Chapter Text
Dorea had known that having James so late in life might bring challenges, but she would never regret her little bundle of joy—her once-in-a-lifetime baby. She and Charlus had tried for decades: potions, spells, and rituals, but nothing had worked. Eventually, she had quietly admitted to herself that an heir to the Potter family might have to come from someone else. The very thought had broken her. She loved her husband deeply. Their marriage - something everyone had predicted would fail - had blossomed from teenage romance into something truly magical.
It was just when she had been ready to give up hope, telling herself one last fertility ritual would be her final attempt, that she discovered she was expecting. The pregnancy had been difficult; her magic drained, her body weakened. But when she held her son - her husband’s heir - it had been worth it. Recovering from his birth had been challenging. She had felt fragile, her magic strained even without sustaining the baby, which had led to her current placement.
She had told Charlus she was going out to pick up a few things for James’s rapidly approaching first birthday, not wanting him to fret over her more than usual. He was the love of her life, but at times he could be overwhelming. For weeks, he had hovered, his worry smothering, though she knew it came from a good place. So instead of shopping, she found herself sitting alone in St. Mungo’s, waiting to hear what was wrong with her.
“Lady Potter,” the healer said, drawing her from her thoughts.
“Healer Abbot,” she greeted, the man had been her primary healer throughout her rough pregnancy.
“I've been over your results and had them checked over by another healer,” he started, the words causing a fissure of dread to build inside her, a number of magical diseases conjuring up in her mind; Dragon Pox, Morgana’s Fever, Troll Foot.
“And the results?” she asked, thankful for her pureblood decorum making it so she could mask her growing fear.
“You're pregnant.”
The words didn’t register for a moment, out of all of the possibilities she hadn’t expected that.
“Pregnant?” she clarified.
“Just under 4 months.”
“How?” she asked, allowing a slip in her mask to show.
The healer laughed good naturedly, “Surely my lady, I don’t need to explain the mechanics?”
The question made her smirk; she had always liked Abbot, a Ravenclaw a few years ahead of her in Hogwarts. He had been one of the few who had supported her and Charlus when they had gotten together. Although she couldn’t call him a close friend she was friendly with him and both Potters preferred him over any healer.
“Quite. I clarify, how? As you're more than aware of the difficulty I had conceiving James. It took decades and a multitude of potions and rituals and the pregnancy was from day one difficult, yet I've not noticed this one beyond my magical and physical weakness.”
The statement made the healer pause and Dorea noted his pensive look before it was masked; such obvious show of emotions would have had him skinned had he been a Slytherin.
“Lady Potter... Dorea,” the use of her given name made her start and the dread that had slowly vanished reappear, “as a healer, as your friend, I must inform you that this pregnancy will be risky if you choose to carry it out.”
“If I choose?” she questioned, abortion was forbidden in magical Britain unless circumstances where dire; Yes they happened under the table in places such as Knockturn alley and nearly every pureblood was taught home remedies to prevent unwanted pregnancies, but to be offered an abortion at St. Mungos was nearly unheard of.
“Due to circumstance you have the option to abort the pregnancy now as the chances of both you and the foetus surviving until birth is less than 20%, which is a generous guess,” He said with grave sincerity.
Dorea stilled and placed her hand on her still flat stomach, she had lost the baby weight she had gained from James because of her poor health. Her appetite none existent in the last few months, a fact made worse as realised she was supposed to be eating for two. However, even without being able to feel the life inside of her, she couldn’t imagine doing anything to hurt them; they would be her child, a true miracle baby.
“My child will be born,” she said without hesitation, she had given up hope of having a child before James; to be told she was pregnant again was a miracle she couldn’t give up. Even with such odds she refused to consider the offer given to her; she had been a Black before she was a Potter and Blacks didn’t go down without a fight.
Abbot sighed, having expected the proud woman in front of him to say something along those lines; he had hope that if anybody could defeat such odds it would be this witch.
“Your pregnancy with your heir was hard on you. Both your body and magic weakened and given how such a small amount of time has passed you have yet to recover fully. Even if you were healthy this would be risky because of your age, given your weakened state I recommend immediate bed rest and absolutely no magic usage beyond what is absolutely necessary in only the direst of circumstances.”
