A lack of foresight.

'Tap-tap-tap.'

Consciousness didn’t return, so much as lazily drift in like waves on a beach. And like tidal water, it slipped easily back out into the depths of sleep.

'Scritch-scritch-scritch.'

Again, wakefulness washed over the shore of her mind. It went a little further, hung on a little longer, but began its inevitable slide back out.

'Tap-tap-tap.'

Only for another wave to come in before the last could go all the way back out, leaving him just awake enough to register how warm and comfortable he was before drifting back asleep.

'Scritch-scritch-scritch.'

Blearily, Harry opened his eyes a sliver to glare at the hint of sunlight coloring the ceiling before pulling over the covers and willing sleep to return.

'Tap-tap-tap.'

But it wouldn’t, as much as he wished it would. Whatever was making that noise had persisted long enough to get his brain going, thinking of all the chores that needed doing.

Taking out the trash would be first after making breakfast. The Dursleys always let little things like that pile up when they knew he was coming back.

'Scritch-scritch-scritch.'

Then there would be the yard. It would need to be mowed and the flowerbeds weeded.

'Tap-tap-tap.'

Hmm. Maybe he could clean the kitchen instead. Emptying out the cabinets, wiping them down, and washing all the pots and pans before putting them back would conveniently take him all day.

Which would be nice. Save him from having to get sunburnt for one more day.

'Scritch-scritch-scritch.'

He hated getting sunburnt.

'Tap-tap-tap.'

Just like how he was starting to hate whatever it was that was making that noise.

Opening his crusty eyes, Harry blinked a few times to… to…

An unfamiliar bedroom so strikingly clear, he could feel his eyes straining, as if they weren’t able to take in so much detail at once.

For a few moments, Harry merely laid there as he looked around, his groggy mind not yet up to the task of processing just how good his vision had become.

Too good, in fact. Slowly, the straining began to turn into a stinging ache, not unlike muscles that had initially proven strong enough to lift a very heavy object but were failing to hold it.

“Ow!” Reaching up to rub his eyes in an attempt to give them some relief, Harry was rewarded with a double stab of pain that shot back into his brain as soon as he put any pressure on them.

'Tap-tap-tap!'

Miserably stinging eyes now filling with tears, Harry glared at the window curtains as the noise returned with newfound vigor.

Harry angrily wracked his still foggy brain, trying to piece together what in the world was going on as he threw back the covers and slipped out of bed.

Only to tumble to the floor when his legs failed to hold him up.

Dazed and blinded by tears, Harry slowly pushed himself up onto hands and knees, arms quivering, as most unwelcome realization made itself known.

Every inch of his body was the more worn out and sore then he could ever recall it being.

It felt as if he’d spent an entire morning running quidditch drills with Oliver, spent the following afternoon flying practice games with Angelina, only then for someone to take one of those pointed meat hammers to every bit of flesh he had while he slept.

That, or Dudley had managed to get ahold of him.

With a great deal more huffing and puffing and grunting and groaning then it should have taken, Harry dragged himself back atop the bed, where he lay for a moment before pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the mattress.

Using a pillow, Harry very carefully dabbed his eyes clear of the still running tears, only to have yet another unwanted realization.

He was wearing a dress.

Immediately Harry’s mind went to Fred and George. Waking up in girls’ clothing meant those two were involved.

But before his thoughts could go any further, his mind registered something else his cleared vision was seeing.

There were two oddly familiar lumps on his chest.

Finally, it clicked.

He wasn’t a boy in a dress.

She was a girl in a nightgown.

The events of the past… thirty something hours came rushing back. The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, and St. Mungo’s. Mary Ann, Snape, Narcissa and Luna.

And the ritual!

Harry’s hands flew back to her face. Dainty fingers felt around, confirming that the face they were feeling wasn’t the one they were used to knowing. But that wasn’t enough.

She looked around and sighted a tall mirror in the corner next to her trunk.

Mindful now of the state she was in, Harry carefully stood and – using the bedroom furniture for support - slowly made her way around the room on uncertain legs to stand before the mirror.

Yet there wasn’t enough light in the corner to satisfy her need to know beyond all doubt. Turning about, she made her way back around to the bedside window, threw open the curtains, and was reminded what had gotten her out of bed in the first place.

“Hedwig! You’re- ouch!” Opening the window, Harry yelped as Hedwig, fast as lightening, nipped one her fingers hard. Yanking her hand back, it didn’t take much for her to guess why the owl was angry.

Hedwig glared up at her, looking very much like Mrs. Weasley did whenever any of her children had done something that left her worried about their safety. But only until the moment they safety was confirmed, leaving her free to switch to being absolutely furious at them for making her worry in the first place.

It took a great deal of apologies and promises of bacon to calm Hedwig down enough to allow Harry’s fingers to come safely near her. While Harry knew owls, even wizarding owls, couldn’t understand speech, he’d always liked to think that Hedwig understood regardless.

Stroking the snowy owls’ feathers, Harry learned on the windowsill and breathed in the morning air as her eyes adjusted to the light. While London couldn’t compete with Hogwarts, there was still a pleasant freshness to the summer breeze that felt invigorating. The rain clouds had moved on sometime in the night, leaving the sky a clear blue that freely let the sun’s rays shine down. The air had a mistiness to it, the dampness left from the rain just beginning to burn off.

They stayed there for a while, Harry not feeling any desire to move from her spot as she gave her aching legs a break and took in the sights with new eyes.

It was as a woman with a baby stroller turned the corner and disappeared from view - Harry watching the mother and child as they passed by - that she remembered the other thing she wanted to check.

“Oh yeah. I got my eyes fixed last night. Do they look the same to you?” Harry asked as she picked up Hedwig.

“Hoot.”

“Besides the whole girl thing.”

“Hoot.”

Back in front of the mirror, Harry thought there might actually be one. Only, she couldn’t figure out what it was. Leaning close to the mirror, she examined her eyes. As far as she could tell, they were still the exact same they’d always been.

Yet they weren’t.

The more Harry stared, the more enhanced she her eyes seemed to become. It was as if his old eyes had been made by a painter, one with skills recognizable "good," or "better than average." But for her new eyes, it was like another painter had taken what the first had done and upgraded them as far as a true master possible could.

Little imperfections gone. The whites clean and eyes made perfectly symmetrical. They were the same green color, but somehow more… more…

'Scritch-scritch-scritch'

Harry blinked and looked down at Hedwig. Hedwig blinked and looked up at Harry.

With a start, she knew. “Buckbeak!”

Newfound energy had Harry hurrying out of the room. But right as she reached the stairs, she stopped. This was the fourth floor. Turning around, the door to the bedroom she’d come out of was still there, the only door at the end of the hallway.

Several heartbeats passed as she stared at it before shaking her head and continuing.

Down one floor, she hurried to Mrs. Blacks former bedroom, bare feet thumping on the wood floor, and slowly opened the door.

Buckbeak the hippogriff jumped to his feet and turned about, giving up at clawing at whatever was beneath the bed.

Harry let out sigh of relief, not knowing why she’d been so worried. Buckbeak had probably been left locked up and alone since at least yesterday morning, when Narcissa had kicked everyone out. To go that long without food or water, while unpleasant, shouldn’t have brought him any real harm.

She almost took a step into the room before a thought occurred to her. Would Buckbeak recognize her like this? Hedwig and Luna had, but Narcissa, Moody and Tonks hadn’t.

Considering there was a hungry hippogriff involved, she decided it would be best to play this safe.

Making sure to keep unblinking eye contact, Harry bowed from her spot in the doorframe. Buckbeak stared back for a moment before returning the gesture.

Harry let out a sign of relief, stepping over to Buckbeak and brushed his neck feathers with her fingers. Buckbeak clicked his beak happily before poking around her sides, seemingly hoping she had a bag of rats hanging there.

“Yeah, you must be pretty hungry by now. How about we fix that?”

---

“And then I told Luna I might as well go ahead with being a spy. Because it’s not like I was doing anyone any good being stuck back at the Dursley’s.” Harry remarked as she flipped some bacon. It sizzled wonderfully, sending a drop of grease onto the stained cooking apron that protected her pristinely white nightgown.

Buckbeak didn’t reply, too busy ripping chunks of meat off a large ham, a few scattered turkey bones being the only thing left from his first serving. Hedwig at least spared a tired look, as if wondering how her master kept managing to get themselves into situations like this, before digging back into her own small pile of bacon.

Leaving the last of the meaty strips to finish, Harry picked up a half-eaten piece of strawberry jam slathered toast and took a bite. The moment she’d gotten food in front of her, a roaring appetite had made itself known.

Not that that was so unusual. Between Mrs. Weasley’s home cooking and his regularly limited access to food at the Dursley’s, he always ate like a pig whenever he got back to the wizarding world.

“So, what have you been up to?” She asked, loading up a plate and sitting next to Hedwig. She ignored her, focusing on her own food.

“Yeah, I suppose I still deserve that, don’t I?” Harry remarked, finishing the piece of toast off and starting on her own bacon. Stacked on the table before her was his books from last year, newly filled with Luna style doodles, and wondered what today would hold.

It felt strange how much had happened over the last day and change. He’d gone from alone and ****, to a gender-swapped spy with a new maybe-girlfriend that was helping in infiltrating a cult of evil wizards, to having breakfast with an owl and a hippogriff.

“Sounds like a bad joke.” She thought distractedly, picking at a piece of bacon stuck in her teeth. “All we need is a house elf to round it all off.”

Speaking of, where was Kreacher?

The ravenette glanced around, jaw clenching at the idea of the traitorous house elf. If Kreacher had only told the truth, he, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville never would have gone running off the ministry to fall into Voldemort’s trap.

And if that hadn’t happened, Sirius would be sitting here right now, laughing his head off at how Harry had gone and accidently turned himself into Harriet.

Harry stared unseeing at her food, no longer hungry at the thought of Sirius. Anger filled her appetites place. Anger for Kreacher. Anger for Umbridge. For Snape, for Draco, for Bellatrix. Dumbledore, Fudge, Lucius. On and on and more and more.

There was no end for the people blame, who were all at fault for Sirius’s **** in some way.

It was nothing compared to the hatred she felt for herself.

Harry squeezed her hands as tightly as she could into fists to stop them from shaking. But that hadn’t worked before and it didn’t work now. She pushed the palms of her hands into her eyes, wishing the tears of pain would somehow overrule the coming tears of anguish. But they didn't. Instead, they all began to spill out together as that night played out for the hundredth time in her mind.

How many times could he have stopped it all from happening? There had been so many decisions he and he alone had made. Any one of them made differently could have changed everything.

If he’d listened to Hermione or trusted Snape. Or if he’d not trusted Kreacher. The floo had allowed him to call Grimmauld. Why hadn’t he just traveled here himself and make sure Sirius was actually gone? Or the mirror! He’d had that mirror sitting in his trunk for half a year. Why hadn’t he checked what it was? Why had he been so determined to suffer in silence through Snape’s occlumency lessons like he had with Umbridge’s detentions?

