The rain dripped down Harry’s hair, trickling into her eyes and then blinked down to her cheeks. She had been waiting to be picked up from school for over an hour. Glancing back towards the school from her perch on the steps, now dark, Harry heaved a sigh and prepared to walk home.

“God,” she thought, “the least they could do is pick me up on time.” She then immediately shook herself mentally. If she started thinking like that the bitterness and anger would ruin the rest of her night. Taking a deep breathe she forced herself to get off the steps and start the long walk to her house. Well, the French’s house.

Five years ago Harriet had been plucked from her cupboard at her Aunt and Uncles after several anonymous complaints had been sent to Social Services. The social workers and police had watched the house for days and interviewed Harriet’s teachers, building a case against the Dursley’s. Thankfully, their hard work had paid off and Harriet had been removed from their “care”.

For several weeks the then 5 year old Harriet had stayed in a specialized treatment facility, eating whatever she wanted and delighting the nursing staff. Harriet was so hopeful, so gloriously happy. The social workers had said she’d get a new family, one that would keep her safe and take care of her. Harriet spent hours and days imagining it. She had been so optimistic back then…

Harry tripped, distracted by her thoughts and the past, and hissed at the pain in her stubbed foot. Hopping and grimacing, she waited until the pain had eased to continue walking. It was three miles to the French’s home, and she was already soaked through to her underwear. The rain dripping in her eyes made her feel like she was wading through a rushing river rather than walking along in a quiet suburban neighborhood.

The Frenchs’ would be upset she had walked home without permission, but there wasn’t anything for it. Her stomach cramped up and she laughed inwardly, as she always did, at people calling that sick feeling of anxiety “butterflies”.

“More like jet planes, or poison dart frogs, or nuclear waste bubbling up…” Harriet allowed her imagination full reign as she sought to distance herself from what the future held when she got home. It was always the same, the accusations and blame for anything that went wrong, the screaming and yelling until Harriet was a blubbering mess, the threats of being returned to Social Services, and the unfair punishments, the physical labor that was her foster parent’s substitute for not being able to legally beat her.

Soon, too soon, Harriet found herself at the door to her home. It was a nice, upper middle class home. The Frenchs were moderately wealthy, extremely religious, and all together awful. When they had first taken in Harriet years before, she thought it was the beginning of all her dreams coming true. Here was a Mom and Dad to replace her own, the ones who had died in a fiery crash when she was just a year old. Here were two little brothers to take the place of her awful cousin. There was even a dog, and a pool, and she had her own room! It was heaven on earth.

Unfortunately, the honeymoon period was short lived. Nothing Harriet did pleased her foster mother, Cathy. She wasn’t girly enough, she made too many messes, she had too many accidents… everyday it was something new. To her friends and at church, Cathy was a saint who had taken in this wayward, disobedient, damaged child who didn’t appreciate what the Frenchs had done for her. At home, Cathy raged and screamed at Harriet for any small thing. She told her constantly how she had to be perfect in order to be loved by someone who wasn’t “her blood”. She blatantly favored her real children, who began treating Harriet as more of a servant than a sister. Many times Harriet had thought of running away or requesting a new placement, but where would she go? And, deep inside, Harriet wanted to stay. She wanted to prove to them she was worthy of their love, worthy of a family. The Frenchs’ were her last chance at a family, no one wants to adopt a ten year old.

“Besides, the grass isn’t always greener,” she thought.

Harriet took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside. It was quiet, too quiet, inside the house. She stripped off her wet boots before she made a mess, and started to quietly walk towards the stairs.

“Maybe, just maybe,” Harriet thought, “I can get upstairs and go to sleep and put off the yelling until tomorrow”.

“Harriet!” Cathy’s voice boomed from the kitchen, “is that you? Come in here!” Cathy sounded odd, using her “on the phone voice” and not her hateful, Harriet-specific voice. Harriet walked quickly towards the kitchen, feeling her anxiety ratchet up. Her body was suddenly ice cold and her breathing almost nonexistent. She tried to suppress it, using her considerable will to shove it inside. She imagined taking a giant block of lead and shoving it on top of her feelings, weighing them down, forcing them under.

Harriet entered their kitchen and was immediately confused. A tall, long haired man in a strange set of clothes stood at the table across from a seated Cathy. His hair was an inky black, framing a severe face. His clothes were off, out of fashion maybe? Harriet couldn’t put her finger out what was off about him. Fashion wasn’t her strong suit. He held a drink but did not seem to have actually drank anything. Cathy had a strained, fake-happy look on her face.

