Sita Potter And I Guess This Is My Life Now

by AthenaAreia

Summary:

In any other world, Sita Potter would have liked to kick back and relax. Unfortunately, there's a murderer after her, there's the past life thing she's trying to get over, the government is incompetent, and being eleven isn't actually conducive to being an overpowered badass.

At least she's rich? Her friends say that's called a bright side or something.

OR:

SI in the body of a female harry, who is determined to make this everyone's problem. tom marvolo riddle will NOT be the cause of fallen grades.

Notes:

• For TiresiasTheBlindSeer (Ravenclaw_Peredhel).
• Inspired by [Restricted Work] by Ravenclaw_Peredhel, TiresiasTheBlindSeer (Ravenclaw_Peredhel) (Log in to access.)

it's been a while since i wrote a si fic. if you're one of the veterans going "but areia we never-" that's because i never posted said si fic. it's in the docs. anyway, this one made it out!! congratulate the fic!!!
warnings before we start: please don't ask me for updates. this is not a prewritten fic, it's for me, and i write the crack as i please. also real life is a bitch sometimes. next, FUCK CANON. idc about canon. i will do what i want. tags are subject to change because the plot has not even properly started being written yet, so obviously things WILL change. same for the warnings - rn there's nothing because i hope to keep this my happy, safe, lighthearted fic, but you never know when Lady Angst calls me again to be her humble priestess. as you do. lastly, if you agree with jkr's views, bye. really. the door is available, take it. you're not going to like this one anyway.

yes harry is a girl, yes the girl is a self-insert, yes her name is sita because i love og sita who is the literal best and anyone can fight me on this. i will crush you with fight leftover in my body.

have the small first chapter as a taste of what is to come. ;)

Chapter 1: Pilot

When I was first dropped into this world, I cried. I cried a whole lot. I was a screaming demonic shit goblin. That's kind of the first reaction upon finding out that you were the main character in, of all universes, the universe where said main character was fucked over all the time. 

Of course, I savoured my time with James and Lily, but at the same time fell asleep at the one time it was the worst idea ever and thus, became a resident of the Dursley household. Ew. They made me work, which, not cool, I am five years old; why am I cooking your breakfast, Petunia? 

The fun part – the headcanons were true, desi female Harry was a thing right now. Or maybe that was caused by my existence here? Yeah, let's not dwell on that. Damn, what I wouldn't give for a good paneer sabji right now. Maybe I should go to Southall – wait, was Southall Southall yet? It should be, right? I had no idea how long I would last without paneer. Ten years, I kept telling myself, and then I'd try my best to oust myself from this terrible environment. Being made to live so long without a single glass of buttermilk should be a hate crime. 

The sad part of living in the 1980s was, well, the 1980s. Skinny jeans, fast internet, reels, they were all lost to me. Some film masterpieces hadn't even been made yet. Very sad. My girl Taylor Swift? As of yet, unborn. Some of my favourite bops had not even been thought of yet, it was a crime, it was like the universe was out to get me, such terror, such horrors– 

"Miss Potter, are you listening?" 

"Huh? Uh, yeah," I answered. I was not, in fact, paying attention, but given my general circumstances, it could be excused. 

The teacher, however, had learned not to fall for my adorable face. "What is the answer to this then?" 

I looked at the board. "Twelve," I said, absolutely confident. 

It was a third grade sum. No matter how difficult I might have found math in the Before, third grade sums were not beyond my capacity. Why would she– oh right. I was in third grade. Again. That was my entire point of not paying attention in the first place. I could skip grades, if I wanted, however, that'd be boring. Sita Potter was not a child genius, just a kid who daydreamed too much and was competent enough to know answers. This ruse gave me more time to prepare and all. 

Once school ended, I went to my favourite spot of all time: the local library. 

"Good afternoon, Sita," Mrs. Svarozki greeted. 

"Hi, Mrs. Svarozki!" 

That was the librarian, and currently #1 adult. Instead of talking about how some things are not in your grade level, Miss Potter, she just let me pick and read whatever book I wanted after I was done with homework. And she always sneakily gave me fruits to eat on the walk back to Durzkaban as I was leaving.

I picked up a copy of 1984 (one of my all-time favourites, in both lifetimes) and kept my future journal ready. My memory was that of a goldfish, but self-awareness had increased, so keeping a journal to jot down every random thing I remembered from either the future or from Harry Potter canon (and even some fanon guesses) was the smartest idea. 

Two years, I counted. Or three. 

---

I looked at the letter in my head in glee, before hiding it. As soon as I inevitably got shoved in the cupboard, I turned on the flickering, weak light and traced over the letters. 

Miss S. Potter
Cupboard Under the Stairs,
Number 4, Privet Drive,
Little Whinging,
Surrey. 

One library trip – including a letter to Minnie McG herself – later, I had begun getting my affairs in order. Wow, that made me sound like a sickly old, rich Victorian lady. Anyway, I had things to do. I cuddled every one of Mrs. Figg's cats one by one, making sure I poured extra love, aced my end of the year exams, and then showed up to Mrs. Svarozki's door. Library. Whatever. 

"I think I'll be going to boarding school now," I told her. Mentally, I cringed that I was about to lie to my favourite human, but ugh, Statute of Secrecy. 

You have to remember, though, that she's a librarian. They have superpowers. She gave me a very specific look, before saying, "And why is that, young lady?" 

I gave my best shot at a lie (or, well, half-truth) yet: "My father enrolled me as a legacy when I was born," I shrugged. "Apparently, my dad's family has been sending their children there for decades."

Mrs. Svarozki smiled at me. "In that case, Miss Potter, I wish you luck."

She would so get along with Professor McGonagall. Speaking of, when she came to pick me up from the Dursleys, Petunia gave me the most scathing look known to man. Yeah, yeah, I'm going to get hell when I get back, old news. 

But this time, I, Sita unknown-for-now-middle-name Potter, will fight back. 

"Let me just get my things from my cupboard, Professor!" I chirped brightly. 

Shut up, girl, Petunia's face seemed to say. How about no? See, I prefer McGonagall to you over here, and her face is saying "go on". The woman followed me, and raised an eyebrow when she saw my name visibly carved in the wood of the cupboard, and the fact that it had the blanket I was dropped off here in, and some broken toys, and a couple books. 

She was smart enough to connect the dots. 

She apparated me to Diagon Alley, took me to a corner, and then immediately went about putting a minor glamour charm on me. 

"It is imperative that no one recognises you, as that would delay our work more than is necessary," McGonagall began instructing. I listened, because I'm obedient like that. Really, I am. "The Headmaster gave me your vault key, so I have taken the necessary amount of money, since going into the bank with a glamour charm is asking for trouble. Now, take out the shopping list – apart from a wand, you may choose wherever you want to go first." 

See? Efficient. I like this woman for a reason.

Chapter 2: I Meet My Emotional Support Lesbian Grandmas

Summary:

shopping, adoption, and a letter

Notes:

i am very, very happy at the lovely response to my random self-indulgent brain baby!! chapters from now on will get longer, i think, so enjoy that.
also, in relation to this chapter: don't just go with strangers randomly, kids. sita is going because she knows and trusts mcgonagall, but stranger danger and all so don't try this at home.

In the end, we went to buy the telescope first because I got visibly over excited at the possibility of getting a telescope! What? Stargazing is nice. Since the shops for brass scales and potions equipment were nearby, we took those next. I'd like to pat myself on the back for refraining from asking for a solid gold cauldron. 

(I did, however, stare at it longingly. Professor McGonagall caught me, obviously. 

"Gold cauldrons are only used for specific, high-risk and complicated potions, Miss Potter," she informed. "At least a good N.E.W.T. score in Potions is required." 

"I promise I'll study!" was my prompt response. I'm pretty sure she was holding back a smile. After all, I am a bastion of cuteness.)

"A trunk now would be useful, then your uniform," Professor McGonagall observed. Because Minerva McGonagall is awesome and always right, I followed her like a tiny duckling. 

So I got a standard trunk, and also my uniform. I was gradually getting more and more excited, because next we had books and bippity-boppity swish stick!  

"Add two robes for casual daywear in whatever colour she likes, Edith," Professor McGonagall told Mrs. Malkin.

I blinked. "That's not written?" 

"It is not. I imagine you wouldn't want to wear those."  

"I really wouldn't," I nodded, "Aunt Petunia has no real fashion sense." 

I am also very certain she muttered something like she hasn't any sense in general too, but you can never be sure. Anyway, I got the two robes – black and bright purple. 

After that, we went to get books. Professor McGonagall looked rather bemused at the pile my tiny self had managed to carry to her – first year set, a beginner's guide to the magical world, some books for general knowledge, and also a couple fictional novels. 

Holly and phoenix feather exploded the windows at first contact with me. Instead, I got an applewood and unicorn hair, with the other less cryptic comment of "a faithful wand that will guide me to make the right choices". Not sure if any of my choices are right per se, but whatever you say, old wand man. 

And then, Professor McGonagall took me to Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. 

Yes, you read that right. 

Minnie McG herself. Took me. For ice cream!! I'm never beating the cute allegations. We also made small talk – aka, she subtly tried to ask me how the Dursleys treated me, and I very openly and very cheerfully spoke of life in Durzkaban as if it was the most normal thing in the world. With every moment that passed, she looked more and more likely to go commit murder. I knew you loved me, Minnie. 

"Miss Potter," Minnie told me, "There are two things I will offer you now." 

Oh, she looks serious serious. There's definitely something important and not-canon-compliant waiting for me. But also, fuck canon compliant, I don't like that anyway. 

"I'm listening," I nodded fervently. 

"First of all, I believe you would benefit from a medical check-up. That, however, is only if you are willing." She paused, then took a breath. "Secondly, I have with me a trunk of things curated by your parents for you to have, in case something happened to them." She blinked rapidly, and I wondered if I should pass her a tissue. "I noticed it in your trust vault and thought you might appreciate it. We can, of course, put it back in if you're not ready." 

I stayed silent for a few minutes. That was… that was a bit to take in. This is not something Canon-Harry got straight up the bat: a proper token of remembrance, rather than the jumbled up and bit-by-bit given memories. And I? I wasn't sure how I'd react to it. 

But I wanted it. Damn, I wanted it. 

So I answered, "I think I'd like that trunk. Check-up first, though." 

Minnie smiled at me approvingly. "A wise decision." She held out her arm. "Come, then."

I grabbed, and then we ended up… in front of an apartment? That Minnie McG has a key to? Oh my– Am I in the apartment of the great queen herself? I gasped. 

"Poppy," Professor McGonagall called out, "There's a patient!" 

And then Madam Pomfrey came through. Yes, I can assure you, it's Poppy Pomfrey. 

She took me to a room, sat me down and told me I would get a routine check-up and then more thorough scans if something requiring those was revealed. I agreed, mostly in semi-shock and also because I trust these two with my life anyway. 