The thought of how he’d missed out on six months of being able to talk to Sirius whenever he’d wanted, unimpeded, brought out a choked sob.

She punched the table as hard as she could, getting a startled squawk from Hedwig and Buckbeak. But she ignored them, forcing the palm back to her face, uncaring of the blood now dripping down her arm.

But even with the pain, the tears still spilled just as the sobs threatened to. She locked down, clenching ever muscle in her body, not even breathing as she smothered the feelings with all her might.

Many seconds ticked by as the trembling faded.

With mechanically slowness, Harry lowered her arms and resumed eating, hunched over in the chair. When the plate was empty, she sat there, staring at it blankly.

“He’s getting clothes.” She said emotionlessly a few minutes later, nodding her head. Matter settled, she stood and went about cleaning up the kitchen. It wasn’t until all the dishes were in the sink that she noticed her still bleeding hand. With a sigh, she ran cold water over the knuckles till the flow stopped.

Returning to the table, she sat in silence, watching a satisfied Buckbeak groom himself before looking around the room. “You know, I bet there’s still a lot of cleaning left to be done. Since Kreacher won’t do it, I wonder if Dobby -”

The rest of her musings were cut off by the aforementioned house elf appearing into the kitchen with a ‘Pop!’

“Mister Potter has spoken of Dobby with a task in mind! Dobby is ready to…” The house elf took in the sight of the kitchen and its inhabitants. He starred in confusion at Harry with wide eyes before disappearing, only to reappear nearly instantly. He did this several more times, looking more and more confused each time.

“Dobby, hold on a second.” Harry said, it having taken her a moment to mentally get back in gear. “It’s me, Harry.”

“But Dobby knows Mister Potter is not Mistress Potter. Yet Dobby also knows he came when called by yous. How can yous be Mister Potter?”

Harry opened her mouth, ready to say something like, “I screwed up a potion.” But couldn’t bring herself to blow off the much more liked house elf with such a lackluster answer. On the other hand, she wasn’t in the mood to go over the entire story at the moment. The only thing she really wanted was to go upstairs and back to bed.

But she knew she wouldn’t sleep. All she would do is lay there and think.

Sighing, she adjusted on the seat into a more comfortable position and gave a not embarrassing version of the last day and a half.

“Oh, Mister Potter shows how brave he is yet again!” Dobby exalted after she’d finished.

“I’m really not. This opportunity basically fell in my lap.” Harry said with a tired smile, knowing full well it wouldn’t dissuade the house elf but feeling the need to say it anyways.

“But yous are! To walk willing into such danger yous not be needing to!” Dobby continued, looking like he was about to cry over Harry’s sheer nobleness.

Harry though cleared her throat uncomfortably. That remark felt like it landed a bit too close to Hermione’s observation of his “saving people” thing.

“Look. I’m not doing anything all that dangerous. All I’m going to be doing is seeing what I can pick up from the **** Eaters. It’s not like I’m going to try and steal Voldemort diary or anything.”

Dobby shuddered at Voldemort’s name, which at least served to calm him down. “It is still being a good thing to do. If yous be needing Dobbys help in any of ways, Dobby would be happy to do it.”

“Thank you, Dobby. I’ll keep you in mind if I get into trouble.” Harry said genuinely. “For the moment, I was actually wondering if you were available for hire. This place isn’t as bad as it used to be, but there’s still a lot to be done.”

“Dobby can be doing it!” Dobby declared, only to deflate a little after he seemed to remember something. “Not all the times though. Dobby is very busy with all his work at Hogwarts.”

“That’s fine. Like I said, the worst has already been taken care of. Just get to the rest whenever it works for you. How much do you want to be paid?”

Dobby was silent for a moment, looking conflicted. “Dobby wants to do the work for free, as its for Mister Potter. But Dobby is also a free house elf, and promised to never do work from free ever again.”

“I won’t hire you for free, Dobby. I will pay you.” Harry smiled. This would make Hermione happy. “How about I pay you whatever you’re getting paid at Hogwarts?”

The house elf looked like he was struggling immensely to accept the deal, quivering on the spot, but managed to **** out a nod.

“Great. I’ll show you around.” Harry stood, keen on wasting time with Dobby. “Oh, by the way, this is Buckbeak. He’s been staying up in Mrs. Blacks old bedroom on the third floor. There’s a portrait of her in the hallway that starts…”

A realization came to her and she walked out into the hallway. It still sported with spell damage from the previous morning. None of the spells, however, looked to have struck the pair of curtains covering Walburga’s painting.

Harry strode silently over to it, Dobby following curiously behind.

“This is her portrait.” Harry whispered to Dobby. “She starts screaming whenever anyone makes any noise. But now that I think about it, she hasn’t made a sound this entire time.”

Harry shook her head. “But that’s not the point. There’s a permanent sticking charm holding her there, so we’ve all had to suffer with her screaming at us all the time. But Dobby, is elf magic different to wizard magic? Do you think you could remove her?”

Dobby gave a shrug, voice low. “Dobby does not know if he can. With elf magic, some wizard things it can undo and some it can not. But Dobby will try.”

The house elf tiptoed closer to the curtains and scratched his chin in thought, looking like a movie thief examining a safe. He shifted around, looking at the curtains and the bottom of the portrait frame from every possible angle. Examined the wall itself, giving it little pokes with a fingertip here and there. Dobby even waved his hands around, as if trying to sense if the curtains were hot to the touch.

After several minutes of this, Dobby gave a little nod to himself, took a step back, and snapped his fingers.

Under the curtains, the portrait shivered.

‘Pop!’ Kreacher appeared right in front of Harry, making her jump. The house elf spun around, the crazed look in his eyes of someone who’d been pushed to the edge.

“Yous will not be not be harming my mistress! Yous will not do… do…” The wind was taking out of the Kreacher’s raging sails as the elderly elf took both of them in. Several moments passed as he stared at them both. “Kreacher does not recognize the girl and the house elf. Who are yous?”

“I am Seirios Black.” Harry said quickly, playing into her role and cutting Dobby off from saying anything incriminating. She had no desire for the traitor to know who she actually was. “And this is Dobby the Free House Elf. I’ve hired him to clean this place up. Who are you and why are you in my house?”

Kreacher’s eyes bulged in surprise at her name and bulged even further at Dobby’s, looking like his eyes might fall out of his head. It took him a minute to get his voice working again, which suited Dobby fine, giving him the time to preen at how official sounding Harry had made his title out to be.

“I am Kreacher, sworn to the service of the House of Black. And the only house elf the Black family be needing!” He glared at Dobby, apparently taking the other elf’s presence as encroachment on his territory.

“Well from what I’ve seen, you’ve done a poor job of it.” Harry snapped, having zero patience for Kreacher giving Dobby attitude, let alone for Kreacher in general. “And I’ve seen what Dobby can do I, so I know he’s fantastic.”

Dobby looked like he was about ready to melt at Harry’s praise, but she was too busy taking vindictive pleasure at how the old house elf recoiled at her words to notice.

“In fact, I’ve heard you actually helped get Sirius Black killed. You know, my father.” That shocked Dobby straight back to earth and into looking horrified. Kreacher, however, was defiant.

“Ungrateful son of my beloved mistress. Miss Bella was right to finish what my mistress started!”

“Well I’m finishing what Sirius started. After Dobby gets rid of this painting, I’m getting rid of you!” She turned to Dobby. “Please Dobby, carry on.”

Dobby raised his hand to snap his fingers again, only for Kreacher to hit him with a fierce tackle that dragged both the house elves to the ground.

“Hey!” Harry yelled, stepping in at once drag the two apart. But when she managed to get her hands around Kreacher’s middle to drag him off Dobby, she caught an elbow to the nose. The blow didn’t hurt much, only catching her off guard. But it did serve to set Dobby off into an anger Harry hadn’t know he was even capable of possessing.

“You are a bad elf! The baddest of elves!” Dobby yelled, one hand around Kreacher’s neck and the other landing blow after blow on the older elf’s head.

“Kreacher is the greatest elf of the noble House of Black!” Kreacher snarled, managing to poke Dobby in the eye before getting a knee into his ribs.

Harry tried again to lift Kreacher off Dobby. But by now, the two were so entangled that she ended up hoisting both of them off the floor. Nearly falling over backwards from the flailing load, she loudly ordered. “Both of you! Knock it off!”

The house elves fell apart as if unable to touch one another. Dobby landed on his backside while Kreacher struggled to escape Harry’s grip. “My true mistress knows Kreacher was right! She knows! She will tell!”

And before Harry could stop him, Kreacher raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

The curtains covering Walburga’s painting were ripped off their rails. For a fraction of a second, Harry caught the sight of Sirius’s mother, mouth wide and eyes rolling, before the sound hit her like a physical blow.

She dropped Kreacher to cover her ears. Maybe it had to do with being so close to the painting, but this was the loudest Harry had ever heard Mrs. Black. Belatedly, she realized that The Order must have done something to the curtains to either shut the painting up or block her voice from getting out.

It felt like it might be the latter, as Harry decided it must have taken Mrs. Black quite some time to work herself up to such a painfully high volume.

Harry felt the floor start to shake a second after the screaming started, and looked back in time to see Hedwig come rocketing out of the kitchen and disappearing upstarts, Buckbeak pounding out into the hallway right behind her.

Feathers bristling and wings out as far as the hallway would allow, he came racing towards Harry, who flattened against the wall to let the Hippogriff past. He came to a skidding stop in from of Mrs. Black’s portrait and started screeching right back at the woman, looking much like a very large, very angry guard dog.

“Dobby!” She called, trying to be heard above the calamity of noise. The house elf tried to find a way past the hippogriff separating them before risking a dive under Buckbeak’s belly, narrowly dodging its angrily pawing talons.

“Get rid of the painting!” Harry tried to tell him. But Dobby, hands over his own ears, shook his head that he couldn’t understand her. She got down on one knee so they were closer and tried again. This time he nodded and snapped his fingers once more at the portrait. The painting shivered a second time, but held.

Dobby looked to her and shook his head.

“Then get rid of the wall!” She cried.

Dobby nodded and took aim, only to be hit with yet another tackle by Kreacher, who apparently took her order to stop fighting in the way that there wasn’t anything in it that kept them from starting a new one.

Harry cursed and tried to **** the two apart for the second time, having to take her hands of her ears and suffer what seemed like a doubling of the noise.

“You will not! You will be doing nothing to the wall of my mistress!” Kreacher cried, foaming at the mouth with rage. With one great heave, Harry tore the two apart and shrieked with all her might.

“Then get rid of the house!”

Silence.

Breathing heavily, Harry looked up to see Walburga Black peering down at her, slack jawed and wide eyed. It was an expression mirrored by Kreacher, who additionally looked like he’d just heard words that should have been impossible to say. Buckbeak, at least, craned his neck around to give her what might have been an impressed look.

“You…” Mrs. Black struggled for words. “You wouldn’t-“

“I would!” Harry cut her off, her voice painfully horse. It felt like she’d ripped something in her throat. “I’m ready to bin this entire place!”

She struggled to her feet and planted herself right up to the portrait. Buckbeak, feathery chest to her back, made a few clicking noises at the top of her head.

