Chapter 2: Gutters and Gutturals

A/N: So, hell. Really, guys? Seventy-something follows in what, eight days? Five days? This is bloody amazing! Literally, I just can't. To be honest, currently my life is shit – our train seats weren't confirmed and im in another city in the middle of someone's living room, who is someone's someone. So this is the best thing that could've happened to me.

And im kinda stressed about my upcoming immigration to only-I-know-where, so stress is kinda high. Also I posted Harriet's rough sketch on my image manager, dunno if you can see or no.

So, let's get on with this chapter. See, now that the intro-short chapters are over, I'll start the real story, which means real chapters with real monologue. I'm all fired up!

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Men judge generally more by the eye than by the hand, for everyone can see and few can feel. Every one sees what you appear to be, few really know what you are.

- Niccolo Machiavelli.

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"Ironically, his next seven years were the most frustrating, jealous and anger stimulating years of his life. He pursued me more frantically than anyone else, yes he had fooled around, but couldn't help the ugly emotions seeing me fool around."

"He had been so captivated by my openness, my apathy, that when he discovered my masks and my web's it had been to late – like a moth attracted to the flame, he had charged into my flames bound to burned cold by my icy black flames."

"I had been the wolf in human skin, and had devoured the little red riding hood. I had torn him apart, tangled him in my webs of decay, the knife sharp edges digging in his bones so deep, that by the time he had noticed it was too late. "

"The webs had reached his bones and melded with his own – changing his to my whims. And like the naïve little sheep, he had enjoyed my warmth – even when he was being roasted."

"Even when he was demolished and in my system, about to be digested by the same warm flames."

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"Girl, are you taking me for a fool!?"

Spit narrowly missed my face, the red bloated face of my walrus of an uncle in front my face – veins bulging and teeth snapping together. Disgust coursed through me -making it apparent to both of us as my disgusted grimace followed the flying, offending liquid that narrowly missed my face. How fucking unclean, literally, was this man raised in a pigsty? I won't be surprised, honestly.

"It's a school for magic. What were you expecting? Big neon sign, pointing 'Here Magical folks, trains to your exclusive super-secret school here'? Not that it wouldn't be expected from you, uncle."

His face was now an alarming shade of purple and maroon, he leaned in close, fingers twitching. "Remember girl, you might be off to that freak show now, but you are to live in my house. Be glad, that we're outside." then stormed off, leaving me all alone on a train station, without any help. Such a fucking gentleman, so nice of him.

Sighing, I pushed up my round glasses that were about to slip down my nose. My hair was open – exposing my scar and eyes to all the world. Dressed in simple tights and a button down. This day wasn't the best, yet the excitement was bubbling inside me like a pit of active volcano. Today was the day my grubby hands and eyes would experience the proof of my second existence, I could hardly wait.

A small grin on my lips, I hustled in to the wall.

My magic roared inside of my veins – buzzing, prominent and very much alive. The tingling of the spell and magic brushed against my skin like the softest satin sheet, brief but prominent enough to tell me that magic was very much real and I was now a part of it. My face threatened to break due to the wide grin it was covered in.

Holy mother fucking son of a shit.

This was no joke – I'm in Harry potter, I'm living in Harry Potter and Hell, I am Harry Potter. A female version, but still Harry Potter's body nonetheless. Im going to Hogwarts and going to learn potions and spells and charms and hexes and curses and divination and magic, I honestly felt like my veins were filled with liquid power because, at this moment I felt as if the world just tilted.

And I was at its center.

"Mom, mom! Look at that scar. It's Harriet Potter!"

"Is that? Henry, look! It's Harriet Potter!"

"Harriet Potter? Here!?"

"Look, she really does have two eye colours!"

"Look at her eyes, and that scar! There's no mistaking it. That is Harriet Potter."