But. McGonagall and Pomfrey. Yes! My shipper heart rejoiced. It isn't a pipe dream, it's reality. And I ship it so, so hard. 

Right, so the check-up happened. Now, Minnie is trying her best to prevent homicide. Madam Pomfrey is full of righteous anger on my behalf, which, the care and affection of it all really got to me, to be honest. 

"Can I stay with you both instead?" I blurted out. 

"While I would prefer it immensely–" McGonagall began.

"Of course you can!" Pomfrey interrupted. "You should, actually." 

Minnie turned to her wife (there's wedding rings, okay, I'm not wrong), exasperated. "We can't just kidnap a child–" 

"Not only are her guardians unfit, she asked! That's definitely not kidnapping!" 

"I want her here and safe as much as you do–"

"Then let her be!" 

The two of them went silent for some time, staring at each other. There's some soulmate telepathy happening, I told myself.

Then, very softly, Madam Pomfrey adds, "I think we owe Euphemia – if not anyone else – this much, at least." 

Unheard of ever before lore? Yes. I will uncover it. I must. 

"Alright," McGonagall sighs, "I suppose we can hide her for a month while finding means to legally acquire guardianship." 

"And also get her curse scar checked out."

"There's a curse in her scar?!"  

I love these people. 10/10, would always recommend being adopted by them. I zoned out for the rest of the conversation (read: I was so tired I fell asleep). By the time I returned to the land of consciousness, dinner was ready. 

Depressingly, I realised that in this life, right now was the first time I was having dinner at the table with everyone else. Kind of sad how the blood relatives thought I was a burden and these people who'd known me for a day were ready to cook me dinner and adopt me. 

But hey! Grandmas! I love them. 

"Your pasta is really nice," I told Minnie. She gave me a second serving. Wow, I'd almost forgotten I could technically have those. 

Fuck you, Dursleys. 

Next order of business was the Trunk of Memories. I was excited, yet very, very scared. My fears weren't rational – I was constantly afraid of losing it, which would not happen if I was very careful, which I absolutely would be – but I could be given leeway due to the whole. General everything. 

The grandmas gave me privacy for it, which I didn't request but appreciate anyway. Some traits had passed over from the first life itself, like the fact that I didn't like crying in front of people. I knew I would start bawling at any moment, with the right nudge. 

Gingerly, as if it would break into a million pieces in a minute if I touched it wrong, I opened the trunk. I was immediately greeted with a letter – what is it with unreachable people we care about and emotional letters? 

Bambi, it began, 

If you're reading this (I hope not), then something really bad has happened to us. It's terrible, and I wish it's not true, but life in a war is like that, I guess. 

But I hope you're safe, happy and well-cared for. I hope you know we would move mountains for you. I hope you know, always, that you're loved. 

I don't know why I have this fear that you might not be, because all the precautions are in place, right? Sirius probably raised you, he and Remus raised you together. You probably play Quidditch with your friends on weekends. Maybe you go to Minnie's place for dinner from time to time, hell, maybe you've even stayed over. Even better, maybe this letter is pointless and you're sitting next to me, right now, reading this, and poking fun at how paranoid I was. 

(Also, Lily is with me right now, assuring me confidently that everything will be fine, that we'll be raising you, and also, to tell you that she loves you more than anything in the world, to the stars and beyond, and that nothing will ever change that. I have a feeling she considers I have a point, but does not want to admit I'm right.) 

And now, the scary part. Hopefully, I don't unload this on you in a letter, but if I do, then I'm really, really sorry. It's this: the burden of a legacy. My father sat me down and gave me the same lecture when I was a kid. 

The Potters, we're not just a name, we're a brand. We've got our sticky fingers in every sort of money that exists in the magical world, and a little bit beyond that, you know? It's daunting, probably, to realise that once you're old enough, you'll have to manage it. But people will help you – the first step is in your hands: to ask. 

I won't give you any vomit about acting according to your station or whatever, because we're better than that, I think. As far as I see it, do whatever you want as long as it doesn't harm anyone (including you!). Live life in the way that makes you happiest. Be kind to others. Don't repeat the mistakes of those who came before you. Make good friends. Never go bankrupt. 

(Seriously, pay attention to that last one. Otherwise, it would suck for you. Remus says it would take some pretty solid skills to go bankrupt with the amount of gold there is, but better safe than sorry.)

Anyway, just… be happy, okay? That's the best I want for you. 

Love you,
Dad. 

P.S.: We have an ongoing bet about your Hogwarts house. Remus says Ravenclaw, because you keep crawling towards Lily's research books. Sirius says Slytherin and I'm inclined to agree – do you know how many sweets you conned out of us? Lily thought the whole bet was ridiculous because you're not even two, but the minute you flew into the family cat on your toy broom, she put ten galleons on Gryffindor. 

P.P.S.: Baby-you is staring at me wide-eyed and demanding to be lifted up. I will oblige.

Notes:

sita: *exists*
pomfrey: ours now!
mcgonagall: dear the law-
pomfrey: fuck the law
sita; i love you

and yes, james potter would have 100% been a girldad, i will die on this hill.

thoughts on how she should approach the philosopher's stone + the horcruxes? my writing hasn't gotten there yet and i'm not sure how to go about it.

Chapter 3: I Get A Headstart On My Evil Plans

Summary:

summer, a crisis, and riddle.

Notes:

hi yeah i know updates seem kinda regular don't they? reason: we have a few prewritten chapters. i also reward myself by posting when i finish a new chapter ahead, but be warned that as soon as college starts again, i will have way less time to write and post. we have like a month of vacations left which i am making the most of BUT! i will inform you all when we, sadly, run out of the super fast writing stage. this is also an early warning - please don't ask me to update. look at me. i love updating and sharing the story with you all as soon as possible. but when it's not ready, it's just not ready, okay?
no, i haven't received a "please update" truly in my life as an ao3 writer. but i know people who have. and it is. extremely annoying. we're all excited but patience is a virtue <3

anyway!!!! on to less serious topics!!! like sita's first ever crisis.

Yeah, so I broke down crying. Loud ugly crying, with hiccups and everything, because above all, I am against the cinematic quiet sobbing. Also, this is the only crying I know. 

It does stop eventually. I folded the letter up carefully, and kept it in a corner of the trunk. That is something I will never part with. Then I wiped my tears, washed my face, and got ready to explore. The first thing I saw was a yellow polaroid camera with white lilies painted on it, next to a stack of photos. My parents. Their friends. Even my grandparents. I quickly moved on before I started crying again. 

There was jewellery. There was tons of jewellery: a majority of gold, a little bit of silver to spice it up, and a pearl headdress. Lots of sun and archery motifs, I wonder what that's about? It was specifically addressed for Sita Jasmine. All of it was… undoubtedly beautiful. Along with it, I picked up an array of handmade cloth, so beautifully crafted that I just knew I would be wearing it one way or the other. That was probably why the fabric was there, to be honest. I'd need to get it styled later, and if I wanted sarees once I was older, I'd also have to find someone for fall beading. 

There was a section with books that my mother annotated. Next to it were a couple notebooks titled The Marauder's Manual. I bet Minnie would regret giving this particular set of books to me, I thought with unnatural glee. 

Finally, there was one snitch. A tiny gold bead of a thing, that could easily run away and become difficult to see, which is the entire point. There's a piece of paper next to it, a piece of paper which has clearly been hastily ripped from a notebook (it isn't even the entire page), and yet the handwriting is perfect calligraphy. The kind of handwriting that takes years and years of practice or training. 

It says: Ravenclaw vs Slytherin, 1974 (first snitch Reggie ever caught). 

Oh. That's Sirius' handwriting. Only he would call Regulus Black 'Reggie' way back in 1974, and have it be part of some Potter family trunk. It occurs to me that rich purebloods probably did force their kids into cursive and calligraphy handwriting classes, and that it stuck. A habit of some sort. The first snitch small, seeker Regulus Black ever caught, and the snitch Sirius Black preserved even years after they graduated.

Black brothers, try not to make me cry, challenge level: impossible. 

I go back to the grandmas infecting as much cheer in my voice and general frame as possible. Dad wants me to be happy. I have to remember that. I have to honour that, at least, even if I can't be whatever spectre of the daughter they expected or even wanted. 

(Normal daughters don't remember an entire life before this, do they?)

"I've decided to name my cat Riddle." 

Minnie blinks. "Alright." 

One day, I will flap your unflappable exterior, grandma. I got a cat, because I've always wanted a cat, I love cats! Then I realised it was a grumpy tomcat who hated people and understood that I had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever: name it Riddle. 

Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord Voldemort? Eugh. Yuck. Out of fashion, overly dastardly. 

Riddle the tomcat? Soft. Meows. Decidedly in fashion, a normal amount of dastardly. 

Once I got tucked in for the night – Pomfrey was insistent, and I would never refuse her, no sir – I thought about how I didn't truly recall the scarce memories James Potter mentioned. But then, I couldn't recall a majority of my toddlerhood or infanthood, most kids wouldn't. 

I wasn't most kids and yet, perhaps I was. Even though I've lived before, even though I have logical reasoning and experience as a counter, I was still hurt and at first confused by the Dursley treatment, and still had reactions to Petunia's regular jabs about the colour of my skin. An adult who knew all about the Harry Potter plot would act accordingly, but me? I knew the answers, but I sat and let the unfinished puzzle pieces hurt me anyway. 

It was then that I realised – I may have lived another life, loved and fought and laughed, but Sita Potter had not. She developed like a normal child, if a little stunted due to abuse. And here we were, sharing a brain and a body, being one. I'd always thought Sita Potter, unknowingly, became me, and that in a different world, without me, things might have progressed differently. I stand by that, certainly, they would have. Maybe I got a single thing wrong there though. 

Maybe in this process of rebirth and development, I became Sita Potter instead. 

Well, I'd always believed in reincarnation, hadn't I? The idea wasn't so bad: new start, clean slate. I was physically and emotionally eleven anyway. Letting the ghost of a past life with its own mistakes and regrets have a hold over my new one was not like me. Sita Potter with a cheat sheet on life indeed. 

As I drifted off to sleep, I toyed with the idea of creating a bucket list. Riddle slowly began cuddling up to me. I knew you liked me, you little shit. 

---

I woke to the call of "Breakfast, everyone!" and was momentarily disoriented. Wasn't I supposed to make– wait, I'd left the Dursleys. 

I'd left the Dursleys!  

Somehow, the joy, the utter freedom of it caught up to me only now. I blame yesterday's exhaustion. When I was younger, when I had my (unfortunately very reoccurring) spells of not knowing any better, the Dursleys felt like an impossible, impenetrable prison. The kind I could never escape, not until I was either eighteen or thrown out. But I did get out: I got my Hogwarts letter, and my supplies, and Minerva McGonagall decided she'd rather risk a life of crime than send me back there. 

I loved her. 

"And how are my favourite criminals doing today?" I asked, feeling very chipper. 