“And there’d be nothing to stop me. See this?” Harry summoned the Black family ring and shoved it up so close to the painting, Mrs. Black went cross-eyed looking at it. “This means everything here is mine. This house is mine. Kreacher is mine. You’re mine. And you know what? I’m this close to binning all of it!”

Harry tried to emphasize that point by having the pointer and thumb on her ring hand barely not touch, but couldn’t keep them separated with how badly her hands were shaking from her poorly reigned-in emotions.

“And you know why that is?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Because Sirius is dead! He was the one reason I wanted to be here and he’s gone! So now the only reason I haven’t decided to sell this place to muggles is because I haven’t thought one up yet!”

Harry locked eyes with Walburga, her whole body shaking. “So do it. I dare you. Open your mouth one more time. Give. Me. A. Reason.”

Without waiting for a response, Harry turned to the two house elves. “Kreacher. Help Dobby take this painting down right now.”

Kreacher’s arm raised like it was operating on its own, the rest of the house elf looking like he’d forgotten how to breath. With a double snap. The painting slipped off the wall and smacked onto the floor.

For a minute, nothing else happened. They all just existed there together in the hallway.

Then, Kreacher started to cry.

It wasn’t the angry, frustrated tears that Harry was used to. It was the complete breakdown of a being that’d fought a long and grueling battle to preserve everything he’d ever cared for, only to lose what little remained at some unexpected, last second upset.

Slowly, bit by bit, Harry’s shoulder slumped as the anger cooled. Unwanted, Hermione’s and Dumbledore’s words on how Kreacher had never know kindness came to mind. Raising her hands up, Harry rubbed her face, feeling unbelievably tired.

“Kreacher.” She said quietly to keep the pain down in her throat. He looked up to her with tear filled eyes like a man looking up at a guillotine. “You can stop. I’m not getting rid of you.”

He made a sullen, incredulous noise.

“No. I’m not firing you. I’m…” She looked around for ideas, something that would make the elf shut up and go away. But there was only Mrs. Black’s portrait. “I’m giving you this painting.”

Kreacher made a confused noise.

“Yeah. Just keep her in your,” She glanced down the hallway at the boiler room, which contained Kreacher’s ‘den.’ It would never fit in there. “New room. Yeah, that’s it. Go pick a room. That room will be yours from now on.”

The house elf was quiet for a moment before making a questioning, “regupuss” sound.

“Sure, that’s fine. Move all your stuff into it. In fact.” By now the ball was rolling. Thinking of the den and of all the items Kreacher had squirreled away in it, brought an idea to mind. Something that was sure to keep Kreacher happily busy and out of her sight for the rest of the summer. “The people who were here before got rid of a lot of stuff, right? Go get it all back.”

Kreacher choked, and stared up at her with Dobby wide eyes.

“That’s right. Bring it all back. Besides actual trash. You can keep all the paintings and pictures. All the little stuff like snuff boxes or tweezers or whatever are yours too. Everything else… I don’t know. Leave it out for me to go through, I guess. And make sure to have it all uncursed and cleaned and all that. Otherwise, just let Dobby do his thing, alright?”

Kreacher slowly got to his feet and gave her a nod, silent tears still running down his face. He snapped his fingers and the portrait disappeared. Giving her one last look, he too disappeared with a ‘Pop.’

Harry took in a deep breath, held it, and let out an exhausted sigh. “Look, Dobby. I am really sorry about that.”

“It is okay, Mister Potter.” Dobby nodded resolutely, looking unperturbed. Maybe even a little happy. “Dobby is glad to help. But Dobby must be going back to Hogwarts before Dobby is missed.”

“Sure, Dobby. Thanks for your help.”

Dobby smiled and disappeared with a ‘Pop.’ Sighing again, Harry stared at the empty wall space for a moment before turning her back to it, bringing her face to neck with Buckbeak. She ran her fingers through his feathers and debated what to do.

Above everything else, it was clear she needed to get Buckbeak out of here. The hippogriff needed regular care if he was going to stay cooped up in here, something she might not be able to do while being a spy and probably not something Dobby could do with his work at Hogwarts. But how to get him out safely? She couldn’t just let him out in the middle of the night and hope he found his way back to Hogwarts.

Getting ahold of Hagrid would be best. He’d know how official hippogriff transportation worked. Only, sending a letter to Hagrid meant, for all intents and purposes, she might as well be sending a letter to Dumbledore. And Dumbledore wouldn’t let her be a spy. He’d show up within the hour to whisk her away back to the Dursleys, to be safe while everyone else was risking **** protecting him.

She glowered and scratched one part of Buckbeak’s neck more strongly, making the hippogriff stretch his neck out further and click his beak happily.

No. She wouldn’t say a word to Dumbledore, directly or indirectly, until she got back to Hogwarts. And when she got back to school, it’d be with undeniable proof in hand that he could do his part.

But that would be then. Buckbeak was now.

Writing to Ron would be her next guess, but that basically had the same problem as Hagrid. Ron would do his level best to keep it a secret, but his parents were bound to find out. Even if it was after the fact, like with how they’d rescued him from the Dursley’s with Mr. Weasley’s flying car.

And once Mr. or Mrs. Weasley found out, they’d be right here with Dumbledore to take her away.

Then there was Hermione, who was clearly out. Mostly because she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Partially because there was the very real chance she’d willingly out Harry for her own good.

“Why is it that just about everyone I could go to on this would get Dumbledore involved somehow?” Harry pondered, now using her fingers to brush the feathers covering Buckbeak’s shoulder. “Is Luna the only one I can trust to keep this a secret? But what can she do other then ask her dad for help? How can I know he won’t go to Dumbledore?”

“Ah, Seirios dear?”

Harry blinked and looked round. Narcissa Malfoy stood very still in the open door, the handle of a leather case in one hand and wand in the other, a wooden crate floating behind her.

“Why is there a hippogriff in the house?” She asked in a breathless, **** calm sort of way.

“Uh.” She looked to Buckbeak, who was staring at Narcissa. “I… found him upstairs. We just finished having breakfast.”

“Oh.” Narcissa said faintly, looking quite dismayed at the implication she’d left her niece, alone and out cold, in a house with unknown hippogriff for an entire night. “I see.”

Harry felt Buckbeak’s feathers begin to bristle. “Oh, ah, yeah. You should bow."

---

“Now really, you have no idea as to why it’s here?”

Harry closed the door to Mrs. Blacks – or what was more or less now Buckbeak’s – room before turning to the woman.

Narcissa had blanched at the state of the room, it showing all the signs of a hippogriff’s nesting instincts. But she hadn’t said anything, apparently willing to accept the rooms demise in exchange for keeping the large, very dangerous animal content.

“No idea.” Harry remarked casually. Narcissa thankfully hadn’t recognized Buckbeak, a mistake Harry wasn’t going to correct. “You wanted to talk about something?”

“In a moment.” Narcissa halted Harry’s attempt to change the subject with a severe expression. “First, what happened with your hand? Did that creature hurt you?"

The piebald woman took hold of Harry's hand examined it. Harry didn't know what Narcissa was talking about until she noticed the drying blood covering her knuckles.

"Oh! Yeah. I, uh, wacked my hand when I was trying to get that portrait by the front door down."

Mrs. Malfoy opened her mouth to respond, blinked her eyes twice before closing her mouth again. Harry got the distinct feeling that Narcissa had completely forgotten about the painting of Walburga Black and was now mentally backtracking.

"How did you get her down?" Narcissa asked in a faint, curious tone as she took out her wand and waved it over Harry's knuckles. The blood smoothed out and slowly transformed in fresh, undamaged skin.

Taking back her hand and thinking quickly, Harry gave a brief, Dobby-less explanation of what had happened.

“Really? Kreacher was able to take it down?” Narcissa asked in incredulous surprise. “I had no idea he had that much strength left in him. But no matter. While I can’t say I’d have given him the portrait, I also can’t blame you for doing so. Your grandmother had that portrait made in her later years, a period of time when she was becoming increasingly… difficult to interact with.”

Harry let out a sarcastic huff.

“As you’ve noticed. I suppose what you did is for the best. It will keep both of them content." Narcissa started for the stairs. "Now, what happened to your voice? Was it like that when you woke up?”

"No. This was from chatting with Mrs. Black." Harry said sarcastically.

Narcissa sighed. "I suppose I should be happy you attempted talking to her at all."

"I woke up really sore all over though." Harry remarked pointedly.

"Did you now?" Narcissa hummed, not looking back at Harry. "Thank you for telling me, but I wouldn't worry about it. That's an occasional side effect of that ritual."

Getting the feeling she was purposefully being left in the dark, Harry's lips thinned as she tried to think up a way to **** out the truth without upsetting Mrs. Malfoy. But after reaching the next floor without any way coming to mind, reluctantly let the subject lie.

"So what about B- I mean, the hippogriff then?"

"Yes, the hippogriff. A decision needs to be made at once on what to do with it. I refuse to allow it to remain here for another night.”

Harry mentally cursed, mind coming up with all the possible places Buckbeak could end up. Most of them weren’t good. Did people eat hippogriff? They ate horse.

“Actually,” Harry started, hoping Narcissa’s care for family - and presumably that family’s opinion - would be enough to save Buckbeak. “I was thinking about getting him sent to Hogwarts.”

“Oh?” Narcissa remarked, sounding genuinely curious. “What gave you that idea?”

“Luna mentioned how they have a care of magical creatures’ class there and that they’ve gone over hippogriffs. It seemed like it a good idea to give him to the school. You know, so he’d have plenty of space and all that.”

“No, you won’t be giving it to the school.” Narcissa rejected.

Harry stared at the back of Narcissa’s head. What? Just like that, it was over? Buckbeak was doomed, all because Narcissa disliked Hogwarts, or presumably Dumbledore, more then she cared about her niece?

“You’d be donating it.”

“Huh?” Harry blurted, caught flat footed.

“Yes, yes. I know it sounds the same and it essentially is. But it’s an important distinction with the Ministry to make it tax deductible.” Narcissa waved her hand in a dismissive way as they reached the fourth floor and made for the bedroom Harry had awoken in. “It’s a good idea, especially since this would qualify as a ‘donation for educational purposes.’ Perhaps you didn’t reach it for the same reason I would have, but good instinct either way. I’ll look into getting it setup. Which reminds me. We do need to sit down with Gringotts and go over Black estate. It likely hasn’t been managed for years and it’s as good a place as any to start getting you familiar with the finances.”

“Oh. Okay.” That… sounded like it would include a painful amount of maths. But hey, at least Buckbeak would be okay. Yay.

They entered the bedroom, Narcissa strolling to a door Harry hadn’t gotten around to checking yet. Which might have been for the best, as when Narcissa opened it, just the breeze of the door swinging open was enough to kick of a cloud of dust.

Narcissa made a disgusted sound as she stepped back, trying to fan the dust away before it covered her. “Mimbsy!”

With a ‘Pop!’, a house elf Harry didn’t recognize appeared.

“Mistress Malfoy be calling Mimbsy?” The house elf, too small for her pillow case clothes, bowed low.

