Title: Lessons Learned

Author: tinyrose65

Summary: When Umbridge comes to Hogwarts, Harriet is forced to learn some painful lessons as she discovers more about the people she thought she knew.

"In three words, I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

-Robert Frost

Harriet Potter, Potter Manor — August 24, 1995

It was the sort of muggy, summer day made for lazing about. Everything seemed to be moving more slowly, and Potter Manor was no exception. Harriet had no energy for even Quidditch on this day, the sweltering heat draining her of her will to play.

She was currently lying flat on her back on the couch in the living room, where her mother had cast a cooling charm to keep the house from overheating. Next to her, on the floor, was Sirius, also flat on his back, but as Padfoot, tongue lolling out of his mouth and eyes closed. Neither was particularly in interested in moving at the moment, despite the fact that they only had a week or so together before Harriet returned to school for her fifth year.

"You two still laying about, then?" asked her father, breaking the silence as he strode into the room. He took in the scene— two of the people closest to his heart keeping each other company— and tutted. "For shame. It's a beautiful day out."

"It's hot," Harriet whined, not caring how bratty she sounded. In another life, she would've been outside pulling weeds from Aunt Petunia's garden, but living with her mum and dad had spoiled her rotten, and now she wouldn't move from the couch for all the world.

Next to her, Padfoot let out a low whine and also made no effort to move.

James frowned and walked over to his friend, then giving him a gently kick in the backside. Pad Padfoot popped up with a huff and gave her father a betrayed look. James Potter was unmoved.

"Don't give me that look. You're the one who's going to be complaining soon about how you didn't get to spend enough time with Harriet over the summer."

Realizing that he couldn't answer Harriet's dad in his current state, Padfoot let himself be transformed back into Sirius's human form. Harriet, who had gotten used to seeing her father and his friend transform to and from their animagi states, didn't bat an eyelid. Instead, she went back to fanning herself with her hand. Her mother's cooling charm was barely effective against the mid-afternoon heat.

Sirius straightened his robes, looking affronted. "I do not complain about Harriet leaving."

"Padfoot," James said, not unkindly, "you complain about that more than anybody else in this family."

"That's saying something," offered Remus as he entered the living room. He had been in the kitchen helping Lily prepare lunch when he overheard the conversation between his friends and had hastened to join them. With their work and school schedules, it had been a while since all of them (including Lily and Harriet) had had much time together. He didn't intend to squander any of it.

Sirius scoffed. "Easy for you to say. You see her all year."

"As her professor," Remus corrected. "Not her… uncle."

It still felt strange for Remus to call himself Harriet's uncle. Not to say that he wasn't incredibly happy to do so, but it still sometimes felt like something he didn't deserve, something that would be taken away from him at a moment's notice. Harriet was happy to correct this notion whenever she could by introducing him as her uncle to whoever she met (whether or not she knew of his difficulties with the word or simply liked calling him her uncle remained to be seen— he was leaning towards the latter).

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again," Sirius sighed. "You've gone over to the dark side, Moony."

"You at least let her have some fun, don't you Moony?" her father pleaded.

A small argument broke out over what constituted as "fun." Her father and Sirius maintained that this involved pranks of all sorts, and the fight quickly deteriorated into a reminiscing of all the trouble they had gotten into at Hogwarts. Harriet, from her position on the couch, made sure to listen attentively, knowing that Fred and George would kill to be in her position. In his last letter to her, Ron had mentioned that Fred and George had been experimenting all summer with various prank ideas and gag gifts, and Harriet planned on helping them put the money she had given them to good use.

"We cursed Severus up that tree that one time, remember?" Sirius asked with a chuckle.

Remus rolled his eyes. "It's difficult to forget. He was furious."

"You cursed Uncle Sev up a tree?" Harriet demanded, wide eyed, and sitting up.

Her father looked bit uncomfortable. "Well, yes, Harriet. But this was years ago, obviously."

"And if we hear of you cursing anybody up trees, your broom will be taken from you faster than you can blink," said Lily, entering the room for the first time. Sirius gasped and placed a hand to his heart.

"Lily Potter!" he cried. "You would never dream of being so cruel to the Prongslette!"

Harriet tried to decide if she should be annoyed that they were talking about her like she wasn't even there, but then got over it. It was all in good fun.

"Harriet knows perfectly well how to prank people without hurting them," Lily said firmly, giving her daughter a stern look. Harriet nodded eagerly, not keen on getting on her mother's bad side. Sirius seemed unconcerned.