"You're not a criminal if they haven't caught you," Madam Pomfrey replies, without missing a beat. 

Professor McGonagall only sighs. "Yes, Sita, we are well. How did you sleep?" 

"It was great! Who knew real beds are so soft?" Aaaand I'm seeing another homicide being prevented. They're both preventing it, to be honest, with remarkable self-control. "Anyway, what's for breakfast?" 

The two of them look at each other then back at me shiftily. What's this about? 

"Poppy and I were just talking, when we realised that they," they meaning the Dursleys, said with a considerable amount of scorn, "Would have never fed you even an inch of traditional Indian breakfast–" 

"–If they fed you at all–" Pomfrey cut in. 

"–And although I doubt you'd eat it everyday, we thought you might like to–"

Anything McGonagall was going to say next was cut off by me tackling her in a giant hug. These people knew me as an infant, vaguely, and had known me properly for a day, and still cared this much? Oh look, there's dust in my eyes. McGonagall gingerly patted my head and then led me to the table. 

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Sita Potter had parathas for the first time. Five parathas, to be specific. 

---

Life continued. For the rest of the summer, we lived as a blended family of two sapphic grandmas who were also coworkers, a wayward orphan with a dark secret, and a cat who hated people. 

We had meals together, I got roped in playing card games with them every evening after tea, and on one memorable occasion, the three of us donned muggle disguises and went to the cinema. There was also that day I asked to go shopping in non-magical London, and didn't even have to defend my case. They just agreed, took their coats, and led me. 

That felt weird. Nice, very nice, but also incredibly new, for me to get something I wanted immediately after asking. Interestingly, I had always gotten what I wanted after mentioning it once or twice in the previous life, but for Sita, this was a novelty. I blame the Dursleys. 

Regardless, I got myself some comfortable clothes (I was not wearing wizarding robes all day, they were a uniform and they would stay that way), a little bit of candy on Minnie's insistence (she was The Best), some cool rings, and a quaint notebook (bucket list, here I come). 

The rest of the time, I studied. Sounds boring? It most certainly was not. I'm studying magic from my magic books to go to my magic school. Where I will get good grades, come hell or high water. Moldyshort's ridiculous scheming will never, ever, ever make my grades drop. I refuse. 

Since, being Hogwarts teachers, they obviously had a library, I devoured that too. It never hurt to study ahead. And it never hurt to make sure I made records and beat one Tom Marvolo Riddle's grades. 

(Who was I if not fuelled by petty spite used as an undercurrent to control the parts of my life that I could?) 

I learned that Herbology was exceedingly difficult for me, that Defence was fun because magic + boom, Ancient Runes was the most interesting thing around, and that Arithmancy was math in disguise.  I may not like math but for grades? For grades I could become a mathematician if they wanted me to. Also, it really just went into algebra at the hardest by O.W.L. level and algebra I could do easily. 

Another fun little thing I learned: Hogwarts once had more classes. Yes, you heard that right. But funding was cut (apparently even magic schools have that), staffing became difficult, and some classes were deemed simply unnecessary. 

Like Magical Theory in the first two to three years. Basic healing. A guide to magical politics, as well as alchemy, at N.E.W.T. level only. Foreign languages. 

To me, all of these seemed important. Sure, I didn't like theory, but if I didn't have a base of it, surely actual magic in core classes became more difficult? Plus, first aid is basically a life skill. Why the fuck would you scrap that? Alchemy may not seem like a necessity, but it's fun, and alchemists are rare. Knowing wizarding politics would help us navigate the world as adults, and I remain firm in that knowing at least one foreign language is good for character development. 

And we're not looking at the real facts here: I want to study all of them. 

And the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s for them exist in the Ministry if you can self-study and aren't a coward. 

I say as much to my grandmas. Well, they don't know they're my grandmas yet, but I've taken to calling them that in my head. They looked at me oddly, then smiled, and said that sometimes, change had to be fought for. 

Naturally, to me, that is full permission to go on a quest to alert the press, the populace, and spark the calls for revolution. Surely, the future generation deserved only the best education we could offer?

(A voice in my head that sounds vaguely like Minnie, come to think of it, says this might be more of a long-term goal list item.)

Notes:

no, i doubt she's gonna go and tip the newspapers and start an educational revolution right now. she is eleven. but parts of her personality poke through, as we realise that she WANTS to start an educational revolution, and might do so a few years later *wink wink*.

poppy pomfrey: innocent until caught, baby.
minerva mcgonagall: *long suffering sigh*

Chapter 4: I Acquire My First Minions

Summary:

a train ride, a sorting, and a cousin.

Notes:

okay, fair warning beforehand: there will be no epic battle against voldemort. 1: i don't like action all that much, and 2: sita has better things to do in this au than fight a war. our educational revolution is more important okay. and also i just have fun giving my si random crises that have nothing to do with the prewritten notes of canon. keep her on her toes and all that.
enjoy!!

So turns out eleven year olds didn't have as much power in the realm of educational politics. Oh well, self-study it is. I'm sure I can get people on side and incorporate the new subjects in the future years. 

"You're sure you have everything?" Poppy asked one last time. 

"Yep!" I began listing, "Wand, clothes, books, telescope and potions sets, stationary, and Riddle." 

Minnie shoved my nutrition potions in my hand and I pouted at her. She was not moved. I sighed and put the potions in, knowing I would get a rather pointed stare at every mealtime from the Staff Table if they caught me skipping. While the potions were technically great, what with helping me with my stunted growth and immunity and all, they tasted horrible. But healer grandma was firm and I could not beat her supreme powers. Cat grandma supported her every time, which I personally considered slightly unfair. Also very biased. 

Nevertheless, into my trunk the potions went, and before I knew it, I was climbing onto the red train that led to Hogwarts. My first order of business upon entering Hogwarts Express was to find Neville Longbottom. 

Don't get me wrong, I love Hermione and the Weasleys. I'm definitely going to befriend them. Along with a lot more students. But… Neville. Adorable. And, if things went according to canon, that way I'd also be introduced to Hermione. 

He was surprisingly easy to find. I just looked into a compartment that had a single boy who was carefully holding a toad, with a trunk that said N.F.L. His initials did ring a bell with my past-life senses, hadn't past-me heard about this on the internet somewhere? Oh well. Not my problem. This one definitely just meant Neville Frank Longbottom. 

"Hi!" I said brightly, "Can I sit with you?" 

"Uh, o-okay," he squeaked. Yep, it's Neville. Damn, how shitty had his family been to him for him to be wary of a scrawny eleven year old?

"What's your name?" I asked, more gently than before. 

"N-Neville Longbottom," he answered. 

Bravo! I got the right one. 

I held out my hand. "Sita Potter." 

He took my hand. Neither of us shook it. He stared at me in awe. I smiled at him. It wasn't as awkward as it sounds (well… maybe a little). 

"You're my godsister," he said finally. 

Oh.

Oh. He wasn't in awe because of the famous thing, it was the other thing. Such marvelous coincidence, that us godsiblings would reunite like this…haha… 

"Yeah," I agreed, "I think you're obligated to be friends with me by that logic. That's it. You're my best friend now." 

He looked very bemused by my antics, but he wasn't running away screaming so I call it a win. We managed to make sure Trevor did not run away, though, so sadly no Hermione. 

I wasn't too sad about it. Neville and I were officially besties, and had had a riveting conversation on some fifty different topics. It is safe to say that I've had Neville for only seven hours but if something happened to him, I'd kill everyone in the castle and then myself. 

For the boat ride, we ended up with a guy who says his name is Theo Nott, who is clearly with his own bestie, Blaise Zabini. Not quite sure I remember them except vague memories of fanfic favourites? Or was it Draco who was a fanfic fav? 

I clapped loudest when Neville was sorted into Gryffindor. Go white boy go! And he's going to the tables with the hat on– No, white boy, not like that! 

Thankfully, he does return the hat. Soon, it is my turn, and the hat falls over my eyes. Of course it does. 

Hmm… There's clearly a lot going on here.  

Good evening, Sorting Hat, I greeted. 

Good evening, young lady! Now let me see… Plenty of loyalty and hard work, Helga would be pleased. But oh! Such thirst for knowledge too, for knowledge and power both. Great ambitions. Yet, in this life you seem to have taken quite a, ah, blunt approach to most things, haven't you? But uh– oh dear, let's not unpack that one. Next, lofty goals, lofty goals… so where to put you? 

Whichever can help me cause the most chaos without gaining any suspicion would be nice. And friends! I want friends. Also which house has the nicest parties? 

Well, at least the next seven years might be entertaining, especially if you're a… 

"GRYFFINDOR!" 

I knew it. I knew they had the best parties. What else would you get when you put all the kids with the least impulse control together? Not to mention, I get to sit next to my boy Neville! I give my best charming smile to Minnie, and then skip over to the lion table. 

The feast began, with me observing my housemates and starting introductory conversations. I had somewhat endeared myself to Hermione by making clever muggle literary references – while also loudly mentioning that nothing written about me was true, since I never met these people and the Killing Curse thing happened when I was a baby; hopefully, they'd get the hint – and was, of course, glued to my godbrother's side. 

The feast itself was… a little confusing for me. There were the things that I would naturally not eat, and the things that I might eat if I was sure about the ingredients and nothing seemed overtly obvious. That was when I met my saviour in the form of a girl sitting on my other side and wearing a peacock feather and flute pendant, who nudged very specific dishes in my direction and winked. All of them seemed fine enough for me.

It occurred to me that I would probably have to a, talk to a teacher or b, go to the kitchens later tomorrow and talk to the house-elves about dietary restrictions. I preferred the latter, since that way also established a rapport with the elves and therefore easier access to the kitchen for snacks. What? Snacks are great.

Dumbledore made his random speech yada yada, third floor corridor whatever, painful death, something something. Really, I'd already noted this plot down so it didn't matter anyway if I just. Refused to get involved. Forced the adults to do their job. Anyway! On to more fun topics, such us little firsties being shuffled to the Gryffindor tower. 

Rules were easy. Girls to dorm left, boys to dorm right, maximum five to a dorm (which meant we'd have just one dorm – our year was ridiculously small, turns out nobody wants to have kids in the middle of a war, go figure), be on time for lectures and meals, please negotiate shower timings instead of fighting over it (there's probably a story there), try not to lose house points stupidly. 

Other than that, we were just supposed to run wild apparently. Love that for us. 

Each of our trunks were already at the foot of the bed assigned to us. My bed, specifically, had a carving on the bedpost that read L.R.E. I wonder who that was. Must be someone interesting. 

"I'm Fay Dunbar," a tiny redhead introduces. "And you are?" 

Everyone else starts introducing themselves, in the specific order of – Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil (so that's who my saviour is!), Hermione Granger, and finally Sita Potter aka moi. As we all start arranging our things and getting ready for bed – three girls have already started writing home – Parvati nudges me and whispers, "Hey, can we talk?" 