Dorea nodded, she knew Charlus wouldn’t be happy - he had just been promoted to head auror, and didn’t have time to take care of James, but she refused to do anything that would potentially hard her unborn child. If she had to be on bed rest she would be on bed rest, She could always just hire somebody to watch over James for the next few months if need be - she didn’t want house elves raising her baby boy.
“I will start you on prenatal potions now, as well as nutrient and strengthening ones. I will not lie to you; this pregnancy will be hard. It is imperative for your safety and that of the child that you try to remain stress free and relaxed until it is time to deliver. Either myself or a college will come by to check on you every week to check on your progress and to see if the potions need to be adjusted.”
Dorea agreed and after receiving her potions and signing the forms to have more delivered weekly, she bid the healer goodbye. Her mind was a daze as she used the public floo to return home.
///
“Ma, Ma, Ma!” she was pulled from her daze by the over excited squeals of her baby boy.
Watching her husband and son together, Dorea couldn’t help but smile. James was a Potter through and through. The only trace of her in him was the black colour of his hair and the faint curl it picked up when it grew too long; everything else was his father. Her thoughts drifted to the baby she carried. Would this child be all Potter as well, or would some of her Black family traits shine through?
“My baby, have you been good for your father?” she asked walking over and giving him a kiss on the cheek and making his squeal even more as he wriggled in his father’s arms to get down.
Charlus however was looking at her with concerned eyes and she knew what he saw; she was pale even for a Black, her eyes shrunk and features drawn yet since she had heard the news she had felt better, she would and could have this baby.
“Dory,” he said making her grimace, she loathed that nickname.
“Charlie,” she said just to see him scowl, laughing when James mimicked his father. Stepping over, she took their son from him and kissed him once more.
“We have things to discuss,” she said with a small smile, even after decades of marriage to such an expressive and emotional man she didn’t like to express emotion so plainly, her upbringing shining through.
“Missy,” she called out for the nanny elf.
“My lady called,” the elf squeaked, appearing with a pop.
“Take James to the nursery and watch over him,” she ordered with soft firmness.
“Yes mistress,” the elf said, taking the baby and holding him his close before disappearing with a pop.
“What is going on Dorea?” Charlus asked with a slight frown, worry marring his features.
“Come sit with me,” she said, drawing away and towards the fire.
Once they were seated, Dorea curled up resting her head against Charlus’ chest she spoke.
“I lied to you today,” she admitted, “I didn’t go to Diagon Alley, I went to St. Mungos.”
Hearing this Charlus stiffened but didn’t speak.
“I'm pregnant.”
Charlus didn’t know what to say, he had resigned himself to passing his title onto one of his distant cousins before James was born, so when they found out Dorea was pregnant he had been ecstatic, and hearing he was to be a father again was just a wondrous. But he couldn’t help but worry - Dorea had been so weak during her pregnancy and he knew she was frail now.
“What have the healers said?” he asked.
“I'm on potions to keep me and our little one strong and healthy. I'm to go onto bed rest, no magic and the healers will be visiting weekly to keep an eye on our progress” she said, unsure if she wanted to tell him about the mortality rate, she knew her husband would already love this baby even having just heard about it but she also knew that if it came down to it he would pick her over their unborn child. “I was offered the chance to abort,” She admitted after a few moments of silence, knowing he would have found out from their healers eventually.
Hearing this Charlus closed his eyes, he could lose his wife. He needed her, James needed her. “You will take it,” he demanded.
Dorea pulled away, and looked at her husband with hurt eyes, “I will not. Our child will be born.”
“I can’t lose you Dory, James can’t lose you. I know we always said we wanted as many children as possible but we don’t need them, we have an heir,” He explained.
“I want this baby Charlus. I know everything will be fine. I will be fine,” she said with determination.
Charlus knew he wouldn’t win when he saw that look in her eyes, silver turned to steel. “If it comes down to it, I will pick you.”
Dorea controlled the flinch that those words made her want to release. “It won’t.”