"You have to admit Snape was a right git back then," Sirius pointed out. "After what he did to you not soon after—" He stopped himself at Lily's look, but it was too late. Harriet was already looking curiously at her mother, waiting for her to clarify, but all she did was shake her head.

"What did he do?" Harriet demanded. She knew that Snape had gone through a dark period during his later years at Hogwarts, and that it had ultimately resulted in the end of his friendship with her mother, and his decision to reveal the contents of the prophecy to Lord Voldemort. Snape's role as a Death Eater was one of those things Harriet liked to pretend had never happen, so conflicted were her feelings on the subject.

"It was a long time ago, love," Lily sighed.

Harriet was growing more curious by the minute. "But I want to know."

"He called her a mudblood," Sirius said bluntly. Harriet gasped and Lily shot him a withering look.

"Sirius!" she chided.

"If we didn't tell her, she only would've found a way to figure it out on her own," Sirius pointed out reasonably and Lily deflated.

"Harriet," her father began, no doubt to calm her down, but Harriet stopped him with a shake of her head.

"I don't— not right now," she muttered, getting up. She wanted to be alone— desperately alone— for a little while, so she went to her room.

She loved Snape— idolized him, even, in some ways— and it always hurt her to know about the things he had done in his past. This, though, this brought fresh hurt to her heart.

Harriet spent the rest of the day in her room. That evening, when her parents called her down to dinner, she didn't go. She just couldn't face them. To Harriet, who valued her friendship with Ron and Hermione above almost everything else, the idea that Snape could do something like that to her mother…

Perhaps it was an overreaction. Harriet was aware of this. It didn't make her any less angry at him, or at her parents and Sirius and Remus, who had kept this from her. They had kept a lot from her, as a general rule, she mused. The only reason she had learned about Snape's past was because Tom Riddle hadn't been able to keep quiet about it while taunting her in the chamber all those years ago.

Her annoyance with her family (Snape included) had not dissipated by the time it was time for her to leave for Hogwarts. Nevertheless, she hugged them fiercely when the time came to board the Hogwarts expressed and, despite her anger, already missed them dearly.

Harriet Potter, Hogwarts — September 1, 1995

Harriet's start of term was not off to a very good beginning. During the first feast, after the Sorting, it had been revealed that the new professor would be none other than Dolores Umbridge. What little recollection Harriet had of the woman from her second year was not pleasant. Furthermore, Umbridge had been in the news recently for her work in pushing anti-lycanthropy legislation, so any chances of salvaging Harriet's opinion of her was lost.

At the moment, Umbridge, clad in a horrifying shade of pink, sat between Snape and her Uncle Moony at the head table in the Great Hall, and Harriet was having a hard time telling who was having a more unpleasant time. Uncle Sev looked as though he'd swallowed a particularly nasty potion, where as the normally restrained Lupin looked ready to stab the pink-clothed woman in the eye with his fork.

"What is she doing here?" Harriet hissed to Hermione as Umbridge proceeded to give some sort of speech. When she had interrupted Dumbledore only moments earlier, all the students in the Great Hall had gasped with shock. Nobody interrupted Dumbledore.

"I heard that Dumbledore couldn't find anybody else to take the position," Hermione whispered back. Mad-Eye had been teaching them for the past few years (once as himself and once as a fake), but had decided that he couldn't tolerate children in such large quantities and that he wanted out after his altercation with Barty Crouch Jr., once again leaving the position open. "Not after what's been happening these past few years."

"Why not give it to Snape then?" Ron wondered aloud, speaking just a tad too loudly. Hermione and Harriet shushed him.

Ron and Hermione had grown a bit more accepting of Snape as of late, which, under other circumstances, Harriet would've found pleasing. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Ron and Hermione to believe her when she said Snape had been working for the light ever since that night in Godric's Hollow, but believe her now they did.

Still, all of this news would've been better served if Harriet hadn't decided to actively avoid Snape for the time being. She still hadn't told her friends about what he had said to her mother, a mistake she planned on rectifying tonight.

"He did," Harriet confirmed, remembering one of the conversations she had overheard take place between Snape and her mum. Harriet knew that Snape had been vying for the DADA position for years and was thrilled when Dumbledore finally came to him over the summer. "Only the didn't have enough time to find somebody to take Snape's place as Potions Master, and then somebody apparently volunteered for the Defense position. I just didn't realize it was her."

"Did she just say that Defense would be theory only this year?" Ron demanded, making sure to keep his voice low.

