Chapter Text
The water was dripping. Each plop resonated through the kitchen, joining the other body of water inside the mug strategically placed under the leaking faucet.
Harri slowly sipped at the coffee in her hands. Her eyes stared blankly at the faucet and she sighed when another water droplet fell. After a while of just noting how the drop became fatter as it got heavier with water, Harri’s eyes jumped above the sink.
Her plants hid the view of most of the shelf but there were peaks behind those large leaves that showed old dried tomato splatters that coloured the underside of her shelves. It was just another colour to help bring liveliness to the room. Harri blinked and she saw a drop of red liquid fall and splatter against the counters. Her jaw tightened and she took another swing of the coffee but didn’t look away from what she knew to be an unreal vision. Another blink replaced that dark liquid with a colourless one and her shoulders relaxed.
After a few moments, Harri looked down at her coffee. From her peripheral, she saw the sink gently begin to overflow. Her eyebrow twitched and she shifted her head towards the appliance. The fluid overflowed, drenching her dark green cupboards with the red colour of blood. Harri licked her lips and tried to focus on her bearings. But it was as though she forgot where she was.
She ran her bandaged covered thumb down the rim of the glass mug. A dulled pain shot through the bone of her thumb and the blood was no longer in her peripheral. Harri deflated and rested her head against the pillows fluffed behind her head.
Her eyes flickered back and forth at the wooden floor that was not wet with blood and at the coffee in her hand. The lack of a handle had Harri’s hands wrapped around the chilled glass that she knew Kreacher chose intentionally. The coolness of the glass had helped the swelling go down. But it wasn’t like she would admit defeat to Kreacher anytime soon. He didn’t need to gain the confidence to take such liberties concerning her health.
Harri knew how to take care of herself.
Beside her, she heard ragged breathing. Harri blatantly looked in the other direction, ignoring the swishing that came with the wind assaulting the tree branches outside. Right in her ear, the voice sharpened, became clearer as it shifted to an eerie rasping; moaning; a guttural noise that had Harri stiff in her position.
“Mistress needs to eat more,” Harri’s head swung to watch Kreacher as he prowled in front of the refrigerator and pulled out a couple of eggs.
“It’s two in the morning,” Harri replied dryly, the terror behind her no longer there.
“And you have been nursing that glass for over an hour Mistress,” Kreacher pointedly looked in her hands. “I may be old but I’m not senile. If you plan on staying up Mistress, you might as well eat something.”
Harri scoffed softly and watched as Kreacher whipped up some eggs for her and had the fruit cut up with a wave of his hand. The plate containing her food floated over to her and she carefully dug into under the watchful eyes of Kreacher.
Once her plate was clear, he grabbed it and with a twitch of his hands, the dishes began to wash themselves.
Harri fell silent and her fingers twitched emptily as the mug floated away from her. A deep sense of being exposed fell over her and her legs shifted restlessly under the warm blanket.
“Yes, Mistress?”
Harri paused, “What?”
Kreacher sighed, his Adam’s apple seeming more prominent as he stood hunched in the corner. He pursed his lips to keep all the discontent words to himself. Harri straightened her posture subconsciously and placed her hands on top of each other daintily.
“Is this sulking related to what Mr Easter informed you off?”
Harri almost burrowed herself in the couch but then stopped mid-motion under Kreacher’s watchful eyes. Being a Lady was tough work and it was worse with Kreacher constantly looking after Harri’s behaviour. She took her time, not avoiding the question but rather thinking of a way to explain what she was struggling with. But after a few tense seconds of getting lost in the memory of her finding out, she burst out with the thoughts plaguing her all week long.
“It’s absurd. Isn’t it? I mean, yeah my parents thought me a boy when I first popped out, but that doesn’t mean my entire lineage should be questioned! The test has to be wrong.”
“All six of them,” Kreacher politely asked. His voice didn’t waver but as Harri glanced at him, she noticed the way exhaustion clung to him - his eyes seemed drearier and his tiny legs trembled with every step he took.
She wanted to fight back, to differ the notion that she wasn’t truly a Potter but it was as though her strings were cut.
“They probably had no idea,” she said quietly. “I doubt Dumbledore was lying when he confessed what he did to them. To me.”
“They died to protect you.”
“They died to protect someone who was already dead!”
“They loved you. It doesn’t matter if you weren’t related to them by blood. They loved you and it was enough.”
Harri opened her mouth, ready to open the Pandora box of ‘but because of me’s’ but she bit the inside of her cheek.
“It matters what you do next, though,” Kreacher spoke after a while of silence. “Your sister has no idea that you’re alive. Will you let her know you or will you hide away under Dumbledore’s thumb despite him being dead?”
Harri smiled tiredly, “When you put it that way…”
-
Harri brushed the backside of her hand against the armrest of the chair she sat upon. In front of her, the desk lay devoid of Headmistress McGonagall leaving her alone in the presence of the previous Headmasters as they peacock back and forth in their portrait.