I agree, because I want to thank her about the feast and also because I have a lofty goal (in the Hat's words) of making the entire year friends, starting specifically with making all the housemates in our year friends. And like every movement, it starts with a few. 

The two of us end up in a corner of the dorm, with moonlight framing my hair rather well, I'd like to say. Parvati fidgets with her fingers a little, before taking a deep breath. 

"We're cousins, so–"

"We are?" I ask, dumbfounded. 

Parvati looks at me, confused, "Why do you sound surprised?" 

My turn to fidget. Okay. Don't start crying, this is not my fault, I remind myself. I was deliberately kept away from any magical relations on Dumbles' orders. Still. What if she hated me now? What if she'd written me letters as a kid that never got a reply because I never got them and she thought I wanted nothing to do with my own family? 

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Not my fault, not my fault, not my fault.  

"I grew up with my mother's sister and her family. They didn't like me a lot." I confessed. This might be the first time I'm talking about it, to be honest, since McGonagall already knew and probably told her wife too. It's kind of sad, come to think of it. Maybe I need a little bit of therapy? Nah, I'm fine. "They hated magic too, so they thought that if they hated me enough and ignored my magic enough, it would just go away. So they never told me about the wizarding world, or even anything about my family beyond a stupid lie about how my parents died." 

Parvati had already grabbed my hands in a very strong grip by now. "That's awful," she gasped. 

"Mhm," I responded. "So I don't know a lot about how this world works – I'm still learning, actually – and I haven't gotten to the family tree yet. But I've always really wanted a family, so if you want me–" 

Whatever I would say next was cut off by Parvati tackling me in a giant hug. "Of course I do! We're family, remember?" 

I pretended my eyes weren't suspiciously damp. We both went back to our respective bunks, after she explained the genealogy of our connection. Apparently, my grandfather Fleamont had a brother who married Parvati and Padma Patil's grandmother. This also reminded me that I had another cousin in Slytherin, Daphne Greengrass, since her grandfather's sister or cousin or something was my grandmother. 

The last thing I promised myself before going to bed was that I am going to have so much fun while also maintaining my grades.

Notes:

sita: *repressed feelings about a bunch of things related to the reincarnation stuff*
the sorting hat: i'm not touching this with a ten foot pole.
.
sita, grabbing neville: mine now.

Chapter 5: Power of Friendship, Level 1

Summary:

elves, classes, friends and flying.

Notes:

i feel like the pace i'm going at is pretty fast. please tell me if it's too fast and i'll try to fix it. the thing is - if you've seen my other fics - my pace is usually fast. unless it's slowburn romance, at which point it does manage to be slow.

anyway, in terms of prewritten work, first year and it's corresponding arc (voldemort) is over. that's a cheer for us!! but we have some time to go before it's all up and published lmao.

anyway, enjoy sita's baby steps at boarding school! along with the first glimpses of me exploring desi culture a bit further (specifically the one i was raised with, since that's what i know best, and frankly there are TONS of different cultures even on the desi spectrum. this is not the only possibility for a desi harry there is.). if the end feels abrupt, it's because i had to cut it when it was getting too long.

The next morning, before breakfast even started, I naturally dragged Neville with me to the kitchens. Well, not just him, we also had Percy Weasley because we needed a Prefect to show us around and also Be Responsible™. 

"Hello!" I greeted them all brightly. My godbrother was glaring at me, clearly not being a morning person. I wasn't either, until I had some proper chai in me, but I wouldn't be mean to the elves. That was cruel. I had students to be mean to. 

… 

Okay, fine, I wasn't going to be mean to students either. 

The kitchens were immediately filled with enthusiastic chatter of the house elves. Wow, they were really nice. How could anyone hurt someone this nice? 

"I kind of came here to talk about dietary restrictions," I began. At that very moment, one of the house-elves stepped forward, parchment and quill already in hand. Percy did mention that there were a bunch of other kids at Hogwarts with dietary restrictions, and they were all served accordingly. 

"Okay, to start off, I'm vegetarian," I listed, "Then I also don't eat fig or honey at all, and I will find a calendar with the specific dates I won't eat any root vegetables either." 

"Little miss does not need to worry, us elves already be having the calendar, we do," the elf talking to me assured, "One of the older Potters had already given it before." 

There was some kind of emotion that I wasn't ready to unpack about that. This was a diet I'd based off my past life, since I never knew what the Potters did or didn't eat but… To know that it was the same as me? There was an odd feeling in my throat. 

The diet was not appreciated that much in the Dursley household. Whenever they made bacon or eggs or meat, anything like that really, Petunia expected me to have the leftovers. I decidedly refused. So she didn't feed me at all on those days. Sometimes, there were the vegetables Dudley didn't want to eat, so it was good for me. Other times, well… Petunia caught on quickly, and whenever she felt particularly vicious, made an entire meal of things she knew I wouldn't touch. Ever. 

A lot of people, I know, wouldn't agree with my method. Why give up food when I was already starving? But… The Dursleys had done too much. Taken too much. This world had too, just as much as them specifically. And if there were slivers of myself left for me, then I would grab it with both hands. I knew there were lines I would never cross, and now that meant Sita wouldn't cross those lines either. 

(I remember the story of a king, Shrenik Raja my then-mother had called him. He refused to break his vow on his deathbed, even when everyone knew breaking it would save his life. And if he could face death itself like that, then surely I could wait a few years before I knew I'd get out?) 

"Also, I'd be really happy if you could get me proper chai for breakfast every morning and a glass of buttermilk at lunch. Only if you want to, though, no pressure," I remembered to add. 

The elf noted it down too, bless him. 

Classes began and went smoothly for the most part. I sat with Neville, but then urged him to expand his circle just like I was going to. So I watched like a proud mama bear as he befriended his dorm-mates enough to sit with them occasionally, as I did with my own. Then there was that one time during a Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Transfiguration lecture Parvati threw me to sit next to Padma and sat next to Neville herself. 

As friendships began progressing (and my cousins became the best ever), I started switching up a bit more. It started with sitting next to Seamus Finnegan and both of us accidentally setting a pillow on fire. Thankfully, Flitwick was nice enough to not do anything beyond telling us to be more careful next time. Awesome guy, Flitwick. 

Soon, the first-year Gryffindors started rotating around each other, if only because I – and now my pupils Neville and Parvati – kept bouncing around and switching partners every lecture. I taught them well, huh? It led to some rapport. 

Alongside classes, I had already begun my first extra study, which was not really an extra. The Potters' mother tongue was Sanskrit, and like every old pureblood family, their specific family history or certain spells and charms and secrets etc passed down through generations were all written in their mother tongue. Every Potter was raised learning Sanskrit, and were fluent – except me, who was raised by the Dursleys. Petunia would sooner mock my dark skin than teach me my mother tongue. 

I'd always wanted to learn it anyway. Besides, this way there were so many books I could read without any hindrance of translation. 

The great part was I already knew the prayers and some of the hymns, so I did not have to wait to learn enough of the language to be able to pray. In fact, I'd go to say I had been subconsciously praying even back in Privet Drive, out of habit if nothing else. 

Snape didn't even look at me! Well, there were those couple questions he asked in the first class, but after I'd answered them perfectly and then brewed a perfect potion, and by partnering Neville with Hermione, had also made sure he wouldn't have as bad a disaster, he had nothing to pick at me for. Instead, he ignored me. I liked that arrangement much better than canon-Harry bullying. 

I had settled in and everything was going well. No big problems, no mishaps, no bullying… It was calm. The Gryffindor firsties were also starting to tentatively become closer as a proper group. It was wonderful. 

And then the fire nation attacked. 

Wait, I meant flying class. Right. That. 

I zoned out for most of flying class, until Neville fell on the ground and sprained his wrist – I felt pretty bad about not paying attention to that happening, maybe I'll give him some sweets in the hospital wing. Poppy would let me in, right? She'd basically adopted me. 

"Looks like Longbottom dropped this," Draco Malfoy began and oh god this.  

"Give it back, Malfoy!" Ron said. Hermione nodded. They're friends now, I'm so proud of them. Okay, I might have something to do with speeding the friendship along without the need of a troll, but we don't pay attention to that. 

"Or what, you and your merry band of blood-traitors and mud–" 

"Get a life," I interrupted smoothly, and also with the utmost tiredness. "Seriously, don't you have better insults? Shouldn't Slytherins be, oh I don't know, smarter or more creative? You keep spitting out the same thing again and again, it gets tiring." 

"I–" 

"And I bet the next thing you were going to do was make a remark about someone's financial situation, which is pathetic."  

"How dare you–" 

"Of course I dare!" I almost yelled, "Mocking someone for not having the privileges you do is whiny, bratty and most of all, stupid." 

In the time that Draco and I were having a fight – well, I was screaming at him and he was trying to get a word in and failing – my lovely cousin Parvati had snatched the Remembrall from him. 

Pansy tried to jump and tackle her. Lavender Brown, who was secretly ruthless, let me tell you, simply put a leg out, let her trip onto the muddy grass, and walked away innocently as if she'd done nothing wrong. I am never getting on her bad side, ever. 

Anyway, the lecture ended without any too bad inter-house incidents. Still, it was a Friday, and we had the weekend off, which is great. Lectures on Saturdays started third year onward, but these two years we could enjoy blissful holidays. 

Naturally, our merry band of firstie lions (Ron, Dean, Seamus, Parvati, Lavender, Fay, Hermione and I – I'm not lying when I said we made them all befriend each other) went to the hospital wing to visit our final member, my darling godbrother. 

Parvati returned his Remembrall, and he thanked her through some stuttering. And a blush, weirdly. Interesting. We sat around his bed and talked and played cards for a bit, before Poppy Pomfrey herded us out with strong words about giving her patient some rest. 

It was still a good day.

Notes:

sita: i am going to be nice to all of you and coo and call you all adorable
draco malfoy: hey weasel-
sita: i changed my mind. attack!

Chapter 6: I Have A Minor Breakdown (ft. Robert <3)

Summary:

robert <3

Notes:

trust me, i wasn't lying in the tags when i said i have fun giving sita different crises. honestly, this is definitely up there in my fav chapters for this fic. you'll see why soon.

Neville healed pretty quickly, and by the next day, all us lion cubs were sitting in an abandoned classroom that Hermione found and roped everyone into cleaning. Dean and Lavender bonded over their shared need to have perfect decorations. Ron and I bonded over our shared need to have a soft sofa. I convinced Hermione to get us three bean bags just because. It was our official hideout. I'm pretty sure Parvati and Fay are going to label it any day now. 

"Hey, Sita, how do you manage all the practical spells so fast?" Fay asked. 

"Trade secret," I replied on instinct, because I'd been asked this a lot. Truly. A lot. 

"Come on," Neville wheedled, "You'll refuse your own godbrother? Who was forced into separation from you for ten long and brutal years? Who, might I add, was just recently hurt?" 

