"It is not the strongest of the species that survives, but the most adaptable to change." - Darwin
The first day ended without incident.
What followed settled into rhythm almost on its own, classes during the day, training whenever she could carve out the time, most often in the Room of Requirement. She went there regularly, without urgency, the way someone does when they know exactly what they're working toward and see no particular reason to rush it. Two weeks in, and it already felt less like discipline and more like habit.
It was, if she was being honest, the first time across two lives that she had the distinct impression of leveling up. Like a game character. Methodical, incremental, almost laughably literal. She found it funny in a tired sort of way, the kind of funny that only lands after the third consecutive hour of forcing mana through pathways that did not want to cooperate.
She no longer spent much time with the other Gryffindors. Not by design, exactly. More a natural consequence of time doing what time does. She had never been particularly close to many people to begin with, Hermione and Luna were the exceptions, each in their own way, for their own reasons. Ginny existed somewhere nearby, orbiting without ever quite entering, a familiar presence more than a friend.
Lately, most of her free time, and "free time" was doing considerable work in that sentence, was spent with Mutsuko.
Mutsuko had started to become isolated. Gradually, quietly, in the way chuunibyou always did once the novelty wore off. People found it charming for about a week. After that, the patience ran out. It was the same in every world, apparently, earnest conviction read as eccentricity, enthusiasm without filter read as exhausting. Mutsuko didn't seem to notice, or if she did, it only sharpened her resolve. Adversity, to her, was simply confirmation that she was on the right path.
For the past week, she had been making the rounds.
Every professor she could corner. The Head of House. Two deputy heads. At some point, apparently, the Headmaster himself. All in pursuit of official approval for a new student association.
A survival club.
The concept alone had been enough to raise eyebrows across the entire staff. The proposed curriculum sealed it.
What to do if you accidentally come into contact with an object that sends you back in time against your will.
How to react after an involuntary transmigration.
Key questions to ensure a stable and successful life following a major temporal displacement.
How to respond if an aggressive oni corners you in an elevator.
One had to admire the specificity, at least.
Predictably, the association was rejected. Then rejected again. And once more, for good measure, by Umbridge herself, who seemed to view the entire proposal as a personal affront. She prowled the corridors these days like an administrative parasite, pink cardigan and all, enforcing Ministerial oversight with the energy of someone who had finally been handed a leash and mistaken it for authority. The club never had a realistic chance of official approval.
It existed anyway. Just unofficially.
Mutsuko had even recruited a member.
A Hufflepuff girl named Kanako Orihara. Also Japanese, as it happened. Perpetually spaced out, as though a portion of her was always drifting a few steps behind the present moment, not distracted exactly, more like someone who had quietly decided that reality was optional and had made her peace with it. She spoke rarely, smiled often, and followed Mutsuko around with the calm, unquestioning loyalty of someone who had simply stopped asking where they were going.
Harriet found herself wondering, not for the first time, about the number of Japanese students at Hogwarts lately. It seemed like rather a lot. Since when? Cho Chang was Chinese, which was an entirely different thing, and aside from her, Harriet didn't recall the school being quite this concentrated. She filed the thought away. Probably nothing. Possibly something.
On a more practical front, she had been keeping in frequent contact with Yuna via her magical phone, a neat piece of arcane engineering that Yuna herself had brought to Gringotts on her first visit and promptly had enchanted into something functional. That was the thing about Yuna: she knew nothing about magic, had no frame of reference for any of it, and had still managed to identify the most useful moving parts within forty-eight hours. Indispensable was not a strong enough word.
The phone was working well. Reliable, discreet. She made a mental note to contact Furina at some point, probably after Yuna had finished her quiet tour of magical England and decided she wanted to dig beneath the surface of what was immediately visible. That felt like the right order of operations.
Hermione, as always, was buried somewhere inside her studies. Their friendship had loosened over the past year, not from conflict, but from the simple fact that their paths no longer aligned the way they once had. Something would happen between them eventually. Harriet could feel it the way you feel weather changing, not yet, but coming. For now, it was just the quiet before it.
As for Luna, she hadn't seen her at all lately.
Which was, perhaps, why she found herself turning her attention elsewhere.
To the Slytherins.
They had been circling her for two weeks. Not openly, not directly. Lingering looks, suspiciously consistent proximity, coincidences that didn't quite feel accidental. Harriet hadn't paid it much mind at first, finding a certain amusement in the game of it. But now she wanted answers. Information. Clarity.
Her target became obvious once classes ended: Daphne Greengrass.
Usually accompanied by Tracy Davis, the two of them stood apart from the rest of their House. Not Malfoy's followers, not insignificant either. Intelligent, observant, and cautious enough to avoid unnecessary risks. Harriet had chosen them for that reason. And, she admitted to herself without shame, because they were beautiful as well. No harm in combining business with pleasure.
Understanding one's opponents often began with choosing the right people to talk to.
That was how she ended up following them once they separated from the group.
She moved easily, almost casually, her presence sliding between blind spots and moments of inattention. Her stealth had become genuinely impressive, even without the invisibility cloak. The grimoire helped, of course. It was like playing a game where skills never degraded, where muscle memory, once earned, stayed sharp, and practice only refined it further. Except this wasn't a game. This was reality, and somehow that made it more satisfying.