“Harriet sweetie, this man has amazing news!” Cathy reported, smiling too wide. “It seems you’ve done so well at school that you’ve earned a scholarship to a special boarding school!”
Harriet started at Cathy, then moved her eyes towards the man. He stared at her unblinkingly. She felt a strange sensation behind her eyes, and had to blink rapidly and turn away, back to Cathy.

“What? Really?” Harriet asked, still confused. And wet. “I don’t understand, what’s the school for? I mean my scores are good and all but…” The man finally spoke.

“This school is for students gifted in a variety of arts and sciences and possessing special qualities that the school values. Your determination and will and power,” he looked at her with a strangely intense look at the word power, “have more than qualified you, far more than your ‘scores’ ever could.” Harriet thought this all still sounded crazy, but if it meant getting out of this place…

Cathy suddenly spoke up, “Well I’m not sure she can go. You see, she’s often disobedient here at home, and she lies about all sorts of things,” Cathy looked at Harriet with a knowing look, and then back at the man. “I’m not sure I can trust her to go to some special school on her own, and even worse to be rewarded like that when she doesn’t truly deserve it!” Cathy said this in her typical, triumphant way. Like it was her duty in life to see that Harriet was punished for every sin, real and imagined. Harriet felt a pit open in her stomach and frantically fought against the urge to scream and rage and break anything in reach. The man’s gaze suddenly shot to her, again with that strangely intense look in his eye. She was so distracted by this odd behavior that she calmed slightly, forgetting her anxiety as she tried to figure this man out.

“I’m sorry, madam…” the man drawled, Harriet still had no idea what his name was, “ but I’ve already spoken with her true legal guardian, the social worker Melinda Bones, and have gotten approval for the change. I will be taking Harriet to the school tomorrow. Please make sure she is packed and ready by noon.” He eyed Harriet one more time as he turned to leave. “I do NOT tolerate lateness.” With that, he walked away and out the door. The door shut and Harriet and Cathy stood in a strained and awkward silence for several moments.

Finally Cathy spoke. “I bet you’re thinking this is great. You get to go out there to your special school,” Cathy's voice was sharp and quiet and laced with cruelty, ”But I know the truth.”

Cathy poked her finger into Harriet’s chest viciously, leaving what Harriet knew would be a small round bruise. “Your parents are dead, and your poor Aunt and Uncle tried to take care of you, and what did you do? Acted like you were abused!”

Cathy was louder now, this was one of her favorite topics. “You’re an ungrateful little sinner, and no one will ever love you. I’ve tried! And all you do is disrespect me and my husband and lie! Well I’ve had it! I’m glad you’re leaving. I’ll be letting your social worker know that you won’t be welcome back.”

With that, Cathy stalked away towards the stairs. Harriet stood frozen. Cathy stomped up the stairs and then stopped at the top, where she shouted down, “And don’t even think of taking a single thing that WE bought you. Those belong to OUR family.” Cathy slammed her bedroom door closed, and the house descended into silence.

Harriet stared at her bed, the meager piles of her belongings spread out and sorted. She had a few pairs of jeans, and her favorite shirts, a ton of underwear and socks (old, but still decent), and two pairs of sneakers. Another pile had her school supplies, and another her collection of books. Cathy had deigned to allow her to keep the school backpack she had bought (“with my husband’s hard-earned money!”), which Harriet was thankful for, but she had no idea how she would fit everything in.

Her breathing speed increased as a world of worries assaulted her mind. So much was changing, so fast, and she had no control over any of it, as usual. Her stomach bubbled with acid, and her mind felt too full. She tried to focus and took all her thoughts and imagined shoving them down, down deep inside. It worked, mostly. Her breathing eased and she was able to think, although her stomach still felt like tanks were driving around inside. Suddenly she realized she had a big problem: she hadn’t eaten since lunch at school, and had no idea when she would be able to eat tomorrow, or if she would be expected to pack a lunch. There was no way Cathy would be giving her anything, Cathy had a lot of rules about food in the house. Harriet wasn’t allowed to get snacks or food on her own, only at mealtimes. Cathy accused Harriet of stealing food quite often...and was usually right, even if she couldn’t prove it.

After being starved at the Dursleys, Harriet had never really felt secure about food. She always felt like she needed to hoard and hide what she called “emergency food”. Even with the regular meals for the past five years, she still couldn’t let go of this control, this safety net.