The poorly hidden whispers of the crowd around me swarmed in, breaking me from my stupor. A slight grimace broke out on my face, now I think maybe baring my forehead to the world wasn't the best ideas. Screw that, it was a bad idea. Hastily, I ripped out my hair from the clips near my ear, a thick tuff of hair free – barely covering my scar.

Hey, I don't want prominent attention, but I still want some attention – it's kind of healthy for a narcissist like me. I pushed my trolley in front of the train, escaping in the crowd around me, away from the aware. I was fifteen minutes early to the station, so it wasn't as crowded. Also, I'm not very sure if I want to follow the plot not related to the battles.

Honestly, I don't think that Ron and I would be the best of the friends, because I'm pretty damned sure that I won't be a Gryffindor. Why make connections if they can't be kept alive for more than a few moments – Ron's character was pretty narrow minded, so him tolerating me wasn't very possible. Maybe.

And then there was the fact that I could be a slytherin, which absolutely cannot happen. I might be a bitch with a capital B, but I still won't step into the house of Lily's murderer, other than that, Slytherin was cool. (Because if not for my thirst of knowledge there would be no other house I could stay in.)

Tugging the heavy enchanted trunk, I tried to not heave. These are the moment's I miss my boxer's body – the broad shoulders, the muscles, and the strength. I'll have to work my ass off to get those back… how troublesome.

"Crawnk, Crawnk!"

A low gurgling croak rung out as a particularly harsh tug had the trunk come on the train, I dragged it to the lone compartment near the end of the train. Beady light blue eyes looked right into my hetrochromic ones. Black tuff of sharp feathers covered his Lilith body, as black as a void. Hooked beak opened again producing low gurgles, conveying his annoyance at being jostled around.

"Well, pardon me Muninn. So sorry, I jostled you while carrying a shit ton heavy trunk." The raven snorted, fluffed his feather and went back to observing his surroundings. His tail feathers rhythmically caressing the edge of my right hand as if a silent companion. He might as well be.

Apparently Canon!Hedwig wasn't what Hagrid thought I was into – which to be frank is true, bloody owls with their stupid eyes, stupid feathers and stupid beaks – so instead the giant got me a raven. It had to do with something about a definite 'Ravenclaw'. Even if its bird is an eagle not a raven, not like I'm complaining – Muninn was a sardonic, intelligent, not-an-owl darling.

Because of its black plumage, croaking call and diet of carrion, the raven is often associated with loss and ill omen. Yet its symbolism is complex. As a talking bird, the raven also represents prophecy and insight. Ravens in stories often act as psychopomps, connecting the material world with the world of spirits. Also, In Greek mythology, ravens are associated with Apollo, the god of prophecy. They are said to be a symbol of bad luck, and were the god's messengers in the mortal world.

A structuralist theory that suggests the raven (like the coyote) obtained mythic status because it was a mediator animal between life and death. As a carrion bird, ravens became associated with the dead and with lost souls. In Swedish folklore, they are the ghosts of murdered people without Christian burials and, in German stories, damned souls. Honestly? I was worried about Hagrid knowing something he shouldn't. But, I'm pretty sure he doesn't know about the damned sous part, so no getting rid of our friendly neighborhood giant. For now.

Oh, and he was an Australian Raven, too. How did he get that in the middle of a magical establishment? Hell as if I know.

So me being me, channeled my inner troll and named the intelligent bird Muninn – memory. I wonder what would've happened if I was reborn in Avengers or something? Like a Fem!Tony Stark? Anyway. The thing was Muninn looked alarmingly intimidating – especially to Dudley – and we got together too.

I slumped down the fluffy, comfy seat - legs miles apart, head thrown back and hands between my thighs. A lazy contemplating glint shone through my eyes, I had been feeling quite sluggish, whether to snooze or groove? Hands flittered near the lock of my trunk, thinking whether or not is repacking worth another reading fest.

Sadly, I never got to make the decision, seeing that a certain someone decide to grace me with her presence.

