Certain Dark Things || Book Three

xxi. though hate were why men breathe

"We don't have to go, you know. We could stay with you."

Elara had been repeating something similar for the duration of the week leading up to Hallowe'en. She repeated it again now and still Harriet shook her head and repressed the morose little sigh trying to escape her middle as she watched the other students march by Filch and file out the door.

Harriet wanted to go to Hogsmeade. She wanted to go just like everyone else, her entire class fit to burst with excitement over the prospect of visiting the Wizarding village, but she couldn't. She hadn't given the permission slip that came with her Hogwarts letter this summer much thought, considering she chose to pretend her real, legal guardians didn't bloody exist most of the time—but without the slip, Harriet couldn't leave the castle. She'd asked Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore if they'd sign—if anyone but the Dursleys could sign—but both had gotten a curious, unsettled glint in their eyes when they said they couldn't sign and that it'd be best if she stayed in the castle for now.

Harriet knew she had moments of stupidity and dense-thinking—she was thirteen, it came with the territory—but she recognized lying well enough when she saw it. Something went unsaid in her professors' answers, a reason for why they didn't push and prod at the rules to give Harriet a bit of leeway. She wasn't looking for special treatment necessarily, but she hadn't seen the Dursleys since she was ten and imagined popping by for them to sign a magical permission form wouldn't go over well—not after leaving a few dozen snakes in their foyer. The professors preferred Harriet remain at Hogwarts and she wondered why.

It also didn't help that the permission slip had burst into flames when she tried to forge Aunt Petunia's signature, putting paid to that idea.

"No, I'll be fine here," she said to her friends, smiling as best she could. "I might work on Transfiguration homework—or my map."

Hermione fussed with the fastenings of her cloak. "Don't experiment with that Charm while no one's here," she warned, holding a finger up. "According to the books, the Protean Charm can react unpredictably and potentially spark fires if overheating occurs—."

"Yes, I know, Hermione. I won't try it."

"But maybe we should stay. It's not fair to you—and it's just a silly village, after all—."

Hermione's statement ended in a yelp when Harriet pinched her side. "No, go to Hogsmeade and stop dithering. Get me something from that candy-shop everyone's always talking about."

"Honeydukes?"

"Yeah, that one."

Elara fidgeted with her robe pocket and pulled out a slip of parchment and a small pencil. "What do you want?"

"Oh, um. Chocolate Frogs? And one of those nice gift assortments—you know the ones the pure-blood families always use for their Yule gifts? It'd be great to not have to owl order this year."

"There's usually another Hogsmeade trip before Yule."

"And they'll be sold out, knowing my luck." Harriet snorted. "Could you get some Cauldron Cakes, too?"

"Mhm."

"And some parchment? I'm almost out. And quills. And—."

"Mhm."

Elara dutifully wrote all of Harriet's rambling down. "I don't have my money on me, I have to pop back to the dorm—."

"It's fine."

"But I—ow!"

Harriet jumped when Elara flicked her between her brows. "I said it's fine."

"Girls!" came McGonagall's firm reprimand, the professor having appeared at Filch's side. Harriet guessed she might be there to make sure she didn't slip out. Not that Harriet couldn't; she'd found a classroom on the upper floor with a wonky window opening onto an eave she could, theoretically, slide down into the tree growing below it. She could cut across the grounds easy enough—but she'd never get past the bloody gates, even with her Invisibility Cloak. She couldn't fathom the kind of trouble she'd be in if a professor caught her. "Miss Granger, Miss Black, are you heading to the village, or are you staying behind?"