Harriet waited until 2am, and then snuck down to the kitchen. Cathy was laying on the couch, no doubt trying to wait and catch her in the act, but Harriet knew she couldn’t stay awake for long. She had a lot of practice with these late night escapades. Carefully, Harriet opened the cupboard and selected several boxes of snack foods. Once upstairs she selected several snacks from each box (crackers, slim jims, anything thin and easy to hide) and then snuck back downstairs and placed the boxes back exactly where she had found them. Harriet would place the snacks in the inside pockets of her jacket where Cathy wouldn’t think to look.

Harriet went back upstairs to finish packing, automatically packing her belongings as she tried to imagine what tomorrow would bring. Some time later, she realized she had packed everything up, and was surprised, astonished even, to see that everything had fit.

“How is that even possible?” She wondered, staring at her backpack, full to the brim with all her worldly possessions. Harriet looked around the room and under the bed, thinking that maybe she had just missed something while packing. But no, everything that was “hers” was packed. Shaking her head, Harriet figured she had better get some sleep, since she was obviously losing it.

Early the next morning, Harriet woke up and sat on her bed, staring at the door. She couldn’t bare going downstairs and seeing Cathy and her husband. They had been her family, awful as it usually was. And now suddenly they weren’t. She was a stranger in a home that was no longer hers, and it was awkward and awful and made her stomach churn up into her throat. Harriet decided she would just read and forget about everything until the man came to pick her up. Digging one of her books out of her backpack, she laid on the bed and forgot about everything for a few blissful hours.

At exactly 11:55, the man rang the doorbell. Harriet heard it from upstairs, and quickly sprang to her feet. She grabbed her backpack, put on her secret-snack-jacket, and slowly opened the door to listen. Sure enough, the man was speaking in a low tone to Cathy.

“Is the girl packed and ready to go?” He asked, his voice deep and melodic, with a hint of aggravation.

“I sure hope so!” Cathy replied, laughing scornfully, “She’s been up there all day, hasn’t even bothered to say goodbye to any of us. Ungrateful child!” Harriet heard no reply from the man, and decided she might as well head down. Harriet clomped down the stairs and was soon standing beside Cathy. Unbidden, she felt emotion rise up her throat and prick her eyes. She tried not to think about how she was giving up this chance at a family. If only she could have been better it might have worked out. Harriet took a deep breathe and held it, trying to force herself under control.

The man asked, “Are you ready?” Harriet just stared up at him and nodded, trying not to look at Cathy in case she started blubbering and begging her to let her come back.

“Wait just a minute Mr. Snape!” Cathy said slyly. Harriet knew what that tone meant. And now she knew the man’s name at least. “I need to check her stuff to make sure she didn’t steal from us, she's quite the little thief. Taking food and all sorts of things!”

Mr. Snape stared at her unblinking. “It is Professor Snape, and I don’t have any time for this nonsense. If it pleases you, I will check her when we board the train later today, and make sure she returns any stolen items. Good day madam.” With that, Mr. Snape, no Professor Snape, marched away out the door, clearly assuming Harriet would simply follow right along. Which she did, not even glancing backward at Cathy or the house where she had spent five years of her life.

Harriet followed the man dressed in all black, to a school she had never known existed, for a talent she didn’t know she had.

---------------------------------------

For two exactly two blocks, Harriet’s world was a safe, sane and normal place. For two blocks, she had followed her Professor assuming they would be boarding a bus to get to the train station he had mentioned earlier. For two blocks, Harriet had assumed that her life, while taking a very unexpected turn, would remain more or less the same.

Instead, they turned off the street and directly into a copse of trees in nature preserve. Harriet was suddenly very sure she was about to die.

“I followed a strange man to a strange school, and now he's leading me into the bushes to cut me up and murder me,” Harriet thought, stopping dead on the very outskirts of the trees. Her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest. She was frozen for several seconds until the Professor Snape turned and looked at her, annoyed.

“What are you doing? We are going to be…” Snape never had a chance to finish his sentence, because Harriet suddenly darted to the left and ran straight into the deeper part of the forest.

Within seconds, she had disappeared.

For two exactly two blocks, Harriet’s world was a safe, sane and normal place. For two blocks, she had followed her Professor assuming they would be boarding a bus to get to the train station he had mentioned earlier. For two blocks, Harriet had assumed that her life, while taking a very unexpected turn, would remain the normal everyday life of all the 3000 or so days of her life.