“Clean this bathroom. You may return home once you’re done.”

The house elf bowed again before hurrying into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Harry watched her go with thin lips. While Narcissa hadn’t been cruel to the elf, she hadn’t been kind either.

“Well, while that’s getting done, let me show you your potions.” Narcissa said. Directing with her wand, the crate that had been following them set itself down on top of a short dresser by the mirror.

“My potions?” Harry asked, eyeing the crate and trying to guess how many potions it could hold. It looked like it would fit snuggly into a trunk length and width wise, but only take up half the height. So, doubtfully not just a few.

“Yes. They were prescribed to you by Healer Murphey. That’s why we stopped by the apothecary yesterday.” Narcissa stated, flipping open the lid, revealing a heavily inked parchment attached to the underside.

“Oh. I thought you were getting something for you.” Harry said, looking in the box. Yep. Not just a few.

“I know it looks like a lot, but you don’t need to take them all at once. Just put your hand over it like this,” Narcissa held her hand over the open crate like she was going to have one of them jump up into her hand like a broom. When Harry copied her, several of the bottles rose halfway out of their slots. “And it’ll let you know which ones you need to take for that time. Check at least three times a day. If you get confused for whatever reason, those are the instructions.”

Harry looked up from the bottles to the paper, about to lean in to get a better look before realizing she could read it perfectly clearly from where she was.

What presented itself was a mix of old timey **** labels, monthly calendar, and star chart. The best she could make out after a few moments of struggle was that if she wanted to learn when to take the potions on her own, she’d not only need to know which to take at what time during the day, but do the same on the date of the week, month, and what planets were where.

“This is… A lot.” Harry said, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Why do I need to take these? What are they for?”

Narcissa started to respond, stopped, and looked conflicted for a moment before settling on the air of someone who had a rant ready to go but didn’t want to get into it right now. “Healer Murphey and I had a talk after you were done interviewing with her and we decided this potion regimen would be best for your health.”

Harry made a noncommittal noise and looked back to the bottles. The three that had risen were still there, waiting for her to drink them. On one hand, Moody’s words came to mind about food and drink, which would have saved him with Umbridge. On the other hand, Mrs. Malfoy honestly did seem to want to help her ‘niece,’ as proven with her immensely improved eyesight. It didn’t make sense for this to be anything other than a smorgasbord of good intentions.

Reluctantly, she lifted the smallest bottle out first. It was about the size of a snitch and full of a candy red liquid.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Taking out the cork, she emptied it in one go, holding it in her mouth for a moment, ready to spit it out. But it just sat there on her tongue with all the taste and consistency of cherry flavored cough syrup. Not great, but far from bad.

“Cork the bottle and put it back where it was. It’ll refill for your next dosage.” Narcissa chimed in.

Doing so, Harry swallowed and took out the next prescription, which looked like the potion bottle equivalent of one of those wine glasses called a flute. Its stormy blue liquid was indistinguishable to her tastebuds from blue gatorade, and even left her feeling a bit more awake. The third potion, which sat in a bottle she thought looked vaguely like a crown, tasted like an apple jolly rancher had been mixed into the fire whisky Fred and George had dared Ron and him to drink last Christmas.

“For medicine, that was actually pretty good.” Harry coughed with renewed hoarseness, red in the face and throat burning.

“Good. I paid extra for that.” Narcissa said with a satisfied smile.

The door to the bathroom opened and out walked Mimbsy, looking a good bit dirtier then when she’d entered. But she didn’t say anything, only bowing once more before disappearing with a ‘Pop.’ Narcissa strolled into the room without a word, Harry following behind.

Cream walls, white ceiling, and a chipped, checkered tile floor. A marble bathtub that was built into the room took up nearly a quarter of the space, its fixtures gleaming. A mammoth, dark wood vanity with a white stone countertop took up one entire wall, innumerable shelves, drawers, and little doors all centered around a mirror too large to be practical.

She almost missed the toilet with how normal it was, set as it was in its own little alcove that was surrounded by even more shelving and cabinets.

“It’s… big.” Harry said while looking around, taking in the amount of space that could only be possible with magic.

“There are many things that can be said about our family. Willingly doing anything by half is not one of them.” Narcissa remarked, setting down and opening the leather case. With a wave of her wand, numerous candles floated out and found places to sit all around the room. With a flick, they lit, filling the space with a warm light.

“Start the bath, dear?”

“Oh, sure.” Harry approached the tub and took hold of one of the golden nobs. Two fat silver faucets, each on opposite ends of the tub, started pumping out steaming hot water at once.

Job done, the ravenette turned about and took in the sight of the once empty counter littered with bottles, packages, and all other manner of bathroom… things.

“That isn’t all for me, right?” She hesitantly asked, stepping over to the counter and staring at the mass assortment of girl stuff.

“Of course it is.” Narcissa casually stated. She was still waving her wand, having a steady stream of items floating out of her bag and settling themselves on the counter. “Though it’s not everything I ordered for you. Some things just can’t be acquired on such short notice.”

Harry nodded, not really sure what to say about that. And he’d thought Petunia had a lot of stuff.

She stood there for a moment, watching the casual magic on display. It was when the dress robes she’d worn yesterday came floating out - perfectly ironed - that Luna’s words about it came to mind.

“Are we doing something important today?” Harry asked, eagerly wondering if she was already being given a chance to get information.

“Indeed, we are.” Narcissa remarked, looking happy her niece had picked up on that. “You’ll be joining me for a meeting.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

The excitement that had taken off in her about already having a chance to get good intel crashing.

“None of that now. You are important.” Narcissa said, seeing Harry’s expression and mistaking it for something else. “This will be the first step in getting you ready for your official announcement.”

“Announcement for what?”

“Of you being the new head of House Black.” The piebald woman gave a flick of her wand, sending a chalky looking ball whizzing out of her bag to land in the bathtub with a ‘Plop.’ Bubbles formed quickly, sprouting out of the water like a child’s science fair project. “Go ahead and get in. I’ll explain as you wash.”

Harry hesitated briefly before pulling off her nightgown. Narcissa had, after all, seen her naked just last night. For some reason, she wasn’t as bothered by that as she was the thought of him being seen naked. Though, not so unbothered that she was anything less then quick getting in.

The water proved a perfect, borderline too hot that made her gasp as she sunk in, but was absolutely wonderful on her sore muscles.

“So,” Narcissa sat on the tubs wide side, a number of items floating over to do the same. “Why don’t you tell me what you know about being the head of the family and I’ll go from there.”

“Well,” Harry err’ed, trying to figure out which bottle was the shampoo. “Since I’m the only one who still, uh, has the name, it means everything belongs to me, right? Which includes spells and potions too? Luna mentioned that there could be stuff like that, but said I should ask you about it.”

“I must remember to thank your friend for that.” Narcissa took hold of a bath sponge, dunked it in the water, and dumped a hefty amount of one bottle’s thick liquid on it before handing it to Harry. “There are many duties, privileges, and social expectations that go along with being the head of a family. Such, as I mentioned before, handling the families’ finances.”

“Is there really much more than that?” Harry asked, idly working the luffa between her fingers. It felt strange to take a bath. As far as she could remember, he’d never taken one at the Dursley’s. With limited allowed time in the bathroom, showers had always been his go to. A habit that’d continued at Hogwarts and the Burrow.

Now that she thought about it, had that time in the prefect’s bath been his first ever bath? Surely, he’d been washed in a bathtub as a baby… Or did baby’s get washed in the sink?

She considered for a moment before mentally shrugging and aimlessly rubbing the sponge over her skin. Seemed kinda pointless to try and lather up while in a bath, but her aunt made no comment on it.

“Much, much more.” Narcissa said, looking into the distance. Maybe to give her some form of privacy. Maybe just to think. “There will be your responsibilities to the Wizard Council and the duties that stem from it. There are those that limit their involvement to the barest required levels, but even moderate engagement can and will leave you wondering where the years went.”

“Just by sitting in on trials? I mean, I’ve heard they - uh, we - do that. So how can that take up so much time?” Harry asked, quickly washing her bits while Narcissa wasn’t looking despite everything being hidden by bubbles.

Narcissa smiled in an amused way. “Of all the things you could hear about in America, it’s us being judges. I suppose that’s to be expected. All I ever hear about the American muggle government is whatever scandal their ‘President’ is involved in or whatever decision their ‘Supremely Court’ has made that’s upset them all. It’s a wonder they get anything done.”

“But anyway, yes.” Narcissa continued. “You’ll have a number of trials you’ll be required to sit in every year, though you can volunteer for more. Then there’s your Wizards’ Council duties. You’ll find it to be called the wizengamot or parliament these days, though its name never was officially changed. Don’t put that soap on your neck and face. Rub this one in by hand instead.”

Harry stopped and took the bottle. It was all skin, so she wasn’t sure why she needed to use different soaps for different spots. But, if this was all she needed to do to keep Narcissa happy, who was she to complain.

Dropping the luffa, she poured some of the bottle’s contents onto her hand and started rubbing away.

It felt strange, more like a moisturizing lotion then a soap. It made the skin it touched tingle in a sort of pins and needs kind of way, but on the outside.

“To get back to your question, yes.” Narcissa gooped up a brush with very short bristles before dropping it into the tub. Harry felt it swish by her leg like a fish before it vigorously started scrubbing, of all things, the bottom of her feet. “While managing the House’s affairs would normally take a majority of your time, with only the finances to concern you for now, that will only require the occasional input once it’s been returned to good form. The Council however.”

Narcissa let out an overworked sigh. “It’s all politics. You’ll find it to be feast or famine. Long periods of little to no progress made by anyone, only for some element to change, upend the entire board, and leave everyone scrabbling to adjust and take advantage.”

The piebald woman shook her head, her black and blond hair rippling in the candlelight. “It’ll feel at times like you’re pouring all your effort into a bottomless pit. Close your eyes.”

Harry did and was rewarded with a buckets worth of hot water being poured over her head, along with the sensation of the soap covering her skin being tugged at by the water but refusing to go with it.

“Just deciding what to vote on is that bad?” Harry asked distractedly, feeling the soap on her face with her fingers. It covered every square centimeter of her face - including spots she was sure she hadn’t put it on, like her eyelids – without even the hint of it getting in her eyes or up her nose.

Narcissa chuckled in a perfectly poshly way before tipping a bottle of some creamy liquid onto the top of Harrys head. She felt it slide down every individual strand of hair until it looked like she’d been given a badly done white dye job “For ourselves? There can be some tricky questions from time to time, but not for the most part. The real problem is convincing other people to vote the way you want them to. But that’s a conversation for another time. Let that all sit. It’ll let you know when it’s ready to come off.”

Narcissa stood and walked over to the counter. Harry watched her go, trying to think of some creative, spy-ish way ask what all the **** Eaters were doing in this wizard’s parliament. But after a few minutes of drawing a blank, she reluctantly conceded the conversation was over and tried to relax in the water instead.