Harriet blanched. "I hope not. That would really defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"

Ron was saved from having to respond by Umbridge wrapping up her speech. She cleared her throat, gave the students a small, toad-like smile, and finally ceded the floor to Dumbledore.

"Thank you, Professor Umbridge, for that enlightening speech." To Dumbledore's credit, no trace of sarcasm escaped from his words. Not for the first time, Harriet wished that she could lie like that. The rest of the feast, thankfully, went off without a hitch. Harriet and Ron stuffed their faces full of delicious food (as was their custom) as Hermione watched, both disgusted and awed.

When the time came to file out of the Great Hall, Hermione and Ron (newly named prefects) had to go off to direct the first years. Harriet, meanwhile, went back to the common room to wait for them— she still wanted to tell them about what Snape had said to her mum all those years ago and her subsequent fight with her parents upon finding out.

Speaking of Snape, she had been doing her very best to avoid him and his gaze all evening. When she finally made it to the safety of the common rooms, she sighed in relief. She had forgotten how perceptive he was. He was no doubt aware that she was upset with him, although Harriet couldn't say if he had figured it out himself or if her mum had told him, and had been trying to catch her eye all night.

Harriet explained all of this and the reasoning behind it to Ron and Hermione when they finally finished with the first years. They sat themselves off in a corner of the room where they would be left alone and nobody would overhear them. Hermione and Ron were equal parts concerned and sympathetic.

"Are you sure you aren't overreacting, Harriet?" Hermione asked hesitantly. "I mean, what he said was horrible but it was years ago. And you've forgiven him for so much else."

"Can't imagine why," Ron grumbled. At Harriet's pointed glare, he hastened to add, "But no judging!"

"Maybe," Harriet admitted to Hermione after a moment, deflating suddenly. "I just— I don't know. It feels like every time I've come to terms with what he's done in the past, I found out something else. Is it really worth it forgiving him for all this again?"

"That's up to you Harri," Hermione offered.

"And my parents keep hiding things from me," Harriet added, determined to air out all of her grievances.

Ron was sympathetic at this. "Parents, mate. I hear ya."

The trio lapsed into silence as Harriet thought things over. Hermione was the one who broke it. With a slightly devilish grin, she clapped her hands to get their attention. "Well, I say we move the conversation onto more pleasant topics."

At Ron and Harriet's confused looks, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Cedric, Harriet. How have things been with Cedric?"

Harriet blushed, ignoring Ron's complaints of "I don't want to hear this."

"Good. Things have been good." Harriet admitted. "We met up a few times over the summer at Diagon Alley and stuff. And he's been to dinner. My mum likes him, and he seems to be growing on dad and Remus and Sirus— they talk about Quidditch and all. We have plans to meet up at Hogsmeade, too."

Hermione squealed in positive delight. "Oh, I knew you too would be cute together!"

"Adorable," Ron drawled, clearly not interested in the conversation.

They ignored him.

"I really like him," Harriet admitted quietly.

Hermione's second squeal could be heard throughout the common room.

Harriet Potter, Umbridge's Classroom — September 10, 1995

Harriet didn't think there was somebody she could hate more than Voldemort, but Umbridge was giving him a serious run for his money. She was just so unpleasant. Her voice was grating, her attitudes on wizarding politics archaic, and her methods for teaching Defense were downright boring.

Still, Harriet had been prepared to muddle through it all until Umbridge began to insult her uncle Remus.

Then all bets were off.

"He's completely fine during the full moon as long as he takes his potion," Harriet protested vehemently, not caring that the rest of the class was staring at her aghast for speaking in such a way to the (newly crowned) meanest professor in the school. "Nobody is in any danger!"

"That may be," Umbridge said, nostrils flaring angrily, "but to allow a half-breed such as him to teach—"

"Professor Lupin is half of nothing," Harriet spat back. "And he's one of the best teachers in this school! Ask anybody!"

Much to Harriet's disappointment, nobody came to her (or Lupin's) defense. She doubted it had to do with the disagreeing with her statement. Werewolf or not, Remus really was one of the most beloved professors in the school. Even the Slytherins had taken a reluctant shining to him. However, it seemed that the students' fear of Umbridge far out outweighed their desire to support her. Umbridge had taken over Snape's spot as the scariest professor at Hogwarts, much to Snape's displeasure.

"Werewolves are nothing but a menace to society, and I will not have you spreading lies around the halls of Hogwarts, tainting the mind of the impressionable young students," Umbridge hissed.