Instead, they turned off the street and directly into a copse of trees in a smal local nature preserve. Harriet was suddenly very sure she was about to die.

“I followed a strange man to a strange school, and now hes learning me into the bushes to cut me up and murder me,” Harriet thought, stopping dead on the very outskirts of the trees. She was frozen for several seconds until Professor Snape turned and looked at her, annoyed.

“What are you doing? We are going to be…” Snape never had a chance to finish his sentence, because Harriet suddenly screamed, “I'll never let you touch me!” darted to the left and ran straight into the deeper part of the forest.

Snape POV

Snape was stunned, confused, and very, very angry.

“When I get ahold of that girl,” He muttered to himself, imagining all the most disgusting potions ingredients she would be preparing. He grunted as he stumbled over a tree root as he quickly navigated through the forest, following the trail of magic Harriet left in her wake. What had gotten into her? He knew portkey travel was unpleasant, and perhaps a little scary for the uninitiated, but this behavior was uncalled for.

When he had spoken to the Social Worker through the floo (she had been placed by Dumbledore when the Dursley’s list custody), she had assured him that Harriet was familiar with her magic, with Hogwarts, and that she was a bright and happy child. This child seemed… damaged. Sullen. Deeply unhappy.

He was also surprised at the feel of her magical aura. He had expected it to be powerful, a result of her heritage and whatever special skills allowed her to survive the killing curse, and it certainly was. Her aura shown faintly to his practiced eye, shimmering golden and a faint red, looking like a scent trail weaving through the forest. However, there was something strange about it. It seemed...pressurized almost. Almost like a very young child about to have a bout of accidental magic.

He didn’t have time to wonder about the idiot girl’s aura, he reminded himself, as his cloak ripped slightly on a branch. Snape was tired of this nonsense, and used a wandless spell he had invented when Draco, his godson, was a toddler.

“Locus Hicvenit,” he thought to his wand. This was a particularly unpleasant spell, and Snape felt this would be an adequate part of Harriet’s punishment for this little escapade. He didn’t have to wait long. Out in the darkness in front of him he heard a screech, and then the sound of branches and leaves rustling. Harriet burst out of the bushes to his left, being dragged by the back of her jacket by a ghostly hand.

Snape eyed the girl and thought again how something seemed off about her. For one, the child seemed terrified, he could see the whites of her eyes like an animal caught in a trap. Her magic was also exploding outward and then collapsing inwards in short bursts. Her magic should be reacting sluggishly at her age, moving quickly only in cases of accidental magic or when she was in mortal danger. Snape shook his head and filed it away for discussing with Dumbledore.

“What do you think you are doing?” Snape began, getting louder and louder as his anger took over. “Leading me on a chase through the woods? Your birth parents paid a great deal of money for you to attend this school when you came of age, and instead of gratitude…” He trailed off as he realized Harriet’s magic was becoming increasingly violent, and her breathing was getting more rapid.

“Child what is WRONG with you?” Snape fairly snapped, more concerned as he took in her white face and terrified demeanor. He moved towards her, thinking to put a hand on her shoulder, when suddenly Harriet’s magic exploded outwards in a golden wave so intense that he could see it through his closed eyelids.

“Oh shit.” He thought.

- - -

Snape opened his eyes to a strange sight. He realized immediately, being an accomplished Legilimens, that he was inside a memory. Harriet’s he assumed.

“Even her memories have that same feeling of pressure,” he thought, staring around at the Dursley’s house. He could sense Harriet, and followed her aura to a small cupboard under the stairs. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see that it was not a memory version of Harriet, but Harriet’s actual consciousness inside the cramped space.

“Something is very wrong,” Snape thought, eyeing her sobbing form on the floor of the cupboard. She didn’t seem to be aware of him yet, and so Snape looked around inside the cupboard. His eyes grew wide as he realized what she had done.

Harriet had built herself a mind palace, something only the most skilled users of mind magic were able to do. A mind palace was a place of refuge skilled wizards built in the event that their consciousness was invaded. It kept them safe and sane until help could arrive. Trained wizards could store memories, emotions, even skills inside their mind palace so they would be completely inaccessible to any mind readers.

Unfortunately, untrained as she was, and still a child, this section of her consciousness was unstable and disorganized. Children were still growing, emotionally and physically, and a mind palace could easily interfere with their normal growth. Memories and skills the child should have could be hidden even from themselves inside an unstable mind palace…

“Oh shit,” Snape said mentally for the second time that night as the realization hit him. “She doesn’t know who she is…”