Only to be awakened by the feeling of being covered by an innumerable number of tiny slugs. Blinking, she turned her head to watch as every single bubble and sud, moving under their own power, made a slow pilgrimage to wash themselves off into the bath water.

Mentally shrugging, Harry dunked herself and came up feeling the cleanest she could ever remember being.

“The soap’s all off. Is there anything else I need to do?” Harry asked, running fingers across her skin and enjoying how soft and smooth it now felt.

“You can go ahead and get out. We’re done with the bath.” Narcissa said with her back to the bath, busy with the many items on the counter. Catching sight of her niece in the mirror a few moments later, she turned around, a disconcerted tightening to her lips. “Seirios, dear. What are you doing?”

“Getting out of the bath?”

“I was asking about your towel.” Narcissa strode over and removed the fluffy white towel from around her niece’s waist and rewrapped it under her arms, all the while thinking darkly of the words she’d be having with that foster family if she ever found them.

Guiding the younger woman over to the counter, hair still dripping wet, she had her sit on a stool and went to work.

---

Harry stared into the bedroom mirror.

A princess stared back.

Ruby red lips, once kissable, now so inviting. Immaculate skin with the barest blush. Tamed, wavy black hair that shimmered.

But the eyes.

A perfect brow above lashes full and dark somehow made her green just… just so captivating! They were her own eyes, as enhanced as they’d become. Yet now she could no more break away from their sheer presence then she could stop the fluttering’s within her.

How could such little changes make such a difference?

“I’m glad you approve.” A pair of hands wrapped around her middle in a hug, tickling her stomach muscles into twitching under the fabric of her dress.

Harry opened her mouth to say something, but between the feast before her and feeling every bit of the mature, womanly body against her back, the words fizzled out.

But this only made Narcissa’s reflection smile even more, visibly proud of her work and happy at her niece’s reaction to it. “You remind me so much of my sisters and I when we were your age. I can already see the beautiful woman you’re becoming.”

Harry’s mind struggled to wrap itself around this remark, let alone construct a reply. After a moment, all she could come up with was what she hoped was a thankful nod.

Narcissa drew away, leaving her back feeling cold and oddly ****. “Come. We do not want to be late.”

---

The world hard shifted back into gear, but this time she was ready for it. With only a little help from Narcissa in keeping her footing, Harry stood straight and **** out steady breaths, waiting for her roiling stomach to calm down.

“Where are we?” She asked after a moment of looking around.

To their right was what at first seemed like an endless expanse of grain fields, swaying in the breeze as if waves of gold were passing them by, sectioned off by lines of bushes and trees. But there, far in the distance, was the glittering of the sea.

Their left held the beginning of an immense orchard set on gently rolling hills, covered with neat lines of trees that were divided, perhaps by type, by fences of stacked stones with wood gates. One of the fields had sheep, slowing working their way around the tree trunks as they made the tall grass short.

Before them, however.

“Greengrass Manor.”

It was a house – and what a lackluster word that was to describe it - that looked like it’d had its start as a moderately sized castle. A blunt, square structure took up the center, standing tall over the rest with thick walls and even taller still towers making up each corner. The actual manor seemed to have been added later – made up in a more elaborate, civilian style - and had expanded out in every direction. A wall covered in vines with fat green leaves looked to wrap around the entire manor grounds.

Narcissa, arm still around Harry’s, started them up the short distance to the manors gate, the older woman’s heels clicking against the brick path.

“Greengrass?” Harry questioned as her mind raced. There was a student in the same year as him by the name of Daphne Greengrass. He’d never really interacted with her though, the girls cold demeaner almost as off-putting as her being in Slytherin. And while he could remember seeing the girl hanging around Draco Malfoy from time to time, he’d never got the feeling she was part of his group like Pansy was. “Why are we having the meeting here? I thought we’d be going to your house – err - manor?”

“Malfoy Manor, yes.” Narcissa nodded. “But there are… guests staying at my home that I’m not comfortable with you being introduced to yet. Now, do you know how to ‘knock,’ as it were? No? That’s alright. Watch how I do it.”

The piebald woman withdrew her wand and jabbed it forward like she was going to poke the wrought iron gate. It didn’t reach the metal, bouncing silently off an invisible wall that Harry realized must be a ward, just like what Grimmauld place had.

How Narcissa knew there was a ward, let alone where it was, Harry had no idea. But before she could ask, Narcissa spoke again.

“Ah, a word of warning. The Greengrass family has always held a strange view of their servants. It’s best not to comment on it.”

Harry glanced at Narcissa, thinking of Dobby and how he’d been treated by the Malfoy’s. Could she mean they treated their house elf well? Or even more poorly?

Hearing the manors front door open, Harry turned back to see not a house elf, but a human walking out towards them. Blinking a few times to try and take advantage of her new eyesight, Harry could make out the black clothing of a butler being worn by a man with blonde hair.

Was that it? The Greengrass’s were considered strange for having actual people as staff instead of house elves?

Harry felt relief spread through her. She’d been worried if she would have been able to keep her cool if there’d been any ‘punishments’ happening.

A few moments passed as the figure drew nearer. It was as he passed around a water fountain and came in to full view that Harry did a double take.

The butler was a woman.

“Good morning,” The butler gave a bow after reaching them, which must have been some sort of signal, as the gate slid silently open. “And welcome, Mrs. Malfoy, Miss Black, to The Grange.”

Harry swallowed, something about the fact that she was already known to unknown people not sitting entirely well.

“Thank you, Duke. I hope we have not kept everyone waiting.” Narcissa said pleasantly.

“You’re right on time, Mrs. Malfoy. They’ve just sat down for tea. If you would be so kind to follow me, I’ll bring you to them.” Duke turned and started back to the manor, Narcissa stepping forward to follow and pulled Harry along with her.

As they walked along, Harry tried to take in the manors… front yard? Whatever the fancy term was, it had all the things one could imagine a manor having. Perfectly cut grass, perfectly shaped bushes, perfectly placed trees, ect ect.

But for all ravenettes effort, her eyes refused to stay away from the butler.

Could a woman be a butler? Out of everything he’d ever seen, from books, movies, and tv shows, the butlers had always been men and the maids’ women. It had just been what he’d assumed to be a rule.

This Duke person – which had to be a surname – was a walking contradiction.

Tall, even for a man, at what had to be well past six feet. But not rail thin like so many people of that height tended to be. Neither though was she large, the butler’s uniform being without a doubt tailored for her, and showed her figure clearly. It was womanly, but not overly so. There was an aura of physical power there, but not masculinity. She walked purposefully like a man, but with just enough sway to her firm rear to catch the eye.

A sword came to Harry’s mind. One made to be as beautiful as possible, but not to the point of reducing its functionality.

Harry felt Narcissa gently squeeze her hand, making her blink and realize they’d reached the front door.

Duke waved one of her white gloved hands and the large, iron reinforced oak doors smoothly opened, allowing the three of them into the house before closing behind them.

The entryway was wonderfully cool in a way that made Harry belatedly realize how hot of a day it was becoming. To add to the welcoming impression, the room had rich wood floors and sported a lavish green rug that gave them a stylized bird’s eye view of a bountiful grassy field, including little sheep and cows that trotted out of the way of their feet as they walked on it.

A number of large paintings lined the walls, each displaying colorful renditions of crop fields, pastures of farm animals, or forests that showed the occasional glimpse of wild game. The only painting that contained a person hung high at the end of the room, between a split set of curved stairs.

It was of a man who seemed at odds with his finely made, aristocratic clothing. He instead looked like the kind of grizzled blue collar worker Harry would have seen in one of his muggle school textbooks in a chapter about factory workers or miners at the turn of the century.

The man gave silent judgment of Harry, not taking his eyes off her as they passed under to come before a smaller, elegantly simple set of double doors.

When Duke took hold of the doorknob, the set morphed into elaborately French style doors that showed some sort of outdoor space.

Opening it for them, Duke stepping back and bowing shortly to allow them through first. Narcissa directed her on and they passed through to what Harry realized wasn’t some sort of interior courtyard, but was undeniably a large covered patio on the other side of the manor, grain fields and orchards on their right and left.

Before them, sitting at a small round table far enough out to catch the days breeze while still being in the shade of the patio cover, were three women.

“Ah, Narcissa. Right on time as always.” The woman who spoke stood and walked over to meet them.

If there was a scale of Narcissa Malfoy to Molly Weasley, this woman would be as close to Molly as possible while still having enough Narcissa in her to clearly register as someone of high class and wealth.

Soft but not plump, she had a noticeably motherly figure despite the conservative blue summer robes she wore. Blonde hair free of grey framed a welcomingly attractive face that was only enhanced by the few age lines it held. Her sharp blue eyes, however, made it at once clear she was not some airheaded house wife.

Narcissa undid her arm from Harry’s so the two women could share a quick hug. “So good to see you again, Diana. How has Arnold and the girls been?”

“Arnold’s same as ever. Doesn’t know what it means to take a break. And the girls, Merlin help me. They get back for summer break and all they talk about is school.” Diana looked Harry, who immediately felt like she was being dissected by the woman even as she smiled. “But where are my manners. Let me welcome you personally to my home.”

And before she knew it, Diana got her with the same hug she’d shared with Narcissa. Not having expected to be embraced by the stranger, Harry’s brain froze up, leaving her not knowing what to do with her hands until it was too late and Mrs. Greengrass pulled back, some sort of confirmation in her eyes.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” Harry tried to recover, mind struggling to think of something fancy-ish to do and settled for a poor imitation of one of Luna’s curtseys.

“You’re very welcome.” Diana said, still smiling pleasantly. It was much to Harry’s relief, whom now felt painfully aware of how she had exactly zero idea what to do in a situation like this. How had she not realized till now that if she was going to infiltrate a group of uppity blue bloods, she’d need to know how to act like one herself?

“Please, join us for tea.” Diana led them over to the table with the other two women.

One was quite petite, to the point that she couldn’t have been that much more developed than Luna. Her face, which would have been charmingly cute in a mature sort of way, was marred by a severe expression and her cold, black eyes.

Perhaps the woman was unhappily aware of how she compared to her companions. If so, it explained the elaborate robes that seemed specifically made to try and hide her body. That, as well as the highly styled and decorated bun her brown hair was done up in, as if to catch the eye and keep it away from everything else.

The other, however…

If Harry was coming to see Narcissa as a sort of posh Mrs. Weasley - being an even mix of high society and caring motherliness - then this woman was one who had traded all of her posh and mother for one thing and one thing only.

She was the most beautiful woman Harry had ever witnessed. It was actually a shock to realize how there was no doubt in her mind that this woman outclassed even Fleur.

Intense hazel-green eyes, a defined nose between high cheekbones, rosy pink lips and flawless olive skin. As the woman turned her head to look at Harry fully, her back length, gently spiraling hair shinning blue-black as it caught the light.

Long, slender legs the turned into tantalizingly unslender thighs, disappearing under the hem of a sleeveless white robe – what for muggles would be a summer dress - but could still be made out in leading to a body of balance perfected.

Harry didn’t realize she’d tripped till she hit the floor.

“Seirios! Are you alright?” Narcissa gasped, rushing to help her niece back to her feet.