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"What in the name are you wearing?" a snobby, snarky voice called out as a figure gracefully plopped itself in my compartment. A dark glower came on my lips as hetrochromic eyes – one of which was along with a certain scar covered with thick tuffs of hair, shielding my identity from Pansy Parkinson.

What is with me and attracting dark characters? Do I have like, a selectively visible stamp on myself claiming 'Are you to be a Dark lord's Future servant? Bug this girl here for brownie points for credits!" Or not. Whatever.

"Clothes." I grunted and closed my eyes, hands preoccupying themselves with petting Muninn's feathers. "What is that repulsive thing!?" a high shriek tore through the air, snapping me out from my blank thought phase, ears started with the soprano of the voice. "It a raven." I gritted out, barely keeping myself from snarling.

"Raven? Well the bloody thing looks like an ugly crow. And those eyes, Uggh…" a pretty little grimace came over her face, pretty little face that might just get broken if she doesn't shut the fuck up. "It's a raven, not a crow." A huff left her lips as she peered down at me from her eyes, as if suddenly realizing something important. Her pretty brown eyes scrutinized me thoroughly, a sudden widening of eyes and a disgusted look on her face.

Honestly, if she was any older I would've punched her in the titts. And then, maybe, ravish her against the compartment door. Meh, damn this child-body. Her mouth opened to spew poison.

"What are you?" An eyebrow twitched under the thick tuffs of hair. "Human." I would definitely deny snarling at her, as her face changed into a persona of annoyance. "Don't be daft! I meant your blood. I am a Pureblood, what are you?" In and out, musntbreakthenoseofthisbrat, huuuuuff. Im cool, Im calm and Im positively not murderous.

"Half blood." Her upturned nose, turned even more upwards with a slight grimace on her pretty annoyingly cute face. And not in a good way, too. I tuned out her rant about how it was barely acceptable, hand back at Muninn's feathery head – he too looked as if he would bite her lips off. "Pansy! There you are. We've been looking all over for you." An aristocratic voice rang out as yet another brat gracefully perched next to the dark skinned annoyance of a future-bombshell.

She daintily brushed her wispy, honeyed locks behind looked into my visible green eye. "And you are?" the question was questioned politely enough, but the faint disdain and apprehension for the 'muggle' clothing wasn't lost. "Harry." I continued my trend of one worded answers, eyes narrowed and a faint snarl visibly aimed at her dainty hand.

Was it this shitty back at my school? Or was it just like this in the old day? Maybe I should shake her hand and then wipe my own? Sadly, I was once again cut off as Pansy started to reassure that 'Even if I didn't look like it, I was okay to stay with, for now.' Wow, fuck you too pansy, fuck you too.

Jesus, I haven't even hit puberty now, what the fuck will happen later on? I seriously don't wanna have AID's because of my very smooth drive, or that shit. Shit, Mind? Get out of the gutter, thank you. "There you lot are! I swear to merlin this place is infested with idiots." Oh no… oh nooooooo.

Nope, nah-nah, nuh-uh. Why? Why god, why? Merlin, why? Satan? Satan take the wheel! This shit just cannot be happening to me. How the hell is this happening? I was kidding about the damned sing, but maybe I should cover myself or something. Wait, once again, why Jesus? WHY?

I cringed, and curled into myself, praying not to be noticed by this brat. The brat and his two goon of brats yet again made their way into my compartment, Bratty brat sitting like a mini king between his two, now giggling and shrieking, wenches and his goons by my side – it was kind of like hierarchy. The lowly on one side and the monarch's on another. Normally I would puff out my feathers to establish my dominance, but I was currently trying to hide, so nope.

"We were waiting for you, Drake! I found this compartment then, although it was already taken by this Half-Blood." Was it just me, or did she suddenly a bit bitchier? This girl wasn't even a freaking teen, what the hell is she doing displaying her 'supposedly' dominance? Man, this was going to be shit. Oh wait, oh shit, he's looking at me. No, no don't look at me! Dammit turn the hell around!