"Are you… guilting me?" 

"Yes," Seamus replies in his stead, unabashedly. 

"You're going to refuse help to the diklectic guy?" Ron fuels the fire. 

"Dyslexic," Hermione corrects on instinct. 

"What she said," Ron nods to her. 

That had been, well, not quite a surprise because a dyslexic Ron Weasley made way more sense. We know he's smart. He knows he's smart. He looks up to his smart brothers. Ergo, by all means, he should want to study, except he doesn't, and now that I think about it, it might just be the lack of proper tools to help him along. 

Also, watching all the wizards with zero muggle world ideas be baffled by modern diagnosis and healthcare is so funny. These people can make stuff fly and explode with a stick but apparently no one has a therapist or psychologist? Didn't the previous generation go through a war? Did none of them get treated for, oh you know, fucking PTSD? When I rant to Percy Weasley about it – who just sighed at my presence and gave me the gesture to go ahead – he confirmed that no, nobody got therapy. 

No wonder it was so messed up here. 

Facing the combined earnest stares of all my friends, I broke. "I manifest it," I confessed. 

They looked at me, confused.

I explained further. "In my head, I pretend that the final result has already happened and then I start casting." 

"What." Seamus said.

"Of course you do," Ron sighed. 

"That's not supposed to be possible!" Hermione insisted. 

"Well, my match turned into a needle first, didn't it?" I countered.

"She's got you there," thank you, Parvati, I knew you were my favourite for a reason. "Cheer up, you can still beat her at Herbology," nevermind. Traitor. 

See, Herbology went a little bit like this: my plants kept dying. Constantly. Every time. It didn't matter if I was paired with Ron or Susan "green-thumb" Bones or Hermione's inevitable smarts or Neville "Herbology prodigy" Longbottom. My plants just… died. Professor Sprout's endless patience was my only boon. 

Monday was the worst because not only was it Monday, it started with Herbology or as I like to call it, The Class Of Disappointment And Failure. 

Today, I was paired with Hermione, even though technically everyone had individual plants. Her plant was doing great. Mine was obviously not. 

"No, no, no," I whispered desperately, "One alive plant, that's all I'm asking." 

The plant started wilting. 

I need you to know this first: I get weird under pressure. Really weird. And right now I was under the weight of the world as I tried to keep this plant alive. 

"I've done everything I could for you," I began monologuing. Hermione looked at me with narrowed eyes. "I raised and clothed and fed you, and this is how you repay me? By dying? After I begged you not to do it? Doing the one single thing I didn't want you to?"

"Sita, it's a plant," Dean was saying before he got shushed by Seamus. 

The explosion boy in question further explained, "I need to see how this goes." 

Parvati glared at them all. "Stop making fun of my poor cousin's pain!" She started rubbing soothing circles on my arm, which felt nice, actually. 

"His name was Robert," I continued, determined. 

"Doesn't she name every plant Robert?" Susan Bones asked her partner today, Fay, who nodded. 

"Well, maybe if they stopped dying, I'd give them a different name!" I argued, just a tad hysterically. Just a touch, really.

"There's nothing wrong with Robert," Hermione comforted. 

I couldn't help it. I began crying. Yes, you read that right, I started crying in front of the entire class of Gryffindor-Hufflepuff first years and Professor Sprout because my plant died for the sixth time. 

"I'm terrible at Herbology and all my plants keep dying and I'll fail my O.W.L.s like this because that's what I do apparently!" I cried, "I fail!" 

"Oh," Ron nodded sagely, "It's one of those days."

I had no idea what he meant by that, except Professor Sprout was looking at me unsure how to deal with this trainwreck – understandable, I respect it – the Hufflepuffs were a little confused and one of them (Hannah?) passed along a small toffee for me, and my lion cubs were all trying to comfort me in their own ways. 

Then Hermione struck intelligence gold, as you do. 

"We'll mourn him!" she said, "We'll all mourn Robert." 

"We will?" I asked hopefully. 

"We will?" Ron asked, confused. 

"We will!" Neville agreed enthusiastically. 

Thus, lunch was a rather solemn affair. There was none of the usual rowdy laughing or jokes, at least on our end of the table. Seamus had given me his mum's handkerchief that he'd stolen from home for me to dab my eyes, the sweet boy. Parvati was piling food onto my plate, trying to make me eat better. Lavender held me tight and poured my nutrition potions down my throat. Dean and Fay had managed to procure black wristbands for us all, which we were all wearing while observing silence during the meal. 

McGonagall's "Something Is Wrong" senses began tingling. I'm pretty sure my father was responsible for their creation. 

"What seems to be the matter here?" she asked. 

"We're in mourning." Hermione informed. 

"In mourning," Minnie repeated delicately. "For who, exactly?" 

"Robert," Ron piped up from where he was eating grapes. 

"Robert?" 

"Sita's dead plant," Fay elaborated, and then immediately winced when I was once again on the verge of sobbing. Neville began rubbing circles on my back. 

Professor McGonagall quickly backed away, rapidly paling, muttering something about bloody Effie Green–  

I wonder what that's about. 

Listen, it wasn't just the dead plant. It was the fact that everything was new and different and I may have gotten used to it, but maybe it didn't really get to me, you know? I was in boarding school, a guy possessed by Voldemort was teaching me with the oppressive smell of garlic of all things, the staircases kept moving at any time, Draco fucking Malfoy bragged and preened about getting sweets from his mother specifically to two people (Neville and I) whose mothers were physically incapable to send this stuff, and now my plant was dead. 

And if I didn't fix stuff, a whole lot more people would be dead, not to mention the already-dead Potters. 

The orphan thing wasn't working out for me that well, I guess. 

But hey! Baby's first menty b in this brand new world! That's worth a photograph in my scrapbook, right? I was going to make a scrapbook of stuff my favourite wolf-uncle and dogfather had missed and send it to them as a gift, and this one was a perfect addition. See? Optimism. 

Parvati's look reminded me she knew exactly where my thoughts were going and that this wasn't something to be applauded. Whatever. I focused on my bhindi sabji, the elves had really outdone themselves with this one. 

And that is how life continued. I went to classes. Ate food. Learned my mother tongue. Ignored the troll. 

Yeah, the last one is true. There was no one that I heard of in the girls' toilets, so I thought that particular timeline would be avoided. Hermione and Ron were already besties anyway. 

Later, via the wonder that is the Hogwarts rumour mill, we learned that some older student said something, Daphne Greengrass was in the toilets crying that day, and Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott ran after her. 

What did they say? History does not repeat itself, but it does often rhyme. That's one hell of a rhyme. 

Also, isn't Daphne my cousin? I should probably go to her later. Check if she's okay. That sort of stuff. Cousins did that, right? I asked Parvati about it and she just looked at me exasperatedly, before nodding that yes, Sita, cousins do that. She also advised me to take Padma with me, because Slytherins were just that distrusting, and Padma and Daphne were already friends. 

Nobody knew it yet, but this incident would fuel Phase 2 of the Friendship Plan: the lions and the snakes.

Notes:

sita: i am going to ace these subjects
herbology: try me babes

(also, no, james wasn't the cause, but the answer to that's for some lore that will be unlocked later.)

Chapter 7: The Power of Friendship, Level 2

Summary:

friendship is so beautiful, isn't it?

Notes:

and now!! the snakes!!! and also a few others!!! and penguins!!!

My lion babies looked at the three newest members of our group. 

"They're snakes," Ron sputtered. 

I frowned in his direction. "They're human children just like you who happen to be in a different house. Do you really think I'd befriend someone evil?" 

"Well, no, but–" 

"No buts!" I clicked my tongue disapprovingly. "Discrimination is the first step towards alienation and conflict." 

I could see that Ron wasn't happy, but faced with the combined glares of a majority of the group, he folded. We'd talk about this later. Besides, who knows, maybe he will befriend them soon enough and learn that making assumptions based on school houses is stupid. 

Blaise Zabini gave me an appraising look. Wow, the standards must be really low if me teaching eleven year olds not to discriminate on the basis of the colour of your tie is impressive. 

"What do you even do here?" Daphne asked. Despite being the one who is actually my cousin, she was the most wary. Theo Nott basically jumped at the opportunity – we would be chaos makers together, I was sure – and Blaise followed, while Daphne weighed her options a few minutes longer but ultimately gave in. 

"Make dastardly plots for world domination that no one suspects us of," Dean deadpanned. 

"Are you serious? I hope you're not serious. Not that I would be angry if you were but, you know," Theo gestured vaguely. 

"It's always good to make sure there aren't any more insane dark lords or ladies," I chirped, "The last one had no style. Lowkey pathetic, if you ask me." 

Ron blinked, stupefied once again by my audacity. See? I knew he would come around. All I had to do was continue being myself. 

"Mate, did you call You-Know-Who pathetic?" 

"It is what it is," I sighed. 

"You get used to it." Parvati stage whispered to the Slytherins, who had indeed lost some footing when I said what I did. Eh, they'll get desensitized to my habit of mouthing off about dark lords soon enough. 

Slowly, the prejudice lessened. Everyone helped each other out with homework, and Ron met his chess match in Daphne. It was going very smoothly. Winter holidays were coming soon, and some of us planned to stay at Hogwarts, me included. So! 

"You know what we should do?" I asked the room. 

Three identical groans in the first second of my words being processed. Wow. I really made an impression, huh? 

"Ignore them, I'll help," Theo volunteered. Thank you, this is why I love you deeply. 

"We'll find the Weasley Twins and get them to help us enchant snowballs to constantly hit the back of Professor Quirrell's turban," I inform. Yes, this is out of a purely selfish desire to see Voldemort's secret face be pelted by snowballs in the most undignified manner possible. 

Hermione gasped, scandalised, "He's a teacher!"  

I shrugged. "He taught me a grand total of nothing." 

"Let her cook," Seamus supported me. They had picked up on some of my lingo, but a majority of the time, used it wrong. Not this time, though. 

(In the corner, Blaise can be heard whispering to Daphne, "Nobody is cooking anything right now?") 

I knew just where to get my favourite bookworm. "Which means he's a teacher despite being unqualified for it and thereby affecting our education. Think of the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students who have to study under him, Hermione." 

Lavender nodded emphatically. I'm pretty sure she didn't really support me so much as she wanted snowballs thrown on the back of someone's head. Oh well. Support is support and all that. Everybody agreed eventually, and that incident was my Christmas present to myself. Everyone else? I was stumped. 

Naturally, I went to the most obvious person. 

"Miss Potter," Minnie greeted, "What brings you here?"

Perfectly professional, yes, but I could see the way her eyes ran a once-over at me to make sure I was unhurt, and how her smile got just that bit wider. 

"Christmas break is coming soon," I pointed out. 

Minni had a look of– was it regret? "You understand that Poppy and I must stay at the castle over such breaks as well, and would not be able to, well." 