"But-!"

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Umbridge said firmly, "for talking back to a teacher. Clearly you have a lot to learn about respect, Miss Potter."

"I show respect to those that have earned it," Harriet muttered sullenly, sinking back into her seat.

Umbridge's eyes threatened to bug out of her head, and Harriet allowed herself a small modicum of pleasure for putting that expression on her face. "Detention. With me. Tonight. Eight o'clock."

Harriet opened her mouth to say something, but Ron's hand on her shoulder silenced her. He gave her a stern look and a shake of his head, clearly relaying the message that the fight wasn't worth it at this point. She kept her mouth shut, but shrugged his hand off. Where were he and Hermione when Umbridge had been insulting her uncle?

"We wanted to stand up for him. Really, Harriet," Hermione said soothingly as they left the classroom. "But it's not worth the trouble. Everybody here loves Professor Lupin."

"She called me a liar," Harriet seethed, "for saying that werewolves are just as good as normal people!"

"She's horrible," Ron confirmed. "A lot of people agree with her, though. Hogwarts has only gotten better about it because of Professor Lupin. The Wizarding World is still pretty unaccepting in comparison."

"They can all—" Harriet said something unprintable and Ron and Hermione gaped at her.

"You've been spending too much time around Sirius," Hermione said weakly. Ron just looked on at her in awe.

"If I sad something like that, my mum would be washing my mouth out with soap for weeks."

"My mum would be, too," Harriet admitted as they approached the door to the Great Hall, ready for lunch She stopped before going in and let out a sigh. This day was already way too long.

"Chin up, Harriet," Hermione said. "The day is already half over!"

"For you. I have detention."

"She'll probably make you do lines or something," Ron dismissed as they sat at the table. "It won't be too bad."

Ron was right, in one respect, as it turned out.

Harriet arrived at Umbridge's office on time, not wanting to give the professor another reason to dock her points. Umbridge's office was one of the most frightening rooms Harriet had ever seen— and this included the Chamber of Secrets. Every surface was bedecked with pink or lace (or both), and the walls were taken up with various pictures of cats.

Umbridge sat at her desk, primly sipping from a tea-cup and awaiting Harriet's arrival. When Harriet entered, Umbridge put her teacup aside and smiled a small smile.

"Ah, Miss Potter. So nice of you to join me. Please, take a seat." She gestured towards a small table and chair off to the side of the room. Harriet did as she was told and noticed that a piece of parchment and a quill rested on the table. Umbridge confirmed her suspicions (and Ron's guess) when she said, "You'll be doing lines for me today. 'I must not tell lies.' That ought to do it, hm?"

Harriet resisted the urge to snap that she had not been telling lies about her uncle, thank you very much. Instead, she asked through gritted teeth, "How many lines do you want me to do?"

"Oh, as many as it takes for the message to sink in, I suppose," she said sweetly.

Harriet didn't really like the sound of that— she'd be here all night— but again didn't protest. Hermione had given her a stern lecture on keeping her mouth shut and her head down this detention, if she wanted to avoid getting into anymore trouble.

"You haven't given me any ink," Harriet noted, making to reach for some from her bag.

Umbridge waved her actions away. "You won't be needing any ink."

What? Harriet thought to herself. Something was very wrong here. Harriet could feel it. A part of her wanted to get up and walk out of the room— it's not as though Umbridge could physically restrain her. On the other hand, what would that accomplish? Telling Remus or Snape that she'd left a detention because the professor weirded her out probably wouldn't do any good, even if they were sympathetic.

And that was assuming that she was still talking to either of them.

Which she wasn't.

(Not that she felt guilty about that or anything— it was their own fault for keeping secrets.)

Harriet let out a sigh as she picked up the quill and began to write.

I must not tell lies.

She nodded in satisfaction at the line and went to do the next one, when something stopped her. A sharp pain in the back of her hand. She dropped the quill in surprise and watched, horrified, as the words she had just written down carved their way into her skin.

What in the world—?

Umbridge hummed satisfactorily to herself. "Problem, Miss Potter?"

Harriet wanted to throw the quill at Umbridge's head, but that would only antagonize her further. So she just shook her head and went back to writing. Again, the words carved themselves in the back of her hand. She clenched her toes and gritted her teeth against the pain, determined not to give Umbridge the satisfaction of seeing her flinch.

"That's right, Miss Potter," Umbridge said serenely, as though she wasn't watching a student mutilate themselves all for her benefit. "Keep writing. You've been very bad, haven't you? You deserve to be punished, and I think you know that, deep down."