No shit prevail.

"A Half-Blood? Well who are you?"

Wait, play it cool. I didn't tell him my name before, so if I pretend to be shy, then maybe this might work. "Harry." I muttered, voice a pitch higher. Immediately I felt the two girl's eye's narrow on my frame, cogs of mind turning. Oh shit, this going even worse isn't it!? Welp. Playing shy was not going to help me here, I decided. Better get this shit over with.

I suddenly loosened from my little ball, legs parting and hands loose between thighs, face cool and eyes lax – uncaring and apathetic as they were before this brat came in. Automatically my mind supplied me with background music, which was my default response to nervousness or anxiety or annoyance, basically a move to make me calm.

Told you not to worry

But maybe that's a lie

Honey, what's your hurry?

Won't you stay inside?

Remember not to get too close to stars

They're never gonna give you love like ours

Oh that's kinda ironic, thank you brain, doing a wonderful job out here. It was as if watching glass falling down in slow mo. He didn't really recognize me, but then his eyes sharply widened and a dumbfounded expression found way on his face. "It's you!" Draco Lucius Malfoy screamed, his fingers pointing at my non-existing chest. I slowly arched an eyebrow – scrutinizing him. "Who are you?" I snarked, voice drenched and finally breaking the one worded answers trend.

"It's me, Draco!" Yeah, and can you like, please not? This sounds like a cliché romance-fluff book, and I'm cringing. "Who's Draco?" The perplexion in my voice was on point and so was the girl's mean bitch face. Man, I should fund in some of them, just in case I fail magic and become a hobo. Which, is practically, never happening. "Draco? Remember? Draco Malfoy? We met in Madam Malkin's and you told me you're going in Ravenclaw! It's me, the broom guy!"

So, where did you go?

I should know, but it's cold

And I don't wanna be lonely

So tell me you'll come home

Even if it's just a lie

I could almost laugh at the face he was making – seriously, why was Draco so adamant on my acknowledgement? I was no fool, I knew back in the boutique that he was trying hard to capture my attention, and I was purposely not paying him attention, so why? Maybe… Maybe a puppy crush? Or the typical first-girl-to-not-give-me-attention?

I squinted my eyes and then nodded. "Nah, don't remember you. Are you sure I'm the right person?" I asked nonchalantly, stroking Muninn's agitated head with soft strokes of bony fingers. "Drake, do you know this… Half-blood?" Daphne Greengrass asked, breaking the stony silence. "We meet in a boutique – she's okay." Yeah, I'm okay – definitely okay without you having to say.

"Hey, how does the trunks go to our Dom's?" I asked, before Pansy could say anything. Goyle shifted and Crabbe grunted. "Of course you wouldn't know, you're a half blood. The trunks are taken by magic – they simply arrive." Pansy's snobby voice answered as my eyes glinted maliciously. "So what happens if someone tries to open another person's trunk in the train without permission?"

"Isn't it obvious? They can't open another's trunk or belongings without permission." Daphne beated Pansy to this one as they both batted their eyelashes at Draco. Draco, who had tried to answer my questions but was beaten by the girls, looked irritated and shot a look at his two goons. What the hell is this brat up to? Is he gonna beat me up or something? Not cool. Not cool.

Nah, this was something deeper.

The world's a little blurry

Or maybe it's my eyes

The friends I've had to bury

They keep me up at night

Said I couldn't love someone

'Cause I might break

If you're gonna die, not by mistake

The two hulking boy's got up grunting, Goyle wiping the chocolate from his lips. Oh no, is this what I think it is? I hope not. Draco, that shit, got up from his seat, where now sat his goon's along with the girls – all barley managing to sit on the bench. The boy swaggered next to me, his knees bumping into mine. This little shit, now those bratesses are looking at me with murder in their eyes.

How fucking quaint.

"So, do you still wanna go to Ravenclaw? I'm pretty sure you can make it to Slytherin." Um, hello? How the fuck would you know that? "It's a shame were not allowed to bring brooms but you can ride mine next year, what do you say?"