When Daphne and Tracy finally found themselves alone, Harriet acted.
One moment they were walking. The next, hands closed around their arms, firm and precise, and before either of them could properly react they were being guided, almost politely, into an unused classroom. The door shut behind them with a soft click.
Harriet released them and stepped back, fully visible now, wearing a smug little smile that sat just shy of infuriating.
The room appeared to be an old music classroom, long abandoned. Dust clung to the corners, and a cracked stand lay forgotten near the wall. Harriet's eyes flicked around briefly, curious.
Why stop using a room like this? she wondered, distantly. Isn't music the greatest magic of all?
For the two girls who had just been taken, the experience followed a strange emotional progression. Fear came first, sharp and instinctive. But Slytherins didn't freeze for long. Living among vipers had a way of teaching adaptability.
And Daphne Greengrass was very much a real Slytherin.
Raised like a proper aristocrat, trained to navigate social circles with quiet precision, she recovered quickly. Calm followed fear. Then confusion. Then something closer to shock, though not necessarily in that order. Normally, this wasn't how things worked. Normally, one did not get abducted by the Girl-Who-Lived between classes.
Daphne's mind moved fast.
The idiots in her House had been sloppy. Sloppy enough to draw Potter's attention. From Potter's perspective, someone like Daphne, someone not openly aligned with Malfoy or the more extreme factions, would seem like a reasonable target. Someone likely to know things. That part made sense.
What didn't make sense was Tracy. And that expression.
Fear had faded by the time Harriet spoke.
"Easier than I thought," Harriet said lightly, leaning back against the door. "You're not very alert, are you, Greengrass?"
Daphne raised an eyebrow, her heartbeat already steadying.
"And what exactly would the savior of the magical world want with me?" she asked. "And why bring Tracy along? If I'm the one you're interested in, she has nothing to do with this."
As she spoke, she replayed the moment in her mind. She had been alert. She always was. But this hadn't felt like an attack, and it hadn't registered as magic either, which was precisely what had diminished her guard.
It had been too fast. Too smooth. Almost natural. Harriet's grip had carried a strange quality, not forceful, not rushed, just right. The kind of contact that didn't trigger alarms until it was already too late.
Like the way professionals moved.
That realization unsettled her more than the situation itself.
In truth, Harriet hadn't done anything consciously. She had simply acted. Another quiet proof of how much her instincts had evolved.
"Well," Harriet said, tilting her head slightly, "I have a few questions. You can probably guess what they're about."
She glanced at Tracy, who had yet to say a word.
"And Tracy, you're always with her anyway. I figured bringing you along might make things more comfortable. People tend to talk more when they're not alone."
She smiled, open and easy, and punctuated it with a wink.
"Relax. I don't plan on hurting you. Especially not pretty girls like you."
"And what obligation, exactly, do I have to tell you anything?" Daphne asked. Her tone was calm, almost bored. "We're not acquainted. I don't recall ever speaking to you. Unless you plan on using force, this conversation seems unnecessary."
"Your problems stay your problems, Miss Savior," Tracy added, already smiling. "We're not conspiring with those idiots against you. But that doesn't mean we owe you favors. And let's be honest, whatever you did to sneak up on us, you're not the type to actually cross a line."
Harriet let them talk. Let them settle.
"Maybe," she said at last. "But being a half-blood, Tracy, in the world that's coming, your name won't carry much weight if He wins."
The smile didn't fade. It collapsed.
Harriet didn't press the moment. She didn't need to.
"And you," she continued, turning to Daphne, "your family prides itself on staying neutral. That works, right up until neutrality stops being an option."
She shrugged, almost disinterested.
"When power changes hands, neutral families don't get rewarded. They get tolerated. Briefly."
Her gaze sharpened, just a fraction.
"And really, letting the Girl-Who-Lived get outplayed by a blond child who used to run crying to his father over bruised pride? Even if he's learned to hold his tongue, his nature hasn't changed. Only fools mistake restraint for growth."
Neither of them spoke.
They weren't afraid. They were recalibrating.
"If he doesn't concern you," Daphne said slowly, "why bother with us at all?"
Harriet smiled again. Smaller this time.
"Because I don't enjoy wasting information. And I'm not interested in dragging Malfoy into a corner and beating answers out of him."
She paused, glancing at the dusty walls of the classroom with a faintly amused expression.
"And because this felt more interesting. I didn't really think it through before doing it, honestly. But here we are."
Tracy exhaled softly, her gaze narrowing.
"So this is entertainment to you."
"No," Harriet corrected. "Curiosity."
A beat passed.
"With Him returning," Tracy said carefully, "we gain nothing from seeing you fall. Still, are you worth the effort? The rumors are one thing. The basilisk. The duel against the Dark Lord. But I've never seen proof."
Harriet laughed quietly.
"Then think of this as a demonstration."
Her wand was already in her hand.
"You've been trained. You don't survive Slytherin without learning how to stand alone."
She shifted into a stance that wasn't aggressive. Just ready.
Daphne and Tracy mirrored her without a word. No panic. No hesitation. The room didn't explode with magic. It tightened.
"Then please do, Miss Savior," said Tracy.