This isn't detention, Harriet thought to herself, as she kept writing. This is torture.

As Harriet wrote, she couldn't help but wonder what she should do next. She couldn't not tell somebody about this. Even if she ignored the fact that this was probably illegal, Harriet couldn't risk the chance of Umbridge hurting another student. She thought of the first years she had seen Ron and Hermione lead out of the Great Hall earlier— they were so small and innocent (was she like that once upon a time?). She refused to let Umbridge ruin that.

Of course, she didn't really feel like going to Snape, or even Remus. She loved them, yes, and trusted them, despite all that they had lied to her, but she was still hurt. She supposed she could go to McGonagall…

For the next several hours, Harriet entertained herself with thoughts of what McGonagall would do to Umbridge when she found out that one of her "cubs" had been hurt. By the time Harriet had finished lines, her stomach was in knots from both hunger and the pain. Her hand had been cut open so many times that it had eventually stopped bleeding. Her other hand was cramped from holding the quill for so long and so tightly.

Umbridge let out a cough, forcing Harriet to look up. She held out her hand. It took Harriet's tired mind a moment to figure out what Umbridge wanted. Then, realizing, she stood up and took her parchment with her, handing it over to Umbridge. Umbridge looked it over for a moment then nodded, apparently satisfied.

"Very well, Miss Potter. Hopefully this teaches you to be more respectful of your elders." She said. "You are dismissed."

Harriet managed to keep her mouth shut until she was in the hall. Walking along, she muttered to herself, "Old cow."

"I should deduct points for that," came a voice from behind her. Harriet nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to see Snape, coming around the corner and watching her with raised brows. Harriet just scowled at him.

"Oh, like you don't agree," she pointed out.

Snape was quiet for a beat. Then said, "Regardless, what are you doing wandering around the corridors this late?"

"I had detention," she said, self-consciously putting her injured hand behind her. Snape noticed, though, and focused his glare on it.

"What's in your hand?"

"Nothing," Harriet said, perhaps a tad too quickly. She showed Snape her empty hands, making sure to keep her palms facing outward. He hummed and nodded, dismissing her for the time being, so she went to walk past him. Quick as his house's mascot, his hand darted out and grabbed hers, pulling it forward for him to get a better look. He ignored her undignified yelp and instead studied the scars on her hand with an almost detached interest.

"Where did you get these?" The tone of his voice betrayed just how un-detached he really was.

Harriet shuffled her feet, feeling inexplicably guilty. Whether it was because she had been planning on keeping her hand a secret from him or if it was just the general feeling Snape brought about, she couldn't say. Harriet knew she could never lie to Snape, not successfully, anyway. And yes, she was still angry with him, but maybe she had learned something over the years: keeping secrets never did anybody much good, no matter how much the adults in her life seemed to think otherwise.

Ignoring her pride, she finally answered Snape, who had been waiting patiently: "Detention. With Umbridge. She had these quill things—"

"Blood quills?" Snape demanded.

Harriet shrugged. "I guess. I don't know what they're called. She made me do lines."

"Come with me," he said firmly, but without giving her much choice. He didn't let go of her hand and pulled her along rather roughly, barely pausing when Harriet stumbled. They continued in this manner until they reached the hospital wing.

"Hush," Snape snapped impatiently, when Harriet started to grumble at the site of the wing's white-washed walls. She hated the medical wing. She personally thought that she spent far more time there than necessary (between Quidditch injuries, normal illnesses, and the occasional life-threatening feat).

"What in the world, Severus?" demanded Madam Pomfrey. She was one of the few teachers in the school who had never been afraid of Snape. She was also one of the few teachers in the school who even Snape dared not cross.

Snape didn't say anything to her, but rather held out Harriet's hand for her to look at. All of the anger drained out of Madam Pomfrey's expression the moment she saw the marks. She took Harriet's hand from Severus's grip and held it in her own, examining the cuts closely. "How did this happen?"

"Umbridge seemed to think that blood quills are an appropriate detention," Snape sneered.

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue as she pulled Harriet along towards one of the cots. Harriet, for all that she thought this was an overreaction, didn't argue (for once) and lay down where the healer directed. Madam Pomfrey pulled the blanket up around her and made sure she was comfortable, patting the bed gently when she was done.

Then she turned to face Snape, suddenly all business. "Somebody needs to alert the Headmaster."