To call her second pregnancy a nightmare would be putting it mildly. It was as if discovering she was with child had amplified every symptom tenfold. By the time Dorea was ready to give birth, she was simply exhausted - and yet, even through the suffering, she couldn’t help but smile. Looking down at her swollen stomach, she felt a quiet pride: against all odds, her baby girl was healthy.
The healers had worried at first, but her little princess was a fighter. In just a few hours, she would be here. Caesareans were no longer common in their society, but Dorea had opted for one after being told the likelihood of a successful natural birth was low. She was simply not strong enough - the strain could endanger the baby. They had already beaten so many odds, and she refused to falter at the last hurdle.
Charlus had opposed the decision, a product of his upbringing. In light families, cesareans had fallen out of fashion, their view being that a baby had to be “born” naturally to be fully blessed by magic - a notion Dorea found ridiculous. Still, Britain’s pro-light regime had cemented the practice. Dorea did not care. She and her daughter would survive, and they would flourish.
At 17:04 on Saturday, July 31st, 1961, Harriet Lyra Potter was born. Small but healthy, weighing five pounds two ounces, with black curls and blue eyes flecked with green- eyes that would eventually settle into the deepest emerald Dorea had ever seen.
///
Harry held back a sigh as she tugged at the dress Mummy had made her wear. It was pretty, but wearing a pretty dress didn’t change the fact that she was bored. Today was supposed to be special - it was her fifth birthday. That was important, Mummy and Daddy had said so, though Harry wasn’t quite sure why. You got presents and cake on all birthdays, after all.
This year was different because it was family only. All of them were here - Mummy’s family and Daddy’s too. Usually birthday parties were full of Mummy and Daddy’s friends and their children. Sometimes cousins came, but not always, and never Uncle Arcturus.
James had had his important birthday last year when he turned five, but Harry hadn’t been allowed to go. Instead, she and Cousin Regulus had been given a tea party with the elves because Mummy said they were too young. James refused to tell her anything about his party. He said she was a baby and wouldn’t understand because she was stupid.
Ever since James had met Cousin Sirius, he’d started being a real meanie. Regulus agreed with her.
“There you are my darling.”
Looking up, Harry saw her mother walking toward her, graceful as always. Harry knew her mother was the prettiest woman in the world. She’d seen lots of adults - more than twenty, easily—and none of them were as pretty as her Momma.
Cousin Cissa said Harry was lucky, because she looked like her mother instead of her father or James, which meant she’d be pretty when she grew up. But Harry knew her Momma would always be the prettiest.
Cousin Andy just said Harry had strange eyes.
“You’ve kept us all waiting my love,” her Momma scolded softly, brushing the curls that had fallen into her daughters face away.
“I don’t want to come out,” Harry admitted, wrapping her arms her mother and breathing in her comforting scent.
“And why is that?” Dorea asked
“James and Sirius are always mean to me, and everybody is here, and I don’t know why. I don’t like it.”
Dorea laughed lightly at her daughter’s disgruntled face, knowing her daughter was upset about being in the dark. Her little star was always so inquisitive, a little raven in the making. “It’s your birthday my love, our family is here to celebrate with you.”
“But why is it different this year?”
At her daughter’s pleading look, Dorea couldn’t help but smile. Where James was all Potter, Harriet was unmistakably a Black - from her delicate features to her long, dark curls. The only true oddity was her eyes: bright emerald green, a colour neither Dorea nor Charlus could claim with any certainty. Even Harriet’s mannerisms leaned Black rather than Potter. She was quiet, observant, and from what Dorea had already learned, delightfully sneaky.
“We’re going to call on our ancestral family magic to bless you,” Dorea said, watching as Harriet’s eyes widened.
“But you said I wasn’t allowed to do magic until Hogwarts.”
Dorea laughed softly. It was tradition - after a child’s fifth birthday, families gathered to perform a ritual invoking their ancestral magic, a moment that often marked the beginning of a child’s own magical expression. Harriet, however, had already begun to show bursts of accidental magic - strong ones, at that. A promising sign of her future power.
It was because of those bursts - bursts Dorea strongly suspected were not entirely accidental - that she had forbidden her daughter from using magic until Hogwarts. It had helped, somewhat. Still, Dorea had noticed that her little star always seemed to get into whatever -and wherever- she pleased.