Shit, mind! Get out of the damned gutter, the boy's not even a boy yet! What the fuck is up with me? Im disgusting! I need to get the hell away from here, and Muninn, the ever so intelligent one, glared at me with his blue eyes, as if saying 'Don't you dare, human.' I looked back at him. Sorry friend, but I just can't. Narrowly escaping his beak, I jumped onto my feet, patting my knees and tugging out my uniform sack.

"I'll be back in a moment."

Scurrying off, I tuned out Draco's voice and rushed into the nearby bathrooms. I changed my clothes, a calculating face prominent, no doubt. So it wasn't just my over-paranoid self, Malfoy was being OOC. Draco Malfoy was a person who does things that leads to his gain, so why would he do that? It had to be OOC… unless it isn't.

But I hadn't revealed my identity, so what could he gain from me? What would a girl… hmm. I wonder, I wonder. Shaking my head, I cleared my head for now. With a resolved shake of my head, I took ahold of my clips, pinning the thick tuffs away from my face. My eyes and scar stood prominent against my pale skin along with the suddenly more noticeable freckles.

Time to blow shit up.

I lazily made my way back, paying no mind to the barely audible background music in my mind. I was in control, and it's time to show the bigger dick and display the true owner of dominance – the Alpha's in the town, bitches. I threw the compartment door pen, dropping down and stuffing my sack in the trunk, dodging Muninn's beak – clothes changed into the usual uniform – except the loose collar, unbuttoned first buttons and low tie. Oh, and the slick-backed ponytail along with low riding glasses.

"You… You're Harriet Potter!" Draco's voice cut off my inner monologue. I gave him an oppressing glance, "Huh. So you do know me." No need to make it easy for him to get whatever he wants, now that I'm sure he's not going OOC. "You are Harriet Potter? But didn't you say that you were Harry? You lied to me!" Daphne's red face looked accusingly at me.

What is this, a Spanish opera?

"I am Harry. Harriet James belladonna Lilly Potter – or just Harry for short. Im okay with James as well." I muttered, sealing my identity as the offending scar around my head pulsed slightly. Pansy preened, a smug grin on her lips, "See? I knew that she was someone important! Didn't I Harry?" Oh so I'm Harry now? Good Pansy, good. Not that I could say something – I was just like her, maybe even worse.

Pssh, details. Anyway, time for non-slytherin minion hunting!

I got up, brushing off malfoy's hands from mine's. "Hey! Where you going, Harriet? Come on! I have to tell you all about my brooms and my father's mansion and my gifts! We didn't get time to talk earlier, too." Draco's whine echoed in my ear – so he wants me to be familiar with him, now even more so – "Yeah, and I have to tell you about my personal make-up too! Daphne, tell her!" Pansy claimed – suddenly eager too.

"Well, the Greengrass mansion does have a wonderful pool and fountain." She chimed suddenly cool and calm, Goyle the poor dear, offered me his chocolate as Crabbe grunted at me. Nah, still not worth having my ear's talked off.

"Maybe later. I heard the older students talking about some interesting spells." Was my half-assed response But it was true – I had heard Cedric Diggory and some Ravenclaw guy talking about a spell on something vaguely related to helping point out mistakes in potions. Twisting and turning, I eavesdropped along, and stopped in front of the cabinet full of hufflepuffs and some ravenclaws.

Time to shine, and I'm a godamned supernova.

"People here can actually mistake a bat liver for a rat liver? So amazing." I snarked leaning against the door. All eyes turned to my form, eyes scanning my face and the widening upon looking in my eyes. "You're Harry Potter!" Gasped out the fifteen year old Penelope Clearwater, eyes shrewdly glinting. "Wow. I'm sensing a trend here. Blubbery?" I asked popping out a bag of fresh blueberries from my robes.

"Yeah, you're kind of popular here. I'm Cedric Diggory, by the way."