“Fine! I’m fine!” Harry said quickly, face so hot, it felt like it was melting.

It took every ounce of her being not to look at the goddess she’d just humiliated herself in front of.

Unfortunately, that meant she didn’t have any brainpower left to spare to realize what seat at the table Narcissa was guiding her to until she’d already been planted right next to the gorgeous woman.

“Seirios is still getting used to appirating, I’m afraid.” Narcissa said, still looking concerned as she took her own seat on Harry’s other side. “Coming here was only her second time.”

“You poor thing.” Diana said. “Not only having to grow up separated from your own world, but doing so under the watch of muggles who cared so little for you. Truly dreadful.”

Harry nodded and cleared her throat, wondering how much Narcissa had told these people.

Or tried to, at least.

The beautiful woman was still looking at her. Harry could see her doing so out of the corner of her eye, and that was causing an unwelcome mix of several emotions.

The first was desire.

Surprising or unexpected, it was not. A guy would have to dead from the neck down not to react at the sight of such a woman. Harry’s mouth felt very dry as a bead of sweat slowly rolled down the woman’s neck and into the valley of her cleavage.

Forget men, anyone who’d hit puberty would want this woman. Harry had never seriously considered being with a girl not at least close to his own age. But in that moment, she could actually feel her horizons expanding.

The second was intimidation.

This one was unexpected, but not so surprising. How could anyone look at this woman and not freeze up or panic? She was on such a different level it was stupid. Something that tied in with the last emotion.

Depression.

Harry had recognized that people like Cedric Diggory, Bill Weasley, or Blaise Zabini were more attractive than him. Higher on the ‘scale,’ so to say. He hadn’t cared. He’d had his fill with being the center of attention a long time ago, along with anything that put him there.

But now? Thoughts he’d never had came flooding in.

“What were thinking? A princess? As if!” Said a snide voice in the back of Harry’s mind. “With all her Malfoy money, with all Narcissa’s womanly experience, and even with the help of literal magic, and you’re not even comparable to this woman! As if the girl version of you would be any better then the boy!”

All these emotions and thoughts mixed together into a toxic sludge in her gut, leaving her with a vague sensation that she’d soon need to vomit. Which, of course, led to the thought of throwing up in front of these people that she needed to impress, which fed anxiety right back into the mix.

Duke appeared, pouring her a cup of tea. Harry took the cup the moment the butler was done and took a drink, glad for its scalding temperature to give her something else to feel.

“Is that right, dear?”

“Sorry, what?” Harry coughed and looked up from the small bowl of strawberries she hadn’t realized she’d been starring at.

Narcissa smiled patiently, perhaps thinking her niece’s discomfort was merely with being in an unfamiliar situation, and not because the self-esteem for a body she’d had for all of two days was disintegrating.

“You must have only recently been notified of inheriting the Black estate, correct? Who informed you? Gringotts?”

“Oh, yeah. I got a letter from them.” Harry said, thinking of his first Hogwarts letter. “My, err, foster father didn’t let me read it. So they kept sending me more and more until they finally sent a representative to make sure I actually read one.”

“This family that was raising you didn’t allow you to read your own mail?” The petite woman asked dubiously, making Harry realize that she’d been so zoned out that she’d missed getting the other two women’s names.

“No. Or, well, I don’t know. I’d never gotten mail before, muggle or wizard. So, when I got this letter, they wanted to know what it was about. My foster parents read it, saw it was wizard mail, and burned it without letting me see it.”

“Burned it?” Diana asked, taken aback. “Why in the world would they do that?”

“Well, they knew magic and wizards were real but didn’t like it. So, they kept me in the dark about me being a witch to keep me normal. Err, like a muggle, I mean.” Harry shrugged.

“What?” The beautiful woman said, short and sharp. Even so, her accented voice slid smooth as silk into Harry’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine at the same time as the knowledge that the surprised anger in those hazel-green eyes was on Harry’s behalf made her insides squirm.

Harry tripped over her own tongue confirming before shutting herself up with another drink of tea.

“Outrageous.” The Greengrass woman scoffed. The other two had similar sentiments.

“Truly, it is.” Narcissa said with a nod. She turned to Harry and laid a comforting hand on hers. “Fortunately, fate did not entirely abandon Seirios. Tell us, dear. Who was the wizard who found you? Who helped you?”

Harry swallowed, trying hard not to let her astonishment show.

Luna had been right.

“Harry. How does Seirios know about magic?” Luna asked, not stopping her doodling.

Harry paused her own doodling in A History of Magic to look at Luna. “What do you mean?”

Now Luna did stop. “Well, you’re keeping these books because Mrs. Malfoy saw you have books.”

“Yeah.”

“And we’re making these books look like they’re mine because we don’t know what books they have in America?”

“Right.”

“What books are you trading me?”

“Uh. American books?”

“American muggle books?”

“Hmm. No? While I’m pretty sure Narcissa didn’t see exactly what books I have, she must have at least noticed they were wizard books. The only muggle books that look like wizard books these days are ones in museums. I bet even she’d know that.”

“So what American magic books did you trade me for my British magic books?”

“I guess I’d be trading you American school books.”

“What books from what school?”

“… Oh.” Harry laid down her quill and leaned back in her chair. “I get what you mean. ‘Seirios’ can’t have learned magic at school in America because we don’t even know what school is there.”

Luna nodded, leaning back in her own chair to stare at the ceiling.

“And even if we did,” Harry continued, mind now on a roll. “Seirios can’t have gone there because they wouldn’t have any records of her. Like her grades or detentions or whatever. There’s nothing we can do to stop Narcissa from sending a letter off to this American Hogwarts for Seirios’s records and nothing we can do to stop them from telling her they have no idea who she’s talking about.”

The blonde nodded again.

“Which means,” Harry rubbed her hands over her face, digging the palms into her eyes until she saw spots. “I’m already done for. Narcissa knows I have wizard books of some kind, but they’re books I shouldn’t have. If I had never gotten my Hogwarts letter, I never would have found out I’m a wizard. So that means Seirios never found out she’s a witch.”

“Not necessarily.” Luna said faintly, brows furrowed in concentration and her eyes moving like she was reading something on the ceiling. “Even if she never went to school, she’d still be doing accidental magic. That probably would have caught the attention of the American Ministry eventually.”

“That wouldn’t work.” Harry frowned after a moment’s thought. “Even if they missed her up till then, wouldn’t they just treat her like any other muggleborn and send her off to school anyways?”

Luna hummed noncommittally but nodded.

Harry slumped in her chair. “So I really am screwed. This whole story I’ve been feeding everyone is just my story with the Harry bits cut out. But some bloody how, I completely missed how I’ve cut what’s pretty much the entire story. Hogwarts!”

Luna blinked and looked to Harry, realization dawning in her eyes. “That’s it. Seirios didn’t go to Hogwarts. She didn’t go to any school.”

Harry looked to Luna. “Didn’t we just establish that? And how it’s the giant hole in my story?”

“No, Harry. That’s our solution. Seirios didn’t go to school. She was home schooled.”

“By who? These ‘Worsley’ people?’ Aren’t they supposed to be muggles?”

“Not them.” Luna shook her head. “A wizard found Seirios and taught her magic. That’s how she knows magic and that’s why she has the books.”

“How would this have happened without these American Dursley’s finding out? I didn’t exactly get a lot of privacy from them growing up.”

Luna shrugged in way of waving away the problem. “Any half decent wizard can keep muggles from noticing a lot of things.”

“But who would this person be? I didn’t know any magical people growing up.” Harry paused. “Well, I mean, there was Mrs. Figg, but she’s a squib.”

“They don’t know that. All they’ll know is that Mr. Figg, or Mr. Wig, found you and helped you.”

“I suppose that would work.” Harry said slowly as she thought it out. “Why ‘Mr’ though?”

“Because Seirios acts like a wizard.”

And so it went, Harry telling them of Mr. Wig – a kind but lackluster wizard with a preference for half-kneazles and cabbages – who’d realized she was a witch after he’d seen her shaved nearly bald one day only to have full head of hair the next.

Of life at the Worsley’s, spending most of her time outside of muggle schooling and magical home-schooling taking care of the yardwork or cleaning the house.

Of her ‘step-brother’ Budley, his gang of friends, and all the things they liked to do to her.

The rundown of her life wasn’t nearly as heavy on details as it could have been. Not anything like what she told Healer Murphey, as she came to realize in an odd way.

It was as if the entire conversation with the doctor had been lost in a haze, like an early childhood memory nearly forgotten, but only so long as she didn’t actively try to remember it. Once she did, it all came back, crystal clear.

“He taught you himself?”

But that was a question for Luna later.

“This Wig person sacrifices years of his time teaching you instead of just sending a letter to the American ministry and being done with it?” The petite woman asked with eyes narrowed in scornful skepticism.

“Come now, Violet.” Diana said with a wink to her companion, though Harry thought there might be something uncomfortable in the way she crossed her arms. “Have some faith in your fellow wizard.”

Violet, as Harry now knew her, sent the blonde a flat look.

“Actually, I wouldn’t have been able to afford going any school.” Harry stepped in, seeing an opportunity to lay down more of her foundation of ‘rearranged truths,’ as Luna had described their work. “I barely had any muggle money and my foster parents weren’t going to help.”

“There wasn’t any kind of financial assistance program for children?” Violet persisted.

When Harry shook her head, that brought out a disgusted, “Ugh, Americans.” from the only woman who’s name she didn’t yet know. Said woman leaned over to take Harry’s hand in her own.

“It’s good that you’re here now with Narcissa. She’ll show you what family should be like.” The woman said. “And if there’s ever a time you need help, feel free to reach out to any of us.”

Harry tried to say something polite like, ‘Oh, thank you. That’s very kind and I appreciate it,’ but wasn’t sure the words that came out were anything other then a tumbled mess. Which was understandable, given how hard she was trying not to be lost in those concerned, hazel-green eyes.

Though that was probably for the best, as Harry wasn’t confident she would have been able to keep her eyes from being caught looking somewhere else with the beauty leaning over the way she was.

It must have been acceptable enough of a thanks, though, as the woman smiled kindly and let go of Harry’s hand.

“Yes, we’re all so wonderfully generous.” Violet said brusquely. “But now that we’ve had the sob story, why don’t we get to the point. Let’s see the ring.”

Harry glanced at Narcissa, who gave a little nod. Not seeing what the harm could be, Harry summoned the Black family ring.

“There it is, as I told you.” Narcissa said with a smile as the three women looked the ring over.

“We never doubted you.” Diana said soothing. “But you know how it is with such things. Trust but verify. Duke?”

Quiet as a ghost, the butleress appeared with a tiny silver bottle in hand.

“May I?” She asked, holding the bottle so Harry could take in the highly detailed engravings covering every centimeter of it while gesturing politely with her other hand to the Black family ring.

“Oh, sure. Go ahead.” Harry said, figuring this to be some test like what Gringotts did.

The butler unscrewed the bottles top with great care. When she removed the cap, it revealed itself to be like an eye dropper. But instead of holding any liquid inside a small tube, a single, clear green drop was held magically in air just beyond the tip of metal needle, also covered in tiny engravings.