"Preferably before you heal her hands," Snape noted. "We'll need to document it for proof."

"Tippy," Madam Pomfrey called, her voice raising just slightly. Harriet was only a bit surprised when a house-elf popped out of seemingly-nowhere a moment later. She had gotten more used to them since she had met Dobby— Sirius had even taken her to meet Kreacher a few months back. He had been very excited.

"Yes, mistress?" Tippy asked, ears bobbing eagerly.

"Alert the headmaster that a student has been injured and that he is needed right away," Madam Pomfrey informed her. Then, she paused. Hesitatingly, she added, "Do the same to Professor Lupin. Wake them up, if necessary. It's urgent."

"Of course, mistress!" Tippy said quickly, happy to do work, as almost all house-elves were. She popped out a moment later, leaving Harriet alone once again with Snape and Madam Pomfrey. Madam Pomfrey left, then, too, muttering something about a camera for documentation, and a draught to help with the pain. Harriet wanted to tell her that the second wasn't really necessary, but decided to let it go. Her hand was throbbing quite a bit.

She and Snape were left in silence.

"I was going to tell somebody," Harriet said, needing to the fill the void of quiet with something. She busied herself by examining her injured hand, but did see Snape raise an eyebrow out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh? Then why hide your hand when I asked?"

"I just didn't want to tell you," Harriet admitted, risking another glance at him. His expression didn't change, and he was saved from answering by the arrive of Dumbledore and Professor Lupin. Dumbledore looked the same as always, calm, cool, and collected, although it was a bit strange to see him in a dressing gown (dark crimson with gold polka-dots) as opposed to his usual robes. Lupin looked harried, his hair a mess and face crinkled with lines from his pillow. He also wore a dressing gown over his usual striped pajamas.

(Harriet was also pleased to note that Dumbledore wore the socks she had given him the past year for Christmas.)

"Harriet," Dumbledore said, not sounding surprised. "What trouble have you gotten yourself into now?"

Knowing the drill, Harriet showed him her injured hand. The twinkle in Dumbledore's eye disappeared when he saw it and a frown crossed his face. Remus's anger, on the other hand, was far more palpable. The moment he saw Harriet's hand, his jaw clenched and his hands tightened into fists.

Harriet had never had a reason to fear Lupin— never. Even when she had first learned about his lycanthropy, the reaction of her eleven year-old self had been more curiosity than fear. Still, in this moment, she was afraid. Not for herself, mind you. Remus would never hurt her.

But, yes.

Remus looked positive feral.

Snape related what happened to the Headmaster and to Remus.

"I'll kill her," Remus swore, completely serious. It was the sort of reaction Harriet would've expected from Sirius, not from him, and she blushed at the fuss she was causing.

"Let's not do anything rash, Mr. Lupin," Dumbledore sighed, although not looking happy about it. Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to return with a camera (similar to the one Colin had carried) and ordered Harriet to hold out her hand. She did so, and Madam Pomfrey began to take pictures.

"How long were you in detention with Professor Umbridge, Harriet?" Dumbledore questioned.

Harriet thought about it. "A few hours, at least. Longer? There wasn't a clock. I got there at eight. I'm not sure what time it is now."

Dumbledore hummed in acknowledgement and Remus swore under his breath. Harriet felt compelled to add, "I knew something was wrong when I showed up— she wouldn't give me any ink— but I didn't really have a reason to leave. And then once I started I—"

Harriet paused, not wanting to admit that in those moments, as she wrote, she had come to believe Umbridge's words of deserving punishment. It was a nasty sort of effect those quills had had on her, and she was already feeling bad over being angry with her parents. And she did cause them so much trouble.

"—I didn't realize I could leave," she added weakly. Nobody looked quite like they believed her (and why should they? Harriet had taken down a basilisk… Surely she could handle a professor), but nobody pushed the point. "I was going to tell McGonagall."

Snape started at this. For some reason, this was the wrong thing to say. He got up and left the room, muttering as he did so, "I'll alert the brat's parents."

Harriet was a bit insulted at that, but let it go. Madam Pomfrey fretted a bit more over her hand and then offered her a small vial. Harriet sniffed it and then retched. It was horrid.

"None of that, Harriet," she tutted. "You'll drink it all up. It'll help with the pain, although it might make you a tad sleepy."

"I'll be here with you, Harriet," Remus assured, pulling up a chair. "Your parents will no doubt be here soon, too."

