The Half-Blood Princess

The Potions Mistress

Summer 2017

Harley had learned how to like her life despite the empty pit she had in her heart. She ran her business, spent time with her godson, became godmother to Draco Malfoy's little boy Scorpius, and even spent some time in the Muggle world, keeping her family's love of music alive. She liked to think that her parents would enjoy some of the music that came about with the turn of the century and the years that followed.

One could say that her life was routine and predictable, and it was. Similar to how her father had lived after losing Lily, she desired that routine. It kept her sane.

However, in the Wizarding World, routine was never meant to last. One day she received an owl from McGonagall that asked for her presence for tea the next day at Hogwarts. Something was odd. She and McGonagall wrote, but never met in person. Why was the old witch suddenly desiring her company after nineteen years?

"Why do you think there's a bad reason? Maybe she's retiring and wants to say goodbye," Patricia suggested.

"Your unending optimism is trying my patience," Harley replied as she readied herself for the tea at the school. She had not been back there since the memorial, and didn't care to. Her last memories of the place were anything but happy. Going back to the place where Fred and Remus died for the first time was going to test her as badly as that damned dilapidated building did across from her shop.

"And aside, I think nothing short of death will make Minerva McGonagall retire. In fact, considering Professor Binns, that might not even stop her!"

Harley put on her lightest summer cloak--black, as always--and set out for the castle, halfheartedly considering using the Honeyduke's trapdoor just for fun. She didn't, and as she came upon the school, she was taken aback by its beauty just as she had been twenty-five years ago, when she had been fourteen. The damage of the war was nonexistent, nothing remained of that horrible time except for the memorial statue in the courtyard.

It was a phoenix rising from the ashes and the names of everyone who had died were etched in the base. Before going to the doors, Harley bent down to read them, tears prickling behind her eyes. They'd even included Crabbe, by all means a child who was just doing what his parents told him to.

Her father's name was near the top, and her skin prickled as her fingertip traced it. She held onto the necklace with her other hand, imagining she could feel warmth from it. She suddenly felt as if she was a teenager again, that these nineteen years had not passed at all.

"Hello, Harley. I figured you'd be here."

She jumped, having not heard someone approach. Some double-agent, she thought, standing to greet McGonagall, who had aged greatly since Harley had last seen her.

"Hello, Headmistress. A pleasure to see you," Harley said.

"And you. You know you needed to never wait for a formal invitation," McGonagall said. "It would have been nice to actually see you once in all this time."

"You'll forgive me, ma'am, but this please no longers holds such happy memories for me and I was not in any rush to return," Harley said honestly.

She followed her former professor into the castle, her body and mind reliving walking through them that first time, following Hagrid, wondering what House she would be in, dreading the tests the next day to determine her class placement.

A high ceiling bewitched to resemble the beautiful night outside. A thousand kids chattering excitedly in hushed voices. Floating candles. A breeze ruffling her hair, magicked like the ceiling. Dumbledore announcing her late arrival to the others to prevent rumours. The Hat telling her her father was alive, telling the world that she was a Gryffindor. Fred Weasley cheering for her inclusion to their House. And a pair of black eyes cautiously meeting hers across the High Table, assessing, calculating. Seeing in her a mother she had never known, a woman he would never forget.