With a perfectly steady hand, the woman lowered the wizard eye dropper to where Harry’s left hand rested atop the table until the mystery liquid came into contact with the face of the Black family ring.

It sizzled angrily at once and was gone, the smoke taken by the breeze and the Black family ring looking just as shiny as ever.

Harry flexed her hand and looked the ring over, wondering what that had been. The smoke had smelled vaguely familiar. Duke carefully screwed the cap back onto the bottle before stepping back to disappear again.

“There you have it.” Narcissa declared, unfazed by whatever it was that’d just happened as she enjoyed a satisfied sip of tea.

“And we have no reason to believe everything else isn’t true as well.” Diana said somewhat somberly before giving a small nod. “All the better you’re here now. Was that everything we were going to go over with her, Narcissa?”

“It was.” Narcissa nodded and looked to Harry. “There’s some business I still need to discuss here that I’m afraid is rather private. Would you be a dear and go join the girls out in the garden?”

It took a great deal of control on Harry’s part not to show what she was thinking, which could be summed up as, "Shit."

This was supposed to have been her in. What Luna and her had planned to be her foot in the door with the **** eaters.

Tell them a sob story of how she’d grown up with muggles that hadn’t liked her only to be saved by some kindly wizard. It should have set her up perfectly for them to see her as someone who had every reason to love magic and hate muggles, with being a pureblood and all that to take care of the rest.

So why were they kicking her out right when they were about to start talking about all the stuff she wanted to hear?

She struggled for a few heartbeats to come up with something to say. Something that would get them to change their minds and let her stay.

But that something didn’t come, and Harry was **** to grudgingly stand from the table and followed a reappeared Duke out onto the back yard.

Three of the women watched the two go, the fourth choosing instead to enjoy her tea.

“Poor thing.” Diana remarked once they’d disappeared behind a hedgerow.

“I have a hard time believing it.” Said the beauty. “For a child to grow up being little better then a house elf to muggles. She should be in a state of ruin, yet she acts like it was nothing.”

“That’s because she’s a fraud.” Dismissed Violet, uncaring of the glare from Narcissa. “Am I wrong? Let’s review. Instead of Draco inheriting the Black line - which I know you had mixed feelings on, Narcissa – there’s Seirios.

“Abused by muggles but somehow not damaged goods. Clearly in love with the magical world but doesn’t hate muggles. Lost and alone in a new land with little knowledge, entirely moldable, only to stumble into being perfect placed to be scooped up by us. The undoubted head of the Black house and all that it holds. She’s everything we need and exactly what you’ve always wanted.

“Or am I wrong, Narcissa?” The little woman rested her elbow on the arm of her chain and her chin in her hand, giving a thin smirk. “Or did you suddenly stop wanting the one thing we know you’ve wanted more then anything for years?”

Narcissa didn’t lift her glare. “She passed the test, did she not?”

“Oh, she did. I’m not contesting that.” Violet leaned back, waving away the concern by plucking a strawberry. “But just because I don’t have an answer for that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Mark my words, she’s too perfect. She’s too perfect for what we need at too perfect a time and too perfectly is taking advantage of your weakness when it comes to family.”

“So you’ve claimed.” Narcissa snipped.

“So I know.” Violet stated. “If I had it my way, we wouldn’t take any chances and she’d disappear. But since I know we won’t do that, we need to treat her with an overabundance of caution. Who’s to say Dumbledore didn’t brew this up somehow? He’s a powerful man.”

“Then we play this safe.” Diana stepped in before Narcissa could continue, a disarming tone to her voice. “If Seirios is who she says she is, we can’t afford alienating her by taking drastic measures digging for a truth that isn’t there. If she’s lying, there are plenty of ways to get her to slip up.

“And even if she is a fraud - not that I’m saying she is.” The blond said with a soothing gesture to her piebald companion. “What’s to stop us from turning her? At the end of the day, she’s still undoubtedly the head of Black. That alone would make it worth it.”

“That would be Maria’s job.” Violet said with a smirk aimed at the beauty.

The beautiful woman, now known as Maria, glowered at Violet. “We should not be encouraging such things.”

“Not with my niece, we shouldn’t.” Narcissa leaned back in her chair with a frown that came across as more of a professional pout. “I’ll look further into her inclinations over the summer. Hopefully, she’ll turn out to be one who merely is open to playing the whole field.”

“And if she isn’t?” Violet persisted. “Her getting caught chasing skirts will lose her all the support we need her to have.”

Narcissa sighed and picked up her cup, looking into the dredges of her remaining tea as if to divine a clear answer. “If I can’t find evidence to the contrary before summer ends, I’ll have a talk with her. Depending on how she takes that, I’ll float some corrective options past her.”

Draining her drink, she set the cup down and took a fortifying breath. “But enough of that. Now that you’ve met her, what are your thoughts on how we should handle her introduction at the summer solstice session?”

---

"Stupid, stupid.” Harry mentally berated herself as she followed Duke along the path of what seemed to be a hedgerow maze. She wasn’t really paying attention to the twists and turns they took, too busy throwing a pity party in her head on how crap of a spy she was turning out to be.So on they went, Duke not volunteering to start up a conversation and Harry occupied with wondering what juicy **** eater secrets were being talked about right now back on the patio.

The ravenette was soon enough broken out of her thoughts by the sound of talking growing nearer. Harry tried to gauge where it was coming from, but there was something to this maze that was messing with her ability to tell. It wasn’t until they rounded another turn that it became clear.

Before them was an open garden within the maze. But it wasn’t a garden in the way that the Weasley’s had, full of vegetables and gnome holes.

Instead, it was much more decorative, full of different types of flowers and colorful bushes, an ornate birdbath with feeders spread around, all arranged around a gently flowing little creek full of smooth stones.

And there, on the other side of the water, was one of those fancy yard buildings Petunia had always wanted. Basically just a roof held up by support beams, letting people pretend they were outside while not having to be in the sun.

Sitting at a table under the roofs shade were three girls that Harry recognized right away. Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and Daphne Greengrass.

They stopped talking once they realized they were no longer alone, watching the newcomers as they crossed a small wooden bridge and approached their not-house.

Duke stepped aside and gave a little bow. “Miss Greengrass, Miss Bulstrode, Miss Parkinson. Your expected guest, Miss Black.”

“Thank you, Duke. You may return to mother.” Daphne said, she nor the other girls rising from their seats. “Please, Miss Black. Join us.”

Duke turned and left, leaving Harry alone in the final small distance to the three girls.

For some reason she couldn’t pinpoint, Harry felt a bit wary of the trio. Maybe it was because he was already familiar with these girls and couldn’t help being on edge around Slytherins without his wand. Maybe it was because she didn’t have Narcissa to help with any diplomatic screw ups during what was supposed to be an important time in her infiltration.

Not that she expected to make any without any stupidly good-looking women around.

Sure, there was Daphne, who was definitely attractive. But in a way that was much more realistically traditional. Long blond hair and sharp blue eyes set in a pretty, still maturing face. And now that Harry was getting a closer look then normal, it seemed that the daughter of Greengrass might have taken more after her father when it came to her body, as she was noticeably taller and willowier then her mother.

Then there was Pansy, who clearly was Violet’s child. Short and petite, she might have been cute if it wasn’t for her naturally severe expression and the fact she wasn’t wearing a paper bag over her head.

Yes, she was still very much Pug Face Pansy. Bulging, dark eyes that were too far apart, a squashed nose that one could almost look up the nostrils of even when she wasn’t looking down it at you, and lips so thin, they might as well not even be there.

The last was Millicent, who was pretty much Crabbe or Goyle in a dress.

“So,” said a dismissive voice in the back of Harry’s mind. “Once the big bad **** Eater wives had gotten their fill of Seirios, they dumped her on their daughters so they could get to the real business? Wonderful.”

It took a couple of steps before that thought sparked a realization that made Harry stop and stare.

If Diana was Daphne’s mother, and Violet Pansy’s, that must mean…

Millicent stared coldly back at Harry, clearly knowing exactly what the new girl was thinking.

Harry snapped her eyes away and quickly took the only open seat at the round table, which was thankfully between Pansy’s and Daphne’s.

Except it wasn’t.

Their seats weren’t as spaced as far apart as Harry’s was from Pansy’s and Daphne’s. It was a small amount, one she hadn’t noticed till she sat down. But now that she was here, it created a separation between them. They were together while Harry was alone.

“Welcome to my family’s home, Heiress Black.” The blonde-haired girl broke the silence, professionally posh in tone but lacking any of the warmth of her mother. “I am Heiress Daphne Greengrass – please, call me Daphne – and these are my friends, Heiress Pansy Parkinson and Heiress Millicent Bulstrode.”

“Uh, Hi.” Harry replied before realizing how dumb sounding what she’d just said was and trying to recover. “I mean, umm, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Heiress Seirios Black and, uh, thank you for having me.”

Daphne accepted the correction with an uncaring wave of her hand before continuing. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you have us quite curious.”

Millicent let out a dismissive snort, not paying Harry’s presence any mind and instead focusing on the many perfectly displayed snacks on the table.

“You see, we returned home for our summer holiday only a few days ago,” Daphne continued. “And usually this is a time to be spent with family, at least to begin with. Yet less then a week in, here we are, all our mothers in a hurry over someone we’ve never even heard of.”

“Not that we’ve been told anything.” Pansy stated stiffly.

“We were not until today.” Daphne gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “It was only a few hours ago that we were told what had them in such a state was a person at all, let alone that we would be meeting you so soon.

“So please forgive our rudeness, but would you mind if we asked some questions to get to know you? You are, of course, free to ask any about us in return.”

“Sure.” Harry erred with a shrug, wary but not seeing any reason to turn down the request. It wasn’t like these girls mattered compared to their mothers, so she might as well kill some time answering their questions until she could get back to Narcissa and try to weasel some info out of her.

If the amount of information Harry had given to the women over the course of their conversation could be said to have been carefully trimmed, the details she gave to the girls was heavily pruned, and getting closer and closer to being outright chopped down as their talk went on.

Daphne’s questions were much like her, textbook polite but without any real caring, making Harry feel like she was less of a person to the girl, but instead something like a used car. One that Daphne had been curiously interested in when it had first caught her eye, but was becoming increasingly indifferent of as the facts came out.

Pansy was something of Daphne’s opposite. But instead of going from uninterested to interested, she was actively dismissive from the start. Like a spoiled daughter of rich parents taking her out to buy her first car, she nitpicked every little thing she could in hopes that they’d get the message and take her to look at a car that better met her standards. Or in this case, that Harry would – possibly in tears – leave of her own accord.

Millicent spent the entire time giving Harry the cold shoulder, eating, and blatantly waiting for the ravenette to leave.

To say Harry was agitated by the end of their meeting would be an understatement.

Between Daphne acting like she was unworthy, Pansy’s constant sniping, Millicent’s silent snubbing, all while Harry’s ability to retaliate was effectively nil without breaking her cover as someone who’d never stepped foot in Hogwarts, the only thing that kept Harry’s temper from making her hex the three was the fact she didn’t have a wand.

