as though it were crouching ahead of her like some horrific monster, barring her path. She had never suffered nerves like these; they were way beyond anything she had experienced before a Quidditch match, not even her last one against Slytherin, which had decided who would win the Quidditch Cup. Harriet was finding it hard to think about the future at all; she felt as though her whole life had been leading up to, and would finish with, the first task. . . .
Admittedly, she didn't see how Sirius was going to make her feel any better about having to perform an unknown piece of difficult and dangerous magic in front of hundreds of people, but the mere sight of a friendly face would be something at the moment. Harriet wrote back to Sirius saying that she would be beside the common room fire at the time Sirius had suggested, and she and Hermione spent a long time going over plans for forcing any stragglers out of the common room on the night in question. If the worst came to the worst, they were going to drop a bag of Dungbombs, but they hoped they wouldn't have to resort to that — Filch would skin them alive.
In the meantime, life became even worse for Harriet within the confines of the castle, for Rita Skeeter had published her piece about the Triwizard Tournament, and it had turned out to be not so much a report on the tournament as a highly colored life story of Harriet. Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of Harriet; the article (continuing on pages two, six, and seven) had been all about Harriet, the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions (misspelled) had been squashed into the last line of the article, and Cedric hadn't been mentioned at all. The article had appeared ten days ago, and Harriet still got a sick, burning feeling of shame in her stomach every time she thought about it. Rita Skeeter had reported her saying an awful lot of things that she couldn't remember ever saying in her life, let alone in that broom cupboard.

I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now. . . . Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it. . . . I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me. . . . 

But Rita Skeeter had gone even further than transforming her "er's" and only real response into long, sickly sentences: She had interviewed other people about her too.

Harriet has at last found love at Hogwarts. Her close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harriet is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harriet, is one of the top students in the school. Scandalous for sure, the savior of the Wizarding World being interested in girls rather than boys. I'm not one to judge, since she should be free to love whomever she wants. She should just be careful as more old fashioned witches and wizards won't understand.

From the moment the article had appeared, Harriet had had to endure people — Slytherins, mainly — quoting it at her as she passed and making sneering comments. "Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?" Pansy Parkinson sneered with a laugh. "Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?" taunted Blaise Zabini. "My sister says she's available and thinks you're cute Potter." Theodore Nott said while laughing heartily. "Hey — Harriet!" said a voice. "Yeah, that's right!" Harriet found herself shouting as she wheeled around in the corridor, having had just about enough. "I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more. . . ."
"No — it was just — you dropped your quill." It was Cho. Harriet felt the color rising in her face. "Oh — right — sorry," she muttered, taking the quill back. "Er . . . good luck on Tuesday," she said. "I really hope you do well." Which left Harriet feeling extremely stupid, and thoroughly convinced that liking girls the way she did wasn't wrong at all. Hermione had come in for her fair share of unpleasantness too, but she hadn't yet started yelling at innocent bystanders; in fact, Harriet was full of admiration for the way she was handling the situation. "Stunningly pretty? Her?" Pansy Parkinson had shrieked the first time she had come face-to-face with Hermione after Rita's article had appeared. "What was she judging against — a chipmunk?"
"Ignore it," Hermione said in a dignified voice, holding her head in the air and stalking past the sniggering Slytherin girls as though she couldn't hear them. "Just ignore it, Harriet." But Harriet couldn't ignore it. Ron hadn't spoken to her at all since he had told her about Snape's detentions. Harriet had half hoped they would make things up during the two hours they were forced to pickle rats' brains in Snape's dungeon, but that had been the day Rita's article had appeared, which seemed to have confirmed Ron's belief that Harriet was really enjoying all the attention.
Hermione was furious with the pair of them; she went from one to the other, trying to force them to talk to each other, but Harriet was adamant: She would talk to Ron again only if Ron admitted that Harriet hadn't put her name in the Goblet of Fire and apologized for calling her a liar. "I didn't start this," Harriet said stubbornly. "It's his problem." Though she squirmed. "You miss him!" Hermione said impatiently. "And I know he misses you —"
"Miss him?" said Harriet. "I don't miss him. . . . " But this was a downright lie. Harriet liked Hermione very much, but she just wasn't the same as Ron. There was much less laughter and a lot more hanging around in the library when Hermione was your best friend. Harriet still hadn't mastered Summoning Charms, she seemed to have developed something of a block about them, and Hermione insisted that learning the theory would help. They consequently spent a lot of time poring over books during their lunchtimes.
Viktor Krum was in the library an awful lot too, and Harriet wondered what he was up to. Was he studying, or was he looking for things to help him through the first task? Hermione often complained about Krum being there — not that he ever bothered them — but because groups of giggling girls often turned up to spy on him from behind bookshelves, and Hermione found the noise distracting. "He's not even good-looking!" she muttered angrily, glaring at Krum's sharp profile. "They only like him because he's famous! They wouldn't look twice at him if he couldn't do that Wonky-Faint thing —" Sparking a mix of hurt and anger. "Wronski Feint," said Harriet, through gritted teeth. Quite apart from liking to get Quidditch terms correct, it caused her another pang to imagine Ron's expression if he could have heard Hermione talking about Wonky-Faints.