I paused. It was kind of touching, really, that she thought of my living arrangements. It was almost as if she wanted to spend Christmas with me. Fancy that. Plus, if she and Pomfrey conveniently took a break for the first time in probably forever, it might even look suspicious and the last thing we needed was suspicious. I liked my surprise adoption status.

"I wouldn't ask that of you, that's risky for you both," I admitted, "But I am here for advice." 

"Advice, Miss Potter?" 

"Christmas presents?" I asked weakly, "What do you give them?" 

"Have a biscuit, Sita." 

I did as I was told and had the biscuit. And another. And another. All the while, the two of us brainstormed and plotted what my friends would like. It was weird… but not the bad kind, I surmised. In my past life, I hadn't done a lot of gift-giving, in part because I never had this many friends at once. But now I did and I'd be damned if even one of them was disappointed. 

Also, owl-order forms were a thing! Which meant I could do my shopping without leaving the comfort of my room, simply via catalogues. Highly convenient, if you were to ask me. 

The Weasleys were staying over for Christmas, as per canon. Fay, Lavender, Seamus, Dean, and Hermione all went to celebrate with their families, which makes sense (and no, I did not feel a slight twitch of envy). Parvati and Padma had talked to their parents, and decided to stay over for me, due to which I naturally hugged them within an inch of their lives and cried a little. 

Seriously, I need to stop breaking down and crying once every two months. 

Daphne, Theo and Blaise were all expected back not only to celebrate, but also because their presence was required at a literal ball. Theo whined about it a lot until Fay got fed up and stuffed his mouth with a whole orange. He locked eye contact with her, started chewing it and ate it – peel and seeds and all. What a guy. 

Neville tried to recreate it. He failed. 

I begged Daphne to get me pictures of her dress. She sniffed haughtily, but ultimately had mercy on my soul. 

This, incidentally, is why Parvati, Padma, Neville and I all found ourselves sitting with the Weasleys as Christmas break began. I took it a little further, because Sita Potter is nothing if not determined. 

"Professor, there's so few of us," I began, having picked out my victim in the form of Professor Flitwick, who already liked me and would also like this idea. "Surely, house seating can be put to the side? Everyone at one table, true student unity and all, I think it would be great!" 

"It would!" he squeaks excitedly, "It is Christmas after all!" 

Mission accomplished. Now, how to make sure everyone on the table got along… 

Oh I know! Regular insanity, my most effective weapon. Other than the cuteness, of course. 

Cassius Warrington from Slytherin looked at me, scrutinising. 

"Do you know penguins mate for life?" 

From the head table, Madam Pomfrey could be heard sighing, "Again with the penguins." 

Hey, it isn't my fault they're adorable and funny and I was once obsessed with Pingu as a child in my past life! Penguins are great. Everything about them is cuter than even me. My conversation partners do not agree, but I will convince them otherwise. 

(The Spongebob voice narrates "Two hours later".)

"...And then they collect rocks, you know, to give–" 

Penelope Clearwater bangs her head on the table. Percy Weasley runs a soothing hand over her hair – hmm, isn't she supposed to be maybe dating him or something? I'll keep an eye on that – while sighing for the fiftieth time. The members of my friend group seem unbothered, apparently used to it. Neville has already begun doing his homework, using my rant on the wonderful penguins as background noise, which shows how used to it he's gotten. 

And that is how everyone on the dining table bonds. In the words of Gred and Forge, 'you unlock a lifelong bond when you sit together and hear Sita Potter rant'. And how true it was, because Cassius Warrington and Ron were exchanging food now. 

Snape had just left the Great Hall twenty minutes into my yap. Simple, yet effective. On the other hand, Flitwick was listening to my rant with the utmost attention. I adored him. 

Eventually, lunch was over, and Parvati and Neville physically dragged me away from my new friend Cassius (no, he didn't have a choice in this role). 

"We should do this again sometime!" I yelled. 

"Oh Merlin, no," someone said, but that just might be my imagination. I'm going to ignore it anyway. 

And then the morning of Christmas dawned.

Notes:

*anyone ever not getting along*
sita: SLIGHTLY insane babbling commences

Chapter 8: A Sirius Situation

Summary:

christmas gifts galore

Notes:

this chapter's especially for tiresias who wanted a solar dynasty rant. here you go bestie.

I immediately put on my Molly Weasley special sweater – knitted in a lovely amber, with a huge 'S', very soft and comfy. This would be among my new favourite outfits. 

I was guessing, from the enthusiastic hugs I got, that my gifts were appreciated. I hoped so. I wanted my friends to be happy.

Neville got a book on carnivorous plants, Hermione got the oldest edition of Hogwarts: A History that I could get my hands on, Dean got football memorabilia, Seamus and Ron were both obsessed with Quidditch stuff (posters, gloves, books) so that, Fay got a copy of Alice in Wonderland since she was interested in muggle fiction, Lavender got the winter cloak she wanted, Parvati got a set of oxidised jewellery, Padma got a set of three embroidered gloves, Daphne got an elegant hair-comb with laurel motifs, Blaise got his muggle leather jacket, and Theo got A Beginner's Guide To Alchemy. I gathered my Gryffindor courage and got Minnie and Poppy matching mugs that said 'BEST GRANDMAS'. Minnie's had a cat in heist gear, while Poppy's featured a nurse with a rifle. 

Also, I sent Dumbledore a pair of woolen socks for the bit.

Most of my friends had all given me an abundant supply of sugar quills (my most favourite magical sweet, some people were shocked but ultimately understanding of my dislike of chocolate frogs because froggy! I shall not eat froggy!), along with the occasional bit of jewellery. I was pretty easy to shop for, huh. 

Sugar quills, ornaments, and books. A majority of my gifts were a variation of the same, and I couldn't be happier. 

Parvati and Padma had a second gift for me, which they explained was technically from the entire Patil family. They'd done some digging in their archives, called in some favours, and lo and behold, a beautiful and enchanted version of the Potter family tree was in my hands. I was so enthralled by it I kind of forgot about the Invisibility Cloak, until I was reminded of that unmarked present. 

In my defense, I hadn't expected this. Sure, even in the trunk Minnie had given me, there were the sun motifs and bow and arrow symbols here or there, but this?  

It said, very openly, 'of the line of Ikshvaku'. The part of me that revels in connections like this was squealing, because this line was also known as the Solar Dynasty, an ancestry which the Potters had apparently gotten a proper genealogical claim to. As I traced further and further back, I realised that yeah, this claim might have merit. It started straight from Manu himself, and stretched till me.

See, I'd done my research in the previous life. Since all the sources were often so vague, plus all the wars and invasions openly came at the cost of knowledge that was hidden or stolen or straight up burned (I will never be over the Nalanda Library in any life), this meant that by the later time periods, a huge bunch of dynasties just decided to be descended from legendary and important dynasties. This, they surmised, would give them legitimacy and political clout, and yeah, that made sense. But it made it so fucking confusing to figure out which ones were lying and which one genuinely did have that ancestry. 

But as far as I know, the Potters never openly boasted about this. Or else my friends, at the very least, would know. Even on this family tree, the word Suryavamshi (which was the more popular name to use for the clout) was nowhere to be seen. And there was nothing over here, no suspicious dates or made-up names, that might make me think this was a lie. I'd go through the Potter Archives when I could just to make sure, though. 

I tugged at Neville's sleeve. "Hey look, my namesake is here!" 

And so she was. One of the coolest queens ever was sitting innocently on the family tree, labelled as 'Queen Janaki', with the marriage line connecting her to 'King Ramachandra'.  

Finally, I folded up the family tree very, very gently and placed it in my trunk later. This was now one of my most prized possessions, and nothing would harm it on my watch. 

After that, we all went to play in the snow. No, I did not suggest it specifically to see Professor Quirrellmort's turban be pelted by snowballs, how could you think that? Our snowball fight was very, very fair and any attempt to hit a professor would not stand, no sir! 

Then, one day, I sidled up to Percy Weasley – who had by now gotten used to the fact that I would include him somehow no matter what – and asked him to practice the animagus reveal or whatever spell on our pets, just for fun, you know? No ulterior motive. Trevor the toad and Riddle the cat were both safe (Riddle also hissed at me in anger at being a guinea pig, sorry baby, some things need to be done). 

Scabbers, though… Scabbers was immediately taken to McGonagall. Who did the same spell about three times. Then called Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE. 

"Tell Susan we're sorry for ruining Christmas!" I said in lieu of a greeting. 

"Stand back, children," she replied. 

So! 

There was once a rat named Scabbers,
Who was actually Peter Pettigrew. 
He was an ugly piece of shit traitor. 
When they turned him human, he tried to fight. When he tried to fight, he got knocked out in seconds. 
Lo and behold our great heroines, 
One Madam Amelia Bones,
And of course lovely Minnie McGonagall,
Both of whom were the most badass of all. 

That was definitely not the correct format, but it explains the whole situation very well. Enough amount of description, straight to the point for the plot, lovely execution, I say. 

"Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool," Ron was muttering. I patted his head in a there-there motion, but I had to tiptoe because he was taller than my tiny self. The minute I get my hands on heels, it is over for these people. Alas, until then, I must resign myself to this. 

Percy looked like he wanted to vomit. I didn't blame him. 

"But if that's Pettigrew, then–" 

"In all fairness, Amelia, any of us who knew them had trouble believing Si– Black could do that," Professor Minnie stated. She seemed put-together, but I could see by the slight pursing of her lips that she was probably as shaken as everyone else. 

"If you are right, Professor," Madam Bones sighed, "Then we let an innocent man rot in prison for ten years." 

"You could always look through trial transcripts, right? Or is wizard court different from non-magical court?" I asked innocently. Of course, I knew where this would lead for them. The adults paled, remembering that there are no trial transcripts. 

Sirius Black never got a trial, did he? 

The next morning, Rita Skeeter very beautifully informed the public about how Pettigrew was found, as well as the three-way argument about getting dogfather a trial between Madam Bones, the Minister, and Dumbledore, the last of whom was just cheerfully butting in to add fuel to the fire. 

The date for Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew's trial was set for 30th December, 1991, specifically during the Wizengamot's last monthly session of the year. Until then, the rat was kept in an anti-animagus cage, and Black was taken to a holding cell instead. 

I ran to Madam Pomfrey about being present at the trial after 'coincidentally' finding out about the whole affair from one of my friends, talking about getting closure and stuff. It worked, partly because I did want the closure, even if I knew the truth from the beginning. 

Also, the Dursleys had definitely stunted my development. That was a thing, which the school healer knew about. 

At first, the Headmaster disagreed, because I was 'too young' for this. Fuck you too, old man. Then, paying attention to the fact that Dumbledore and Poppy (who adored me to death) were both in the room, as well as my head of house Minnie (who also loved me very much), I brought out the crocodile tears. 

Minnie and Poppy glared at Dumbledore. I was granted permission to go to the trial, with a chaperone, our very own Professor McGonagall. 