One of Harri’s hand lay on her thigh, mere centimetres away from her wand. She tapped at the armrest with her nails and waited silently for McGonagall to reappear. Out on the court, Harri heard the sound of the first years talk loudly as they left for their lunch break.
Harri breathed out steadily as the shrieks of delight churned to shrieks of terror.
“Harri,” a familiar voice pulled Harri out of her thoughts and she tilted her head back to stare at the old figure no longer asleep in his chair.
“Professor Dumbledore,” she acknowledged. Her exhaustion was blatant in her voice and she grimaced. Trying to fix her mistake, she tried again. “How are you?”
“As well as a portrait can be, my dear,” he leaned forward, his periwinkle blue robes creasing exponentially. “And yourself?”
It was a while since anyone asked her how she was. It was usually what she was busy doing or questions of what political campaign she was backing up these days.
The corner of Harri’s lips turned up without any relief or happiness; her eyes felt weary and she shut them for a split-second before she opened them wider than before.
“I’m doing alright.”
Dumbledore’s face weighed down with the expression of worry Harri was more used to.
“Oh my dear, I’m so sorry.”
Harri’s jaw clenched and she shook her head, “It’s all in the past.”
“But if I hadn’t,” Dumbledore muttered to himself. He ran a hand down his long, white beard and sighed. “No matter.”
Harri slowly stood up from her place and walked over to the portrait. Maybe she’d finally get an apology to everything he had pushed her to – to the terrors she had to endure because a man thought a child could do what many a man had failed.
“What hadn’t you done?”
Besides his portrait, a headmaster (Headmaster Dippet - the man before Dumbledore, a voice much like Hermione’s pipped up in Harri’s thoughts) shushed her with an eye roll pointed at Phineas Black.
“He just fell asleep,” the headmaster whispered. “We don’t need another reason for Phineas to start trouble.”
Harri ran her tongue under her molars and she breathed in carefully despite rage building up inside her.
“Had you not done what?”
“Oh,” pity crossed Dumbledore’s face.
“What did you do,” Harri asked loudly. When Dumbledore continued to gaze at her with pity, Harri slammed her fists on the desk.
“Oh dear, don’t you know that the Potters had a son.”
Harri faltered, confusion painting her face.
“He was just so weak,” Dumbledore sighed, his forlorn posture taking up the canvas. “I couldn’t bear telling them of the tragedy of losing their child mere days after they lost Fleamont and Euphemia. And then there you were, a child whose future looked so bleak with your muggle parents.”
Harri didn’t dare to move from her position, her body was icy with panic.
“What did you do,” her voice, unlike anything she heard before.
“What had to be done - for the greater good.”
The moment shattered and Harri fled the room.
-
Despite her mind made up to leave, the actual plan to do so didn’t take effect until the week after. The packing up was easy; all she did buy an expandable trunk and fit all of her items inside. While she handed her resignation letter at the Auror office and took the week off, Mr Easter was busy getting in touch with her sister’s boss.
It was her position in the wizarding world that required delicate handling. On one hand, she was just a missing (thought dead) girl being reunited with her family. But on the other hand, she was the ‘Savior of the Wizarding world’ meeting with a Supervisory Special Agent. Those contrasting cloud of thoughts were the reason Harri had needed more than the time she actually required before making contact.
Harri walked across the park and took her seat on the table. In front of her was a chessboard that certainly had seen better days.
“It’s been a while,” a figure took a seat across from Harri. Harri’s eyes flickered up, taking note of the same cap and glasses adorned on the face of the man she had yet not seen.
“I’ve been busy with work,” Harri said as she brushed her stray hair out of her eyes.
“Yet that never stopped you from showing up to every session.”
Harri shrugged and swung the chessboard around, so she could be on the receiving end of the white pieces.
“You’re tense,” Sam noted as he made his opening move.
“Not talking about it,” Harri replied before she leaned forward and focused on the game.
“You’re still tense,” Sam pointed as the end came to an abrupt violent ending.
Harri leaned away, holding back a wince as she pulled a muscle in her back.
“Still managed to fend you off for a while though.”
“You could’ve won twice throughout the match. Tell me what’s wrong,” Sam crossed his arms.
Harri shrugged and pulled at her wraps.
“I’m leaving town.”
Sam snorted, “If that’s what has you up in a tizzy, I’d like to see you when you’re leaving the country.”
Harri shot him a side glance, waiting for him to get what she meant.
Sam caught her look and his chuckles died down.
“Oh. For how long?”
“I’m not gonna come back,” Harri bit the inside of her cheek, “Turns out I still have a family.”
A solemn silence fell over the two war veterans.
“Yeah, I understand,” Sam said lost in his world as his gaze focused on his amputated leg.
“But you still owe me three games.”
A genuine smile flickered across Harri’s mouth and she picked up her fallen pieces.
“I won’t go easy on you.”
“I don’t expect you to.”