///
Harriet watched in fascination as her Daddy and Great-Uncle Arcturus began casting runes across the floor. She didn’t know what all of them meant, or why they were combined that way, but she felt proud to recognise a few. She liked runes - they were like pictures that held magic. She had even snuck some books on runes from the family library to study them on her own. Her reading was already excellent, better than James’s according to their tutors, so she had no trouble reading the names of the runes from the books.
“Look at the little baby,” came a high pitched but snarky voice behind her.
Turning Harriet thought the urge to stick her tongue out, Momma said that ladies didn’t do that, but James was so mean.
“I'm not a baby.”
“What’s that? I can’t understand baby talk.”
“Stop it or I’ll tell Mommy you being mean again and she’ll be angry at you.”
James flushed slightly at that, their mother had grounded him for a week after the last time he had been caught taunting his sister.
“Waaaa, waaaa. That’s all we can hear baby,” came an equally high and snarky voice from behind her brother just before Sirius Black appeared. A mean smirk on his face as he and James greeted each other with matching smirks that suddenly died on their faces.
“Leave her alone you brats.”
Turning away Harriet saw that cousin Bella had come up behind her, smiling Harry skipped towards her oldest cousin. Bellatrix Black was Harry's favourite cousin with Regulus and Narcissa coming joint second place. Andy was okay, she tended to be nice to her most of the time but she was boring, still boring was better than mean like Sirius.
“Bella,” Harriet greeted, smiling brightly when the 11 year old lent down to level. She liked when people did that.
“How are you my littlest star?” Bellatrix asked, kissing her forehead before continuing, “Have these two been bothering you for long?” her dark eyes gleaming with something Harriet didn’t recognise as she glared at the two, now pale, six year olds. Pulling out her recently acquired wand and giving it a twirl with a smile, Bella was happy to see them both step back
further.
“No, they’re just being troll faces.” Harriet said, happy that Bella was defending her. Mommy always tired but she didn’t like punishing James and Daddy usually just laughed it off as boys being boys and told Harry to stop complaining. Harriet didn’t think she liked boys very much if this was what they were like, apart from cousin Reggie, he was different because he wasn’t mean. He also liked books and quiet. Harriet liked both of those things.
“I see, well then you pair listen up. I'm 11 now, I have a wand and I'm not afraid to use it. If I see you being mean to my little Lyra I won’t hesitate to hex you both and give you a real reason to cry.” Both boys nodded and jumped back from the wand wielding witch. Harriet giggled as they ran off, but stopped when she heard Sirius call Bella crazy. She wasn’t crazy she was nice to Harriet.
///
Standing in the middle of the rune circle, Harriet smiled as she heard her Daddy chanting. Her tutor, Miss Bones, had started teaching her Latin over Christmas, but she didn’t understand many of the words. Something tugged at her, though, and she frowned. Daddy’s magic was… nice, but it didn’t feel like hers. It wasn’t bright and colorful or loud. His magic was contained, like a bowl of water, while hers ran free and lively, like the stream behind their manor.
Feeling the tug stronger, Harriet let some of her magic flow toward Daddy and giggled as the runes began to glow faintly.
Charlus slowly began the ritual. As head of Harriet’s family, his magic should have resonated most strongly with hers - but it didn’t. As the ritual ended, Charlus found himself unsure. He knew she had magic, and judging by the feel of it, a fair amount, but if it couldn’t be drawn out properly, she could be classed a squib - something the healers had warned could happen after Dorea’s difficult pregnancy. Still, the runes had reacted, even slightly, which meant Harriet had some natural ability. Hopefully enough for Hogwarts.
He admitted, reluctantly, that he didn’t have much of a relationship with his youngest. He had refused to bond with her at birth, afraid she wouldn’t survive. By the time she proved herself a fighter, he had been busy with his duties as Head Auror and ensuring James, as his heir, didn’t feel pushed aside. He loved his daughter, certainly - but he had to admit that Dorea had done most of the raising.