The fourteen year old Cedric Diggory smiled a boyish smile at me, myself returning a crooked smirk. "So is it true? Can you actually make a potion to stop death?" I asked, voice full of genuine curiosity. The older Ravenclaw girl brightened, exchanging glance with the two male ravenclaws – one fifth year like her and another fourth year.

"Yes, it's a potion. However it is debatable on the topic of arthimatic equations about the expectancy of the potion itself – a hyper potion, so to speak." Mused the older, ginger haired male Ravenclaw. "I'm Matthew Jorden." He added, later "That's Penelope Clearwater and this is Carl Johnson."

"Nice to meet 'cha. Im Harriet Potter, but just call me Harry. Or James – I don't mind either." The other Hufflepuffs then snapped out of their daze and soon enough I was seated between the ravenclaws, asking about anything and everything. "Whoa." A Hufflepuff girl named Sasha Brays muttered, "Did you really read all of this in the previous week? Or were you sneaking books from Wizarding world?" she teased, a bit baffled out of her brunette head seeing how a first year – not even sorted, could question much more than her – a fourth year.

"It's quite interesting, actually. I just couldn't stop myself from buying more books – the pull was too strong." I teased back, as the ravenclaws chuckled. "Well, at least we know which house she's going to be in." mused Matthew as Carl high-fived me. "Oi! She could be a Hufflepuff." Vivian Ralladry, another Hufflepuff fourth year said, a fake look of anger on his pale face.

"Somehow, I find that a bit difficult to imagine. Poor Connor here, can barely manage his potion's essay." Carl cooed at the sandy blonde Hufflepuff, who in return chucked a piece of chocolate frog at him. "Hey, Connor's smart!" Cedric argued, but the weak smile on his face told us that a laugh threatened to come out. "Yeah, right." Penelope muttered.

"At least, I don't shank Percy weasely in the broom closet." Connor McCain sneered a teasing glint in his brown eyes. Carl gasped, white-blonde eyebrows raised high on his tanned face. "Well…" I cut in before anyone could say anything, "Now you can say that you guys came out the closet. Congrats, dude." Laughter rang among the cabin, Penelope covering her pale face, mortified."You, little shit." Matthew wheezed, "Yeah, that one's definitely a raven, guys." Cedric breathed out – face tinged red.

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"Hey, I'm going to take her to the other guys, we'll be back in a bit." Carl said, pulling me up, as we stumbled out of the door, he was adamant on me meeting the rest of 'My going to be house'. His older frame towered over my bony one. "So, what are you? Im apparently a Half-blood." I started a casual talk as we went to god knows where.

"Oh me? I'm a Half-blood too. Mum's a witch, dad's a squib." I nodded, rubbing my hands together. "Dad's from Mexico but then he shifted here with mum after he had me." He mused out loud as I nodded again. Right, small talk. I can do this.

"So what's your favorite subject? I'm in love with charms and DADA. I'm also interested in potions and Herbology. I also like Transfiguration, Astronomy and History or origins of magic." There was a quite pause and Carl shook his head as he snorted loudly, "Yeah," he finally said, "You're a Ravenclaw, alright." He pushed his bangs back, head shaking at me.

"Soooo fave sub?"

"I'm having an affair with Charms behind Transfiguration's back, so sush, okay?" He whispered mockingly, as if scared to be overheard. I nodded, face a mask of seriousness. "My lips are sewed shut tighter than Loki's." Oh, my poor baby, shit I wished I died after the release of Avengers: End game. If they killed my baby, I'm going to fucking kill those writers. Fuck another world or not.

"A fan of Norse mythology?"

"A fan of Norse Mythology."

His grin brightened as we both turned, about to enter the lair of ravenclaws. "They're gonna love you, trust me." He soothed me, voice confident in his words, and honestly? I didn't doubt him. I ruffled my skirt, loosened my loose tie and pushed up my glasses, a small smirk on my lips as I leaned on the door, "Really? I'm pretty sure I read that in the fifth book of History of the Light magick, but yeah, that equation isn't right. How about putting a two?"