Harriet sighed and took the vial, downing all of its contents in one gulp. As she did so, Dumbledore stood. "I best alert the Ministry about this. I'll be in my office, if needed." He rested his hand on Harriet's head and ruffled her hair gently. "Sleep, now, Harriet."

Harriet did.

The Potter Family, Hogwarts Hospital Wing — September 2, 1995

When Harriet woke up from a deep, potion-addled sleep, it was already morning. She could tell because the sun was out, light filtering in through the curtains. It took her a moment to remember why she was in the hospital wing, but when she did, she raised her hand to her face, curious about the scars. Whatever Madam Pomfrey had given her had already started to its work— the scratches were pink, now, the healing of day-old skin, as opposed to only a few hours hold.

Harriet stretched languidly and hummed to herself, feeling surprisingly well rested. She looked around, surprised to see that her parents were nowhere in sight. She pulled herself out of bed and, in the process, noticed that she was no longer in her school uniform. Instead, she was in a pair of her pajamas. From home. So her parents had been here.

So, when she pulled the curtain surrounding her bed open, she was not surprised to see her parents having a light breakfast at a table in the corner of the hospital wing. Sirius was also there, but Remus wasn't, no doubt preparing (or even teaching— what time was it?) his next class. When they saw her, her parents smiled. Her mother opened her arms wide. As Harriet went in for a hug, her father looked her over concernedly.

"How are you feeling, Harriet?" he asked seriously. Harriet let go of her mum and shrugged, taking a seat next to them.

"Alright. The potion Madam Pomfrey gave me helped. I slept well, and my hand doesn't hurt anymore."

Her father's expression darkened, but only for a moment. When it cleared, Harriet was left wondering if she had imagined the whole thing. "Good. I'm glad to hear it."

"When did you guys get here?" Harriet asked, taking a piece of toast for herself and liberally spreading some jam on it.

"Last night," her mother answered. "You were sleeping so soundly, though, that we didn't want to wake you." She hesitated for the briefest moment. "May I see your hand, love?"

Harriet gave it to her dutifully, not even bothering to ask which hand it was she wanted to see. Her mother took it gently, her father and Sirius peering over her shoulders, and fingered the marks on them with a feather light touch.

"They're healing well," she noted, sounding pleased.

"They shouldn't have to heal at all," Sirius grumbled, earning an agreeing look from her father.

"What's going to happen to Umbridge?" Harriet asked.

"Some of our colleagues came to get her," Sirius said, sounding cheerful all of a sudden. "She'll be given a fair trial— more than she deserves— and then hopefully carted off to Azkaban."

The prospect of Azkaban, while still sobering, was no longer as dour as it once was. Since Shacklebolt had taken over as Prime Minister, he had gotten rid of the Dementors, all of their trouble causing at Hogwarts aiding him in winning public approval. Umbridge would be unhappy in prison, but she would not be tormented by her nightmares in the way Sirius (and countless, innocent others, no doubt) had been.

"Snape told us that you didn't want to show him your hand," her father said carefully, after a few minutes of silence, where they all enjoyed their food. "Are you still upset about what happened between him and your mother all those years ago?"

"No," Harriet denied. "Well, yes? I mean, I was upset. Very upset. But, then, it was so long ago, and you clearly seem to be over it. Now I'm just upset that nobody tells me these things— not you or mum or Sirius or Remus or anybody, and I have to go find out on my own. I guess I just wanted you all to feel a bit of what I felt. Sorry…"

Her mother frowned. "There are some things you're too young to-"

Harriet groaned, not letting her finish. "That's a terrible excuse."

Instead of getting upset with Harriet for interrupting, her mother let out a small smile. "Yes, I suppose it would seem that way to you."

Harriet just looked at her, not saying anything, and wondering what would happen next. Her father looked thoughtful, then said, "How's this: we'll try to keep you in the loop more, and you try to understand that we've all done things in the past that we're not proud of. None of us are perfect, Prongslette, but we love you, and don't want to hurt you."

"That's fair," Harriet said softly. "And I was going to tell McGonagall about my hand, I swear. I wasn't going to let Umbridge get away with what she did."

"Well, that's something, I suppose," her mother said gently, but with a hint of pride in her voice.

"What do you say we get you cleared from Madame Pomfrey, hm?" Sirius asked, pushing back his chair and standing up. "Then we can go bug Remus while he teaches class."

Harriet and her father exchanged excited grins with her father. Her mother just groaned. For all the progress Harriet had made in the past few days, some things would never change.