As Charlus finished, Arcturus began his chanting without missing a beat. As head of the Black family, he was obliged to finish the ritual and draw on the remainder of Harriet’s magic. Having seen how little came forth earlier, he didn’t have high hopes. It was rare for a child to inherit magic from the line they weren’t named after. Harriet was a Potter; for all that her mother was a Black, it was Potter magic she was expected to inherit.
Then it happened. Harriet’s magic latched onto Arcturus’s, and it flowed through him like a geyser. He almost gasped. He had never felt such a connection to their family’s ancestral magic - pure, free, and unrestrained.
Harriet stilled at the sudden surge. It felt right, like coming home. She let her magic flow freely, not even noticing her eyes had closed until gasps filled the room. Looking around in wonder, she saw the room glowing - not the runes, not the ritual, but her.
Dorea felt her breath catch. She had known her daughter was special from the moment she survived against all odds, but this—this was beyond anything she had imagined. Last year, when they had called James’s magic, he had reacted strongly to Charlus’s side but barely to hers. Now, Harriet was doing the opposite. Never before had she witnessed a magical awakening with such power or purity. The runes that called on their magic glowed brighter than any she had ever seen. And through her closed eyes, light shone from Harriet herself - a gift of magical sight, rare even among the Black, Prewitt, and Prince families, a bloodline inheritance to envy.
Charlus didn’t know what to feel as he watched the runes explode into colour. Relief, certainly - his daughter wasn’t a squib. Pride, absolutely - but a part of him recoiled. This magic, so attuned to the Blacks, wasn’t what he had expected. The Potters were a light family, and marrying Dorea had always been a risk; she leaned neutral-dark, rare in her line. But a child so firmly dark-inclined, with a bloodline gift of the Blacks manifesting through her? Charlus wasn’t sure whether to feel proud, awed, or… wary. He had grown up knowing the cost of darkness and power.
///
Harriet looked around the garden with wonder, eyes tracing patterns that were invisible to most, but to her as clear as day. The wards that surrounded the grounds of castle black were extensive and beautiful - Harriet could trace then for hours and still find something new in them. Since her birthday 5 years ago, uncle Arcturus had taken a much stronger interest in her and by default her family, though he made it clear he didn’t think much of father and therefore James, who was his miniature in all ways.
“Got your head in the clouds little star?” came a teasing voice that Harriet loved.
Turning Harriet blinked and focused on her cousin, blocking out her sight. “Bella,” Harry greeted, having not seen her favourite cousin in almost a year.
The sixteen year old witch smiled and greeted Harry with her customary head kiss. “Have you missed me Lyra?” the older witch giggled, spinning with her arms out to give her a show just in case Harry had forgotten when she looked like from all angles.
“Yes, James and Sirius have be even worse since they got their letters and wands,” she said, her tone dry as she allowed her energetic cousin to drag her back towards the gathering and away from the wards.
“Little blood traitors. I’ll make sure they learn to leave you alone once they come to school,” Bella hissed, her face shifting instantly from innocent joy to something darker.
“Mother said not to call them that.”
Bella pulled a face. They were little blood traitors, she thought. Twirling once more, she decided on, “Your mother is a good wife,” not wanting to upset her favourite little cousin - or start an argument that would inevitably draw Uncle Arcturus’s attention. The old man was shockingly protective of their littlest star.
Harriet frowned at the non-answer. She hadn’t even known what a blood traitor really was when Bella first started calling Sirius one, followed quickly by James and their father. She had asked her mother once, only to get a pensive look, a non-answer, and a promise to explain when she was older. Not satisfied, she had next asked her father- which had been a mistake. He had shouted at her and threatened to ground her if she ever used such a foul word. After that, she hadn’t wanted to ask Bella or Cissa, so she cornered Reggie and forced him to explain.
Blood traitors were just that: people who betrayed their blood, their family - but more importantly, those who betrayed magic itself. Magic was everything. All witches and wizards had family magic, aligned to certain fields and classifications that could not be ignored. Being dark- or light-inclined didn’t change that.