My trust was place in the right account as I was reluctantly parted away from the reluctantly letting me leave group of elder Ravenclaws – second years, third years and fourth years. Apparently, there were hardly newcomers who asked logical, mind stimulating questions like me. Their words, not mine. We parted hesitantly, but every one of them was sure they'll see me later.

I pretty sure I will.

I scuttled out of the train, making my way towards the huddle of first years, eyes bright with barley contained excitement. Holy shit, I'm here, I'm here, and I'm here. Im about to see the real fucking Hogwarts, Omg, holy crap, ahhhhhh! I barley contained my squeal, as other first years barley contained their squeal upon seeing my scar and eyes.

Hogwarts, I hope your body's ready, because ready or not here, I come. "'Arry! Come 'ere my girl. Tat right, sit here would ya? We almost went ahead without you!" Hagrid, God bless his soul, had made me sit in a little boat – with none other than Miss. Hermione Ganger and Misturs. Neville Longbottom themselves.

"Hey, I love your hair." I commented airily, hand marveling the black liquid in my hands as eyes hungrily soaked in the magic around the black lake. Rain drizzled all around up, making my curly hair even wilder. "Oh, Thanks!" The ginger smiled shyly, her face light with a startled blush. "I've read all about you, you are in the History of Magic – Harriet James Belladonna Lilly Potter. You vanished the dark lord when you were a baby and then lived your life with the muggle. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way and this is Neville, did you happen to see a frog on the train?"

"Hey, Neville. I didn't see any frog, but lemme guess? You lost your frog?" Neville Longbottom stammered, and then hesitantly nodded his chubby, totally future hottie face. "Well, don't worry your head off. The student's belongings – books or pets are automatically charmed to meet you in your designated rooms after sorting. Your pet can't really go anywhere but Hogwarts."

I assured him and the hope on his face was really a sight, "Really?" he breathed out, voice coated with hope. "Yep." I answered giving his a small smile, definitely not sadistic at his little blush. Jesus, these kids are so cute. "Is that so? The spells work on inanimate and animate objects?" Hermione suddenly cut in, her eyes wide and voice shrill.

"Oh-Oh! I-uh, I me-meant." She stammered, as if just realizing the strength behind her voice as nearby kids turned around to gawk at her. "Yeah, actually. In Arithmancy, we don't have that yet, we literally have numbers and study their magical properties." I shared, loving the war the lust for knowledge clouded her eyes. "I heard of that too." Neville chimed in, shoulders not a tense.

"Granger and Neville, right?" they nodded their head, "I have a feeling that we'll get along just fine. Blueberry?" I offered my bag of sweet berries to them, just like the snake had offered the apple to Eve.

Mission: Minions – commence.

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Draco Malfoy was the crème la crème of the wizarding society – his family was a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and his father was powerful. Also, he bought Draco whatever he wanted, even if his mother would say no. So it wasn't a surprise to him when he was called in before his trip to the Diagon Alley. Usually Dobby – his father's stupid elf – would do it, but today was special.

"Be wise, son." He remembers his father's stern voice as his mother nodded resolutely. "You are to be the heir to the Malfoy's and you will need a powerful wife by your side. Do not waste your time and have a clear eye – fool around as it is your youth, but be firm for one woman of your choice." It was true – he was to be the Head one day, and by his side had to be lady, preferably.

Draco didn't really want to marry just any powerful girl. He was the best, so his wife also had to be the best – it didn't matter to him if his wife wouldn't give him any children – even at this young age, he doesn't like the idea of sharing with anyone – there were other ways to get a heir, magical ways. No, he was adamant – his wife had to be the best for him, even if she didn't want kids.

