When Peace got Screwed Over (Edited)

Meltdown

As the pink inquisition at Hogwarts continued, unrest amongst the ranks of the students grew. Dew to a new counterfeit policy, the black market was booming. Profit was most certainly made.

Harriet would have directly admitted to being involved but annoying people was so much more fun. Seamus and her had a new deal of a few weeks. She ran the operation, he and his friends supplied the counterfeit. Their meetings were their „dates". It was a very useful arrangement. Harriet had led one Dean Thomas in on the game. Try though they might, neither Seamus nor Dean could hide their „secret" crushes on each other. It was like watching reality TV. Just a lot less funny because it was happening in real life.

There they all were, sitting in a stuffy classroom that smelt like cats and contemplating taking a leap out of the nearest window because long hospital wing stays were certainly better than this. Harriet had convinced some fellow students to take it upon themselves to ask as stupid and ridiculous as possible questions during class so they could annoy Umbridge into letting them leave three minutes early each day. Hermione didn't approve of her tactics.

„We might be able to learn something if they didn't do that!" she had tried to convince Harriet, sounding like the world was ending.

„We wouldn't learn anything and you know it." Harriet sighed. „She isn't here to teach us. She's here as an asset to control a portion of Hogwarts for Dumbledore's remaining forces."

„Wait, what?" Pansy spun around towards Harriet.

Harriet rolled her eyes. „Look, there are at least six institutions controlled by Dumbledore and seven controlled by Riddle. Both are trying to gain the upper hand and force the wizarding world into a direction they believe is good."

„Okay." Pansy motioned for her to continue.

„They want whatever system will give them power. Despite Dumbledore being dead, his forces are going to continue fighting. The issue is, now that he is dead, we can't find his forces for sure because the special treatment has dropped."

„That's how you were finding them?!" Hermione almost shrieked.

„Calm down and yes."

„We didn't even think of that!"

„Because you're not me."

„Rude." Hermione rolled her eyes and paused for a moment. „So how do we fid the rest?"

„We can't find all of them, but I've been talking to Ron-„ Harriet began.

„What?" Now Pansy was joining the disbelieving parade.

„- and we know the main figureheads. All we need to do is take them out." She finished with an eyehole.

„Take them out? Like- kill them?"

„No. To dinner. I have reservations at the broomsticks for six o'clock."

„You actually want to kill them?"

„Got a better idea?"

„Lock them up?" Pansy suggested. Was this Annoy-Harriet-Day?

„We could wipe their memories?" she offered, a headache brewing along with the growing grating feeling on her nerves.

"That's too cruel!" Pansy said.

That was it.

„Has your Gryffindor made you soft Pansy? Or was it the wolf bite?" Harriet snapped.

Pansy took a step back as if she had been slapped. 

"Now, come on -" Hermione stepped in to defend her girlfriend.

"You, hush." Harriet said. "I know you have a saviour complex and all, but this is ridiculous. You're starting to sound like a broken record. Hermione Granger and the underdogs! Start a band!"

With that she left the room. The slamming of the door knocked the air out of her as well. Had she really just said that to her friends? Harriet rushed off in the direction of the room of requirement. She had found it quite a while back and it was the best room in the castle. An excellent place to hide and brilliant for resources.

Making sure the door was shut behind her she sank to the floor shaking. She was supposed to be able to breathe, right? She tried to gulp in some air. What was wrong? Were her lungs not working?

Wait! This was a panic attack right? She was having a panic attack.

What should she do?

What should she do?

She couldn't calm down. She needed to talk to someone, but who? The fireplace in front of her flashed green. Floo network.

Charlie's very confused head appeared in the flames.

"Harriet? What's going -" He paused. "Okay. I'm gonna-"

He pulled his head back. Next thing Harriet knew he was stumbling out of the fireplace.

"Hey," he said, squatting down. His hand reached out to brush a few stray hairs out of her face, concerned eyes taking in the state she was in.

He held out his hands. "If you need to hold onto something."

Harriet grabbed his hands so tightly, her knuckles were white. It wasn't painful, but it was pretty far from comfortable. That didn't mean he wanted to let go. Not that he would have anyway.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked softly, stroking the back of her knuckles with his thumbs. Her hands were as cold as ice.

"I - I don't know," she sobbed, clinging onto the warmth Charlie radiated. "I don't know. I don't know."

"Okay." He said, sitting down properly, quite difficult when you're holding someone's hands. "Doesn't matter. Need a hug?"

Next thing he knew, his arms were full of distressed Harriet Potter. He began rubbing circles on her back. It wasn't a panic attack as far as he knew. Harriet seemed, for lack of a better phrasing, to be having a meltdown. She had seemed two seconds away from a burnout when they last talked.

He should have definitely said something then. The guilt clawed at him like a Deathclaw at it's prey.

Harriet stopped crying. Well, not 'stopped' exactly. She transitioned from tears into hysterical laughter which was worse. Way worse. It sounded hollow, desperate. On the brink of madness.

The claws became sharper. Charlie pulled her closer to him.