Harriet had initially assumed blood traitors were only those inclined toward light magic—and had been relieved to be wrong. Blood traitors were those who knew that magic was sentient, that it was a gift, yet chose to ignore it. They took it for granted, denying certain kinds of magic and even wiping out family magic. They disregarded the solstices where magic was honoured, and they cut away entire branches of magic they deemed forbidden or dark. They would destroy the very thing they themselves were.
“Speaking of wives, I overheard uncle talking about a contract with the Lestranges.”
“You’re a little sneak really aren’t you little star.”
Harriet laughed softly and gave her cousin some privacy. She knew Bella had liked the Lestrange heir for years and was happy to let the subject drop - especially since Bella’s accusation that Harriet was a sneak was true, at least a little. People often overlooked her, and she was naturally quiet and unassuming.
It was exactly how she knew something was stirring in the shadows, and that her family would soon be caught in the middle of it. Her father had been angry lately. He wasn’t home much, and when he was, he seemed tense and easily provoked. Even their mother felt the brunt of it. He had begun bringing his work home, holding meetings in his study - and Harriet had even seen Albus Dumbledore there a few times.
At first, she hadn’t meant to overhear much. But certain words leapt out: Death Eaters, Dark Lord, murder. They were impossible to ignore. So yes, she often found herself near her father during his meetings, especially when he forgot -or chose not- to place silencing wards. Not that those wards would have stopped her for long. Uncle Arcturus had taught her to unravel and manipulate most basic wards last year, and with her magical sight, doing so was like untangling a ball of yarn: tricky, but far from impossible.
It wasn’t just his anger that worried her; it was his new attitude toward magic and family. For the past few years, her father had been trying to pull them away from the Black family. He claimed he didn’t like what they stood for - that their dark magic was dangerous. He tolerated Sirius, calling him “a good boy in a bad situation,” and allowed him to torment Harriet alongside James. But slowly, he began refusing family events, declining dinner and party invitations.
If it hadn’t been for her mother insisting Harriet be allowed to see her family on her birthday, she doubted she would even be here today. Her father had rejected the last four invitations outright and hadn’t allowed James to come, instead taking him to Diagon Alley to finish his school shopping. Things had gotten to the point where Harriet often had to sneak away to visit her family, with her mother covering for her.
“I see you found my reclusive birthday girl.”
Smiling with her eyes, Harriet masked her joy at seeing her mother. They were in public, and she knew better than to flaunt her emotions - though she doubted she was very convincing.
“Mother,” she greeted softly.
“Aunt Dorea,” Bella chirped, spinning with a giggle before skipping away, which Harriet found both appalling and fascinating. Only Bella could act so carefree without judgement from those around her. Then again, Bellatrix Black was already one of the deadliest duelists of the decade, and everyone present knew better than to cross her - or any member of the Black family.
“Are you having a good time, my darling?” Dorea asked.
“Yes, Mother. It is nice to be with family.”
The words caused a small crack in Dorea’s composure. She was grateful for her carefully maintained pureblood mask, hiding the worry stirring inside her. She knew what was coming; she had been watching the signs and could no longer deny it. Lines were being drawn in the sand, and she feared for her youngest when it all came to a head.
Harriet was truly her daughter. Dorea was a Black, devoted to tradition, magic, and preserving their way of life, keeping magic strong. Harriet shared that devotion - how could she not, when she could see magic in the very air around her? Yet, even with her traditional beliefs, Dorea had fallen in love with Charlus, who cared little for the sentience of magic. To him, magic simply was. He followed most traditions only for her sake.
Dorea knew the Dark Lord was preparing to make his move. She might not have been entrusted with all the details, but her family could not hide their plans from her, nor could her husband, who would oppose him alongside Dumbledore and the other light families. Why Charlus could not simply remain neutral, she did not understand - this fight was certain to tear their family apart.
///
Harriet knew her fear was irrational - her Hogwarts letter would come. Yet, like all children waiting for something they longed for, she couldn’t help her eyes drifting between the clock and the window as she sat, waiting for the owl to appear.
“Perhaps they realised what a loser you are and didn’t send one?” James taunted, sitting opposite her at the table.
“If the basis for entering Hogwarts was as such, you would have never gotten in, brother dear,” she shot back, pleased to see her formal speech confuse him for a moment- until he realised he’d been insulted.