"I've never seen a Wizengamot trial before," Ron said through mouthfuls of peas. 

"I'll tell you all about it," I promised. 

"Here," Parvati pushed a package towards me, "Ammi made you Mysorepak." 

I ate it with fervour, because my sweet tooth can never be stopped. "I love her so much." 

"I know," Padma nodded. 

As I finished my food, I heard a slight clearing of someone's throat behind me, only to see Minnie standing there. 

"It is time, Miss Potter."

"Goodbye, my fellow peanuts!" I waved off. 

"That's a new one," Clearwater whispered to Warrington. 

"I am not a–" 

And then we were off to see my dogfather hopefully be free from the shackles of unfair imprisonment. Upon entering the Ministry, I saw that godawful gold statue, and made a gagging gesture about it to Minnie. Her lips twitched upward in a smile. 

The Wizengamot chambers were both huge and also filled to the brim with old people. Seriously, shouldn't some of them be enjoying retirement? 

"Hem, hem." 

And the pink toad was here. Fuck. 

I stuck to Minnie's side as they began questioning Pettigrew with Veritaserum first. He folded in seconds and confessed everything, because truth serum you know? With every answer that passed his lips, Minnie's protective grip on me tightened further and she paled more and more. That made sense. This was her two of her students' pet for years, had slept in the dorms with them for at least five years (a huge yuck for that), and kids had been in danger from him for so long. 

Fudge, spineless fool that he was, sputtered and demanded Sirius also be questioned with Veritaserum. I hid my smile, knowing for sure that this just sealed his innocence. 

He was declared innocent. The Ministry would pay him a bunch of money in recompense as if that would fix anything, but oh well, money is money. He'd technically already served much more than the sentence required for being an illegal animagus, so he just had to go register himself. The Ministry would also pay for his medical treatment in St. Mungo's. 

Minerva McGonagall was crying. 

"You didn't know," I tried to comfort, "Or else you would have done something, right? And you were the one who told me people make big mistakes sometimes. What matters is that we learn and make up for it." 

She gave me a shaky smile. "You remind me so very much of your grandmother." 

"What was she like?" I asked. 

"Come to my office this evening once you've finished your assignments, Miss Potter, and perhaps I will tell you," she negotiated. 

"You just want me to finish my Herbology essay as soon as possible." 

"The longer you keep it waiting, the worse it gets." 

I blew some hair out of my eyes. "Fine."

Notes:

minnie: do your homework sita
sita: but i-
minnie: *grandma mom stare*
sita: yes ma'am

Chapter 9: Family and Other Feelings. Scary.

Summary:

a little bit filler, a miniscule of plot. just some calm before. yk. before.

Notes:

and now... we figure out who effie green was. and just how is she connected to the grandmas?

I entered the office with gusto, greeting her with a "Evening, Professor McGonagall!" 

She raised an eyebrow. I wilted. "Yes, I wrote 9 inches on the properties of Devil's Snare." 

She smiled, and then gestured for me to sit. For a few moments, there was no sound but the scratching of a quill as she finished grading her assignments, while I was once again drawn to the Runes section. 

"I see you've found your special interest?" she said playfully. 

I blushed. "Well, I haven't done any proper reading on the curriculum yet so who knows?" a pause. "Can I get a grandma story now?" 

Minnie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. 

"Euphemia was one of the very rare Greengrasses who ended up in Gryffindor, but thankfully her family took it well," Minnie began, "In all fairness, I do see how she ended up there, what with the amount of reckless stunts she'd do for the sake of winning a Quidditch match." 

"She played Quidditch?" 

"Why, of course! She was one of the best Seekers we had – only Charlie Weasley could beat her record – and I must say, if asked, that at least part of your father's extraordinary ability on a broom was due to her." 

"And what stunt did she pull?" I nudged. 

"A perfectly executed Wronski Feint in our fifth year," Minnie informed proudly, "Just about made Poppy faint of fear in the stands." 

"Wow," wait. "You said our fifth year. You went to Hogwarts with her!" 

"Ah, yes," Minnie agreed, now avoiding my eyes, "Effie, Poppy, and I were more or less inseparable, back as young students." 

Oh shit, grandma is dead, this is heartbreak territory, quick, quick, uh, "Do you have the Runes curriculum books?" 

That was quite possibly one of the most stupid ways to steer the conversation away. Minnie's look suggests she knows this, but also that she's grateful enough so she just… wandlessly summoned the textbook. 

"When will I be able to do wandless magic as cool as that?" I asked. 

"When you have the sufficient aptitude in a particular field and it's certain it might not damage your magical core, perhaps we will consider it," she acquiesced. "Do not go around trying to learn it on your own, that will only cause damage that could have been prevented." 

"Yes, Ma'am," I saluted, before being seen out of the classroom, Runes textbook in hand. 

I was immediately accosted by my dear cousin Padma in the hallways. Apparently, her Ravenclaws had heard about the fact that we lions had a baby study group with three snakes, and that Padma also joined us occasionally, and were big on group study anyway and so. Requested an in. Which I decided to grant because the more the merrier and also this is all part of my nasty evil plan to make everyone friends. 

So now our group also had three birds, namely Lisa Turpin, Padma Patil and Michael Corner. Hermione finally found the people who would genuinely debate niche research with her and have fun doing it. I was so happy for her! We all tried, we really did, but after a point one simply is unable to keep up with Hermione Granger. 

Even the Ravenclaws could see that, but at least they were able to keep up a noble battle, if a losing one. 

I got a letter at breakfast the next day. Draco Malfoy sauntered forward, all who'd send you a letter, Potter?  

"It's too early for your bullshit," I groaned, "Let me finish my tea first." 

He sputtered. "Why, I–" 

"Yeah, yeah, rich boy, I know you've given bad names to peacocks everywhere, but why would you want to bother us about it?" Parvati cut in. 

Lavender held up a butter knife, looking bored. Draco ran. 

"He has a point though," I said to no one in particular, "Who is sending me letters?" 

"Maybe you could read it and guess," Neville offered. See? A few months with me and now his sass and confidence levels are insane. I am such a good influence. 

(I waved to Cassius Warrington over at Slytherin. He glared at me. I grinned. He gave a tiny, shaky wave back.)

I opened the letter, which read: 

Pup, 

I'm not sure if you know exactly who I am, but for the sake of it, my name's Sirius Black. You should probably call me Padfoot, in fact, that might be what you remember, hopefully. I'm your godfather! 

I am so, so sorry I was dumb and reckless and missed the chance to raise you like you deserved, but I'm here now, and I'd like to get to know you. We are family, after all. I'd also push for custody – it would be great to have you live with me, honestly – but that's only if you want to do it. I'll respect your wishes if you're happy with your current guardians. 

I still think exchanging letters to get to know each other is a good idea. So! I'm Padfoot, I can turn into this giant black dog that you used to love playing with as a baby, my favourite colour is Gryffindor red, and your father once dared me to eat 45 jalapenos. 

What about you? Which house did you get in? Where did you grow up? What are your favourite things? Tell me all about your friends! Merlin, I'm so excited. 

Love, 
Padfoot
Marauder and Dogfather.  

So much dust in the air. Maybe I have an allergy? I gotta check about that. I swallowed a weird lump in my throat and carefully folded up the letter; this would need a well thought-out response. I didn't want to miss a single thing, after all. 

Still, throughout the day, I could not get Sirius' letter out of my head. It even affected my classes, to an extent: Minnie raised an eyebrow when my mouse couldn't turn into a snuffbox by the third try. I was smart enough to pay enough attention to avoid the too bad consequences of not paying attention while doing literal magic or handling delicate potions. My performance didn't excel in the usual way, that's all. 

I didn't even want to do my homework! Which is a testament to how my state of mind was, because homework is one of the first things in my mind that's in the loop of might as well do it early and get it over with.  

Then I thought of what a terrible example it would set for my lions and more importantly, how not paying attention might lead to a rabbit hole with the final conclusion of not having better grades than Tom Riddle and that. Ugh. I picked up my quill and began working. It was my favourite kind of motivation: when in doubt, think of spite. So far, it has given me zero problems. 

Quickly, I went upstairs and began penning my response. 

Dear Padfoot, 

I do remember you! Vaguely, but I do. My friends also told me about you a bit, as did Professor McGonagall – she's amazing, by the way, by far one of my favourite teachers – so I do have an idea! 

Now I want to know how that dare ended. Were you able to eat those jalapenos? Did the spices win or did you? 

It's okay to make mistakes, especially in a situation like that. I doubt anyone was really doing well that night. As for custody, I wouldn't mind if you apply – I don't want to live with Aunt Petunia anyway. She's horrid. 

Now about me… I'm a Gryffindor, because I asked the hat where I could cause the most chaos. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall are my favourites, along with Madam Pomfrey. My favourite colours are royal blue and gold, I like sugar quills and chai, and my favourite subject might be Runes. I know, I know, that's not technically my subject, but I was really interested so I borrowed a textbook and I just love it, okay? 

As for my friends… well, my best friend is probably Neville. He seems shy at first, but once you get to know him, he has a wicked sense of humour. Then there's Parvati and Padma Patil and Daphne Greengrass, all cousins of mine. Parvati is the most supportive person I know, while Padma and Daphne seem very put-together all the time. I doubt they really are, though. Nobody is. 

Basically the entirety of the first year lions are my friends, honestly. We're a tight knit group, McGonagall is so proud, I just know it; she doesn't tell me, but I know. Then there's Blaise, Theo, Lisa, and Michael too. Plus Percy, Cassius, Penelope and Gemma in the older years! In all honesty, doing my friends justice in one letter is impossible, so maybe we'll save that for when we meet in person? And I do want to meet you in person. I'll make sure of it! 

So, I heard you were finally freed. Long overdue, if you ask me. Shouldn't they have a system to make sure everyone they capture gets a fair trial at the time itself? Anyway, what have you been doing lately? Any special reunions? 

Hugs, 
Sita 
Baby Marauder and Chaos Lover

There. I folded it up neatly, and took it to the owlery to send it to St. Mungo's, where his letter was labelled to have come from. Come to think of it, I'd probably have to discuss living arrangements with my grandmas. If Sirius didn't have official custody, there was no telling whether or not Dumbledore might come to check if I was still at the Dursleys'. Then again, I didn't want to leave Minnie and Poppy either. 

Why did things have to be so confusing?

Notes:

minnie: you remind me of your grandmother.
sita: yay!
minnie: this is a terrible, terrible thing for my blood pressure.

Chapter 10: I Have A Major Breakdown

Summary:

the author tries to wrap up the voldemort problem quickly via a kind of deux ex machina because of course she does. makes sita suffer in the process because of course she does.

Notes:

surprise! i'm still here!! sadly, life's been hectic and i ended up on a different hyperfixation for some time. anyway, a small sita potter menty b before i disappear once more.