His choice at first had been obvious – Harriet Potter. The girl who lived. The baby who vanquished the dark lord. She had to be his, he would make sure of that, and there would be competition, but really? How many other boys had a white peacock? A nimbus? A lot of money and the position of family head under his name? Hardly, he concluded. There would be challenges, but it'll be fine.

He'll deal with them.

There was also the rave about her looks – curly black hair, the scar – the scar! – And of course her two coloured eyes. One rumored to be Green and another smoky blue. Those were slytherin colours, and really, Draco was already a bit in the fancy. If he ended up with even a pinch of his father's looks he'll be good-looking enough to be on his wife's level.

If he wooed her that is.

He brushed off the insecure feelings, (On the contrary to many buffoons, Draco wasn't an idiot. He knew they swarmed him only for his reputation as an heir – that's how slytherin worked. Even pansy only liked him for his reputation. However, he wasn't either – he used the others just as much as they used him, maybe even more.

No one liked to say no to him if he gave them some credits – fools, didn't they know that ultimately, he would have more profit? But still, sometimes he did want something genuine. He was pretty sure if Harriet was a boy, he would have been jealous of him.) And went to the Diagon alley, his eyes roaming – for his next lavishes and options for potential wife's.

Basically he searched for Harriet Potter.

However, he soon saw someone even more captivating. Even if a bit bony, and rather petite, the girl's magic thrummed in the air – cracking and just barely concealed. His own magic shivered, in wonder. His eyes narrowed upon her frame – she was cute enough, he supposed. Still, Harriet would be a better option, his mind had told him.

He then saw her everywhere he went – the wand makers, (she took a rather long time.) the book house (Bloody hell! Was this girl trying to drown herself in books?) And pretty much everywhere. By the end of his trip, as he stood in the Malkin's boutique, he was a bit captivated. Still, he was adamant on Harriet.

Then, they talked, and Draco Lucius Malfoy had fallen in a fancy. His mind was a bit reluctant to let go of Harriet as the candidate, but the moment she said that that oaf was cool, Draco had been sure. He would make this girl admit that he is cool, and then make her devote to him. He had found his new lavish and his candidate, much to his father's amusement, as his eyes glinted with something unknown as he gazed at the girl he chose.

She had gotten away for now, but in the end she would still be there. After all, how hard could it be?

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"Ironically, my next seven years were the most frustrating, jealous and anger stimulating years of my life. I pursued her more frantically than anyone else, yes I fooled around, but couldn't help the ugly emotions seeing her fool around."

"I had been so captivated by her openness, her apathy, that when I discovered her masks and her web's it had been to late – like a moth attracted to the flame, I had charged into her flames bound to burned cold by her icy black flames."

"She had been the wolf in human skin, and had she devoured the little red riding hood. She had torn me apart, tangled me in her webs of decay, the knife sharp edges digging in my bones so deep, that by the time I had noticed it was too late."

"The webs had reached my bones and melded with my own – changing me to her whims. And like the naïve little sheep, I had enjoyed her warmth – even when I was being roasted."

"Even when I was demolished and in her system, about to be digested by the same warm flames."

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A/N: So, how's that for a change? The characters deepen and some basic mind train of some characters are revealed, we've seen Draco's reason behind his obsession with Harriet's approval and Harriet's mind thought process. Thank you for the wonderful reviews to all, and thank you for being patient with me.

Also, not even on the fifth chapter and already thinking of possible sequels. Do you guys want another story of the same OC but in the past, like during Tom Riddle's time? Then do check out my other stories.

Okay, so let's start a Poll for Harriet's Animagus and Patronus. Choices (My choices) for Animagus: Vulture, Bat, Spider, Hyena, Komodo dragon, Tasmanian devil and Grizzly bears. Choices (My choices) for Patronus: Box Jellyfish, Eagle, Hyena and saltwater crocodile.

Question: Which house should Hermione, Harriet and Neville be in? Also, do you like blueberries?

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The first method for estimating the intelligence of a ruler is to look at the men he has around him.

- Niccolo Machiavelli.