“You’re such a prissy little brat. You think you’re better than me just because some old racist related to Mum thinks you’re special.”
“No, I know I’m better than you because I have a brain and know how to use it, unlike you, dragon breath!” she hissed, adding the childish insult in her anger.
Her brother’s face flushed crimson, his hazel eyes narrowing as he prepared to explode - but before he could, a delicate cough came from the doorway.
“And here I thought my children were grown-up enough to be left alone for breakfast, yet simply leaving you two together results in petty fights.”
Both immediately stopped, cheeks burning. Harriet felt the shame more keenly - her mother was her closest confidant, while James was very much a Daddy’s boy. Harriet, she would admit without shame, was a Mommy’s girl.
Seeing her mother standing there, another fear surfaced - one she wouldn’t allow herself to acknowledge. She wanted to go to school, to get her letter, to learn, to see her family every day and make friends. Yet going meant leaving her mother, who seemed to grow weaker with each passing day. Growing up, she had never noticed her mother’s frailty. To Harriet, Dorea had always been giant, invincible, perfect. Now the shakiness and delicate air could no longer be ignored. Dorea was still beautiful, graceful, and magical, but she seemed fragile, as if a strong gust of wind could carry her away.
“Sorry, Mother,” Harriet said, James quickly following suit.
“It’s not me you should be apologising to.”
Masking her frown, Harriet turned to her brother, forcing her eyes not to roll. He was showing no intention of masking his distaste at apologising.
“I’m sorry, brother. I was being childish and taking my fears out on you,” she said, delighted to see her formal speech twist his face in frustration again.
“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” he grumbled, standing and leaving the kitchen.
Dorea sighed as he departed. She loved her son dearly, but sometimes he was so much like his father. Harriet watched him go with a concealed smirk - she had won that round.
Her smirk quickly morphed into confusion as her mother sent a stinging hex sailing toward her head. Yelping, Harriet spun around and pouted.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you did,” Dorea said to her daughter, silver eyes glittering with amusement.
Harriet let her mask drop and giggled. “It’s so easy to wind him up, though, Mother.”
Smirking, Dorea sat down and waited for one of the elves to appear with breakfast. “Easy, yes - but he is your brother. You should try to get along with him.”
Harriet nodded. “I know, but he’s always such a troll to me.”
Dorea sighed. “One day you’ll both realise how blessed you are to have each other. I hope I get to see it.”
Harriet froze at the words. “You’re not going anywhere, Mother.”
Dorea smiled softly at her youngest. “I’ll try not to,” she promised, before noticing a Hogwarts barn owl perched on the windowsill—it must have just arrived.
“I think you’ve got some mail, little star,” she said.
Harriet jumped up at the sight of the brown bird and practically ran to it. She took the letter, gave the owl a few treats she always kept on hand for this very purpose, and then slowly walked back toward her mother.
“It’s not going to open itself, silly,” Dorea said, after Harriet hesitated, staring at the seal.
Harriet flushed, still overwhelmed - this was her Hogwarts letter.
“Should I wait for Father?” she asked. She hadn’t seen him yet and assumed he would come down for breakfast before leaving for work.
Dorea hid a wince. “I’m sorry, my darling. Your father had to go in early today because of an emergency. He would be here if he could.”
Harriet nodded. She understood - truly - but couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment. She remembered the fuss last year when James received his letter. They had celebrated together and gone to get his wand as a family.
“So they actually let you in, then,” James’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Of course they did, dear. Your baby sister will one day be a great witch, just as I know you will be a great wizard.”
James flushed at the praise. “Maybe you’re not such a loser after all, then,” he said, his smirk lacking its usual bite.
“Or they lowered the standards with you,” Harriet shot back—but this time, she smiled at her brother, a rare thing. Usually she kept her emotions hidden around James, just to annoy him.
James laughed as he came back into the room - and did something that shocked Harriet. He pulled her into a hug.
“Congratulations, brat,” he whispered.
Harriet froze for a moment, then remembered to wrap her arms around him in return. Dorea watched, a small smile tugging at her lips, and felt hope. Perhaps things wouldn’t be as difficult as she feared.