Diary. Malfoy Manor. Cup. Lestrange Vault. Locket. Grimmauld. Ring. Gaunt Shack. Diadem. Room of Requirement. Sita Potter. Hogwarts. Nagini? Future.

The words were running around my head in a loop, as if I could just summon and destroy all the Horcruxes by some unknown magic of chanting their names. 

"Sita," Hermione nudged, "Wake up before we miss breakfast!"

If things had remained the same instead of me coming here and trying to fix everything, then in six years she would have been at the other end of Bellatrix Lestrange's Crucio and a slur carved onto her skin. 

"I'm not hungry," I mumbled, turning over in bed, "You all go ahead." 

"Meals are important," Lavender pressed. 

Werewolf bite. Unknown consequences.

I buried my face in the pillow. 

And then, my saviour. "You all go ahead," Parvati said, "I'll try to talk to her." 

There was a bit of a shuffle, some hushed whispers, and I could only assume the other four were trying to figure out if this was the best idea, but my cousin convinced them in the end, as I heard the sound of footsteps going away. 

Parvati (probably) sat down next to me. 

"What's gotten you all mopey today?" 

Oh, nothing much, just realising once again that in my past life this was all a book series and all my friends could die or face unimaginable trauma if I can't avoid the war entirely. No pressure or anything.  

But saying that would get me admitted to the Janus Thickney Ward of St. Mungo's. 

"Nightmares," I lied instead. "Lady screaming, green light, evil guy cackling." 

It occurred to me that I should probably feel bad that I used Halloween 1981 to get Parvati, who only had nice intentions, to leave me alone but… it was a half-truth at best, right? I did have a nightmare about the murder. I did wake up at some point, and have been considering how massively wrong everything can go at any moment since. 

My name is Sita Potter. I am eleven years old. I like chocolate and I– I can't let Voldemort hurt any more innocent people. 

Parvati sighs. "It's a holiday anyway, I'll tell everyone else that you feel ill, okay?" I gave her a hum in agreement. "I'll bring you something to eat." 

"Not hungry." 

"Wasn't asking." 

Mentally, I stuck my tongue out at her. Physically, I buried my face deeper in the pillow. A while later, after Lavender and Fay had teamed up to force-feed me soup, I was staring at the ceiling and playing with Regulus Black's snitch. 

Wait. 

Regulus Black. RAB. Kreacher.  

It shouldn't be possible. Not at all. But Dobby hadn't been a Hogwarts elf when he sneaked in, had he? Sirius had freely admitted that the Family Magic decided he was Lord Black now, and that I had been named the heiress to all his assets from birth itself. I checked the time – better not have anyone eavesdrop on this – and once assured that the girls wouldn't be back from the lakeside for a few hours yet, I performed my experiment. 

"Kreacher?" 

Pop. "The filthy half-blood calls Kreacher?" he croaked. 

Oh right. That's why I hadn't wanted to talk to him. 

"I'm Heiress Black, if we're being technical here," I informed, "And I know about Regulus' locket." 

"Filthy half-blood heiress knows about Master Regulus' locket? But how?" and then, "Oh Kreacher tried to destroy it, he did, but Kreacher failed again and again–" 

"I know how to destroy it," I blurted out. His beady eyes zoomed in on me immediately. Taking a deep breath, I continued. "The locket is a horcrux, which means it can only be destroyed by Fiendfyre, Basilisk venom, or the Killing Curse. If you doubt my methods, go ahead and try it on Regulus' locket. But you have to promise me that if they work, you'll come back and help me destroy the rest of the horcruxes." 

"There are more like the locket?" Kreacher asked. 

"Yes," I confirmed. "Regulus hadn't known, but I know enough to say that if he had, then he would have wanted those destroyed too." 

"Filthy half-blood is right, she is," Kreacher muttered to himself, "I will destroy the locket now." 

And with another pop, he vanished. Was it really that easy? Then again, I'd always realised just how resourceful house-elves were. Wizards just happened to be dumb, disregarding strength in their illusion of thinking they are the best. 

(But illusions always break in the end, don't they?)

Two days later, Kreacher came back. The permanently red eyes had seemed to have healed and he didn't look so hunched over. He looked, dare I say it, healthier. Is this how much not being able to fulfil Regulus' last wish had done to him? Prejudiced shit or not, I felt bad for him. 

"The locket has been destroyed. Master Regulus' wish is done," he croaked. 

"Not quite," I said, mentally apologising for using Regulus Black's memory like this. But there was no other way to get Kreacher to listen right now. "I told you, there's more like the locket." 

A determined glint entered his eyes. I should probably be concerned about the tiny hints of madness in them too, but he had served the House of Black for generations. Environmental hazards and all need to be taken into account. 

"Kreacher will destroy all the horcruxes," he decides, "Heiress Black need only ask."

Once again, I was floored at how wizards had just… discarded someone so powerful and loyal. All it needed for me to get Kreacher to listen to me was to invoke Regulus' memory and try to help move along the man's last wishes. Quickly, I gave Kreacher a properly written list of all the other horcruxes, plus where they were and any important curses associated with them (i.e. Gaunt Ring), and also told him to go check the forests of Albania for Nagini for good measure. Just in case. 

I had full confidence that Kreacher, sneaky little elf that he was, especially after serving the Blacks, who were fucking crazy, would find a way to get them all in his hands and destroyed. I had given him no sort of limit of what he couldn't do to destroy the horcruxes, and all I'd given was a single ultimatum: to try his best to get it over with before the end of the school year. 

That left Quirrelmort, and the final horcrux: me. 

I didn't have a lot of time to put thought into those two, because I had to start revising. 

"You know it's months before our exams, right?" Seamus asked Hermione and I. 

"It's always good to be prepared," Hermione supplied. 

"I'm going to murder these exams so hard," I informed, while writing a practice essay. And maybe, just maybe, I was focusing on my studies because they were something I could control, while I had no idea how to deal with the Stone fiasco or the horcrux residing in my scar. 

I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. When I ended up sleeping, usually out of sheer exhaustion, I was woken up by nightmares of all sorts of things I remembered from the books and movies as well as other scenarios my brain cooked up. 

My friends, usually dead or being tortured. Minnie and Poppy in a pool of blood. Sirius Black falling through the Veil. Cedric Diggory getting hit by the Killing Curse. 

In these times, the Invisibility Cloak became my saviour. When I inevitably woke up – and thanked the universe I wasn't the screaming during nightmares type, otherwise nobody in this dorm could get an ounce of sleep; sometimes silent suffering is better – I quickly checked over to see no one could catch me and sneaked out to sit at the ledge of the Astronomy Tower. 

There was something soothing in the night sky, in being alone and unseen, away from all the stress that inevitably came from being out and about. The night time at the Astronomy Tower was also a great time for semi-philosophical thinking, as I tried to piece together what I had learned so far and the things I remembered from my past life. 

Arjun threw down his bow because he felt conflicted, because he said he couldn't fight. But the story – quite famously – didn't end there. Arjun asked Krishna to aid him. Much before that, much before the battlefield came into existence, Draupadi also asked. It occurred to me then, perhaps, that James Potter meant more than just asking friends and family for help with my responsibilities and finances. 

He was raised on the same scriptures, after all. 

And it seemed I had also fallen into the trap of illusion that decided I was the doer of anything, when I had expressedly learnt, so many times, that there is no doer. At the end of the day, we are instruments bound by karma. 

So I had to ask for help. And what better way to invoke a deity than to constantly take their name? Naamjap, as I had been taught, was in this specific era one of the most powerful forms of prayer. 

Therefore, I decided not to question why my constant studying paired with the lack of proper, restful sleep had landed me in the hospital wing, in front of a very angry (and concerned) Madam Pomfrey. 

"Sita Jasmine Potter," oh shit, "What has gotten into you?" 

Pray for me, folks.

Notes:

sita: *overworked, sleep-deprived, refuses to go to someone, just generally not handling this very well*
krishna, from somewhere: absolutely not. no no no. not on my watch.
(dramatic theme plays. poppy pomfrey enters in her uniform, with the medical kit and the rage of a mother dragon.)

Chapter 11: Plot Progress Via Filler Because That Happens Here Now

Summary:

things happen. sita is still not sure about this whole self-care thing.

Notes:

okay so this... feels like a mix of a filler chapter AND a chapter with major plot points? or like. minor plot points that we wave away in this ship of moving forward towards more insanity.

"I'm sorry?" I tried weakly. 

"Do you have any idea how worried we were?" Poppy hissed, "It could have been so much worse! As it is, be grateful that one of your friends had the good sense to get you here before you hurt yourself further." 

"I wasn't hurting myself," I argued. 

"My scans show that you haven't been sleeping enough, haven't been eating enough, and seem to have overworked yourself. That tells me enough, little lady." I looked down at the blankets, a little ashamed. After all, I did know that what I was doing was not the best idea. Poppy's voice softened, "Can you tell me what's wrong?" 

"I was scared," I confessed. 

"Of the exams?" the mediwitch guessed, "Because I assure you, first-year tests are not so difficult, not to mention you're plenty smart." 

"Well, that and the curse scar." 

Her eyes narrowed. "The curse scar." 

Mentally, I apologised for lying about this. In my defense, telling her I was from another world where this was a book series would not go down well. 

"It hurts a lot these days," I explained, "Especially in front of Professor Quirrell's turban – I really don't know why – so I might have sneaked into the library for answers." 

"Did you get the answers?" 

"Well, no, but everything I did get suggested it was horrible and endangered me and stuff like that." 

"I see," Poppy sighed. "This seems like the kind of curse I'd bring Filius in for, if that is alright with you, Miss Potter?" 

"I don't mind," don't goblins have some sort of way out that doesn't involve Harry dying usually? Or was that a fic thing? I really don't want to be hit by the Killing Curse. That would suck. 

Poppy told me to rest now (translation: go the fuck to sleep), so I obeyed. Nobody argues with Poppy Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing. 

So of course Kreacher would wake me up at midnight when no one else is around. It occurred to me that I didn't ever tell him to not wake me up, and he doesn't like me as much yet anyway. Oh well. Beggars can't be choosers. 

"You destroyed them all?" 

"Kreacher did as Heiress Black asked." 

All of them. "How did you even get the diary and the cup?" 

"Both were within little miss Narcissa's home," huh, so maybe the cup went to Bellatrix later? "Kreacher has friends there." 

"Friends who never got the order to not give someone either of those things," I pieced together. An approving glint entered his eyes. Hey look, we're one teeny tiny step closer to Kreacher respecting me! 

"Heiress Black is right." 

Yay for me! 

"And the ring?" I asked. I didn't want him to be cursed, you know. 

"Kreacher set fiendfyre to the filthy house," he croaked, concerningly proud about setting a whole house on magical fire. "Mistress Lycoris taught me." 

Why would you teach your already semi-insane house-elf how to cast fiendfyre of all things, I wondered, before remembering that nobody in the House of Black was ever really known for impressive sanity. 

(At least