“And I still can’t believe you’re the same age as us.” Pansy scoffed, wrapping up her second breakdown of everything that was wrong with Harry. “Are you really sure you’re as old as you say?”

“Why so concerned, Pansy?” Daphne asked airily. She’d allowed Pansy to take over a bulk of the conversation to join Millicent in eating - though she snacked much more daintily - only chipping in here and there to serve as an excuse for Pansy to keep the derision going.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Pansy stated with false puzzlement, as if the tearing down she’d been forcing down Harry’s throat had merely been an honest critique for the newcomers own good. “Now that she’s here in Britain, who’s to say she won’t be joining us at Hogwarts? It would be unfair for someone so…”

Pansy pointing glancing at Harry’s chest. “Far behind to be placed amongst us before they’re ready.”

Confused, Harry glanced down without thinking before realization struck and she jerked her eyes back up. Though part of her wished she hadn’t, as all there was to see was Pansy’s satisfied grin.

“At least you wouldn’t be the shortest girl in our year, anymore.” Daphne said offhandedly.

“Oh, it has its perks.” Pansy shrugged. “Most guys like shorter girls. Let’s them feel big and powerful. Well, so long as that girl has everything else a woman should have. If not, it really makes you wonder about the guy.”

The conversation shifted, the two continued on to chat about boys and school and other things Harry wasn’t paying attention to now that they were finally done with her. All she cared about was getting away from these snakes and actually accomplishing something today.

Which she would happily do if she wasn’t trapped here.

And she wasn’t talking about the maze. That at least was a problem she could tackle head on. Instead, she was trapped because leaving without some sort of proper reason to would be tantamount to running away.

And Harry refused to allow them to think they’d driven her off.

So she sulked in silence, temper stewing, waiting for Duke or Narcissa or a magical door or whatever it was that to appear that meant she could leave.

After what felt like hours of stubbornly ignoring the displayed food and drink, regardless of how much her stomach protested, it was Duke that reappeared to lead her away. Daphne gave her a polite but empty goodbye, which Harry returned before turning her back on the trio. As she angrily marched away, the ravenette silently seethed, resolved to the fact that if she or he never had to deal with those three again, it would be too soon.

---

The kitchen was quiet.

Other then the gently crackling fire within the hearth, there was nothing there to make a sound. Not the dishes on the table, still holding bits of a simple dinner. Not the shelves, bare spots showing where cups and plates had once sat for many years. Not the pantry, its open door showing it stocked to the brim.

A little brown mouse, plain and unmagical as could be, squeezed out from under a cabinet and into the light cast by the fire.

Its whiskers twitched, this was and that, as its tiny black eyes took in the room and its nose worked quite furiously.

After several moments, it seemed to decide that it was safe enough to proceed and crept across the floor to the kitchen table. Once under its cover, it zigged this way and that, around the thin legs of the chairs and the thick legs of the table, stopping occasional where it found crumbs to eat before continue on.

There, at the other end of the table from where it had started, was the prize that had tempted it out of hiding.

Bits of bacon, scent so strong as to not even be a day old.

The mouse rushed to the first morsel, devouring it as fast as it could before moving to the second. The amount of bacon present was small, but more then what one mouse could possibly eat.

That, however, didn’t stop it from trying.

Unfortunately, before the mouse could consume more then half of the available meal, the fire that had been so docile roared up, its flames whooshing green.

At once the mouse bolted for the cabinet, bacon left behind as it fled for its life.

It managed to disappear just before a head of dirty blond hair appeared out of the flames, the body of the young woman it was attached to following behind.

The girl stood straight, brushed a bit of ash off her shoulder as the fire receded back into its place and looked around.

She looked at the table, with its dirty dishes. The empty shelves and open pantry. The claw marks gouged into the old wood floor. A silver candlestick on the mantle, lonely.

Lit candlestick in hand, the girl followed the claw marks out into the hallway, her silvery eyes blinked as she looked at the unlit gas lamps above her head. Blinked as she looked at the bare spot on the wall. Blinked as she stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up into the darkness of the house.

Staring into the dark bedroom, looking at the figure laying unmoving atop a bed.

She walked to the other side of the bed, set the candlestick down on the nightstand, slipped off her bunny slippers, and laid down atop the bed next to the person, silvery eyes taking in the others face in great detail before turning to stare up at the four poster beds canopy, just as the others green eyes were.

It was some time before the silence was broken.

“Luna?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this whole spying thing.”

“Oh? Did they find you out?”

“What? No.” Harry shook her head. “I mean-”

“Did Mrs. Malfoy show you off in that dress to people?”

“Well, yeah. But-”

“Did those people believe your story?”

“I guess, but-”

“It sounds like you did good to me.”

“No, I didn’t!” Harry sat up, frustrated. “I wasn’t ready for the meeting at all! I made a fool of myself right from the start and as soon as they were ready to start talking about **** eater things, they kicked me out! A good spy wouldn’t have made an ass of themselves and would have found a way to stick around. Or been able to plant some listening device or whatever. But I didn’t.”

“What did happen?” Luna asked, peering up at Harry.

And so she told her.

Of the meeting at Greengrass manor and how she’d made herself look like an idiot twice before even reaching the table.

Of how she’d told the women the whole fabricated story that Luna had helped her stitch together from truths.

Of how she’d been kicked out into the garden as soon as the women wanted to talk about ‘private’ stuff.

“And then I spent hours out there, stuck being a punching bag for a bunch of slytherins.” Harry complained, now laying down again next to Luna. “And you know what the best part is? As soon as we got back here, I tried to get info from Mrs. Malfoy about what they’d talked about and she brushed me off like I was some kid before leaving.”

Luna hummed thoughtfully.

“So yeah. I’m a crap spy. I’m a crap girl. And I’m crap at being a crappy person. Everything Kreacher did and I couldn’t even work up the nerve to fire him. As soon as he started crying, I caved and let him stay. Not to mention Buckbeak. The only reason he’s safe back at Hogwarts now is because Mrs. Malfoy said giving him to the school was tax deductible.”

Silence was all there was for a few moments, maybe a minute. It was all time Harry spent readying herself for the counter argument. Ron would have jumped in already, stubbornly declaring how Harry had done fine. Hermione would have thought about it for a moment like Luna was before picking Harry apart in how she was wrong, and how she’d done the best that could have been expected.

“Harry?” Luna began, sitting up.

“Yeah?” Harry said gruffly, ready to counter Luna’s counter-argument.

But Luna didn’t argue.

Instead, she slid a leg across Harry’s middle to sit on her lap, the blond’s yellow nightgown bunching up to reveal the smooth skin of her thighs. Harry stared up at her as she bent over, dirty gold strands catching the candlelight.

“I think you’re a very beautiful person.”

They’re lips met.

Harry lay there, unprepared and eyes open. She didn’t know what to do just as her brain didn’t know what to think.

Luna was kissing her.

“You’re a failure.”

She could feel where their hips met.

“You can’t do anything right when it counts.”

They were in this big house together, alone.

“You killed Sirius.”

Luna drew back, tilting her head to the side like a dog as she examined Harry. “No. Now isn’t the time for that, is it?”

Harry made a confused sound as she stared up at Luna, mouth opening and closing in imitation of a goldfish several times before she found her voice. “No! I mean yes! I want to. I really do.”

“No, you don’t.” Luna said with her normal, dreamy earnestness, as if she hadn’t just failed to start… whatever it was they might have been about to do. “I can hear all the doping dropers and glimping gobblers fighting in your head. I’m surprised you can hear anything right now.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that. There very much were too many things bouncing around in her head to focus on the task at hand.

She’d failed to handle the slytherins. She’d failed to get info from the wives. She’d failed in the department of mysteries. She’d failed in the graveyard.

She was failing Luna.

There were too many things she needed to say. Too many questions she needed to ask.

She wanted the truth from someone she could trust.

But Luna had already helped her with so much without Harry giving anything back. It didn’t feel right to keep asking her for more, even if it was just an honest opinion.

Back and forth, back and forth Harry went in her mind, struggling to decide what to do or even on what to focus on. What to process from the events of today alone. Everything wanted out at once and she didn’t even know if she wanted any of it allowed out.

It was the memory of the sly, biting comment from Pansy that somehow slipped through.

“Are my boobs small?”

There was a pregnant pause before Harry realized what she’d said. Humiliation and regret filled her at once. Face burning from embarrassment, Harry turning her gaze away so she would no longer meet Luna’s unblinking one.

Why in the world had she asked that? Of all things that weighed on her mind, why had it decided to put priority to the insecurity of her breasts? His or her body wasn’t important, let alone boobs she’d only had for a couple of days and could lose at any time! What would he care about them once they were gone?

Luna hummed and Harry saw the blond tilt her head to the other side as she looked down.

“Yes.” Luna said conversationally.

Harry didn’t know what or how, but it felt as if something deep inside her had been badly cut. But before she could figure out the what or why, Luna continued.

“They’re bigger then mine though. See?”

And before Harry could even think to stop her, Luna pulled her nightgown off over her head.

Skin just as pale as the rest of her slid smoothly over Luna’s slight form, bare now everywhere for Harry to see except for the modest panties covering her sex and the long socks traveling up to her knees.

Her wonderfully smooth, slender belly met her ribs perfectly, the unblemished skin swelling gently on her chest into the small, youthful form of her breasts.

Where Harry’s own had the shape of full teardrops, Luna’s smaller bosom was defiant of the pull of gravity. Wide at the base, they sprouted shortly out to make soft mounds that gently peaked with dainty, faintly pink nipples that were firm in the cool air of the room.

Harry stared at them, mouth suddenly dry and eyes threatening to pop out of her head, brain dead silent.

“Oh good. They’ve stopped fighting.” Luna said with a happy smile.

“I… But… Luna.” Harry tried to say something - she didn’t know what - but her tongue seemed to have forgotten how to put words together.

Luna kept smiling, patiently waiting for the ravenette she was still sitting on to get her ducks back in order.

It took nearly a minute for Harry’s brain to get going again. By which time, she tried to hand Luna her nightgown back. “You should put this back on!”

“Why’s that?” Asked Luna, taking the nightgown but not putting it on.

“Because you should only be showing yourself like this to someone who’s… Who’s…”

Luna put a finger to her lips in thought. “Important to me?”

“Well, yeah. But-”

“You are important to me, Harry.”

It shouldn’t have been possible, but Harry’s blush grew even hotter and redder, as if her head was a steam engine about ready to explode. “Y-Yeah. I… I mean. You are too. T-To me, I mean… But we’re not… You know…”

“Dating?”

Harry’s tongue forgot how to work again, leaving Harry unable to do anything but nod faintly.

“I want to date you, Harry. Would you like to date me?”

The burning ravenette let out an explosive wheeze of hot air and again nodded faintly.

“Yay.” Luna declared dreamily before laying down on Harry, breasts to breasts, to wrap her in a hug and plant another kiss on her lips.

Harry made an exhausted, happy noise and hugged her girlfriend back.