Harriet Potter and Cedric Diggory, The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade — October 1, 1995

"I'm glad you and your parents worked it out," Cedric said, taking a sip of his butterbeer. It was a few weeks after the events with Umbridge and Harriet and Cedric finally found the time to meet at the Three Broomsticks. Ron and Hermione had left them, after saying hi, to go to the candy store down the way. Harriet was pleased to see Cedric. She liked him. She really did. And after all the craziness that had happened, she had to admit that it was nice being around his down-to-earth presence.

"It just wasn't worth the energy being angry," Harriet admitted. "And Snape and I talked, too. Well, I talked. Snape mainly listened, as usual. But I did get him to admit that he was horribly wrong in calling my mother what he did. And he made me promise that if I heard any rumors about anything he might've done in the past, to come to him directly instead of being angry at him about it."

Cedric grinned, although there was something off about it. Harriet assumed it was because he (like many other students) was still not terribly comfortable with her friendship with Snape. "At least it's all over now. Here's to a normal year!"

He raised his glass in toast, which Harriet met. After taking a sip of her butterbeer, she made a face. "Not completely normal. We still don't have a DADA teacher. All the other teachers have been subbing, but there's no set lesson plan or office hours or anything since everybody's schedule is so hectic teaching two classes now."

"Why not form your own study group?" Cedric suggested idly. Harriet was struck with the quiet brilliance of this idea, and told Cedric so. He blushed, then added, "You could teach. You've had the best marks in Defense for years now, and you've taken down basilisks. How many people can say they've done that?"

Now it was Harriet's turn to blush. She demurred, "Thanks, Cedric. I don't know why, but I always feel better after talking to you."

His smile dropped at this, and Harriet felt her own heart plummet. "What?"

"I didn't know how to tell you," Cedric admitted, clearly stalling.

"Tell me what?" Harriet demanded. Her hands had begun to grow clammy at this point. She didn't like the sound of this at all, and she had never seen Cedric look so nervous.

"I don't think this is working between us," he admitted quietly.

"Oh," was all Harriet could say.

"It's not you, really!" He said, and if Harriet had been in a different mood, she would've hexed him for bringing out that old cliche. "I really like you. But with you here at school, and me at work, and the time— There's just not enough time— I mean— Oh, Harriet. Please tell me you understand?"

"I understand," she said dully, but she didn't. Not really. Yes, she supposed they didn't see much of each other, but she thought that didn't matter. She had thought that Cedric had liked her as much as she liked him and was willing to look past that. She guessed she was wrong.

"We can still be friends, can't we?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah. Of course," Harriet said noncommittally. Maybe one day she'd feel better enough to take Cedric up on his offer (especially since she was going to miss him, dammit), but that day was not today. She spied Ron and Hermione entering the pub and muttered, "I'm gonna go and talk to Ron and Hermione."

Not really giving him a chance to give her a proper goodbye (or say one in return), she headed over to her two friends and sat down at the table, her head landing with a thunk as it came to rest on the table between her arms. Both Hermione and Ron exchanged worried looks (not that Harriet saw).

"Harriet?"

"Cedric broke up with me."

"Oh, Harriet," Hermione sighed. Ron held up a hand to get them all a fresh round of butterbeers as Hermione tried to offer her some reassuring platitudes. Harriet let them wash over her and by the time the butterbeer had arrived, she was feeling a bit better. Harriet mentioned the study group idea Cedric had mentioned, in an effort to change the subject a bit and get her mind off things.

Hermione was thrilled by the idea. "We could get books from the library! And I'm sure Professor Lupin would help—! This is a wonderful idea!"

"Where would we hold the groups, though?" Ron asked. "I mean, I suppose we could get one of the professors to sign off one of their classrooms, but then they'd probably need to supervise, and they never have time these days."

"Excuse me?" A voice from behind them piped up. Harriet turned, surprised, and was pleased to see Dobby standing behind them, looking pleased as punch and wearing his sock along with a new hat.

"Dobby!" Hermione beamed. "Take a seat!"

Harriet moved her chair to the side so that she could pull another one up to the table, allowing Dobby to hop up next to them. He looked inordinately pleased with himself. "If Harriet Potter pleases, Dobby thinks he knows of somewhere she and her friends can practice."

Despite her heartache, Harriet felt herself grinning along with Dobby.

Maybe things would start looking up, after all.

AN: Hey, look! I'm alive! Yay! Hopefully this nice, long chapter makes up for the wait? Let me know what you guys think!

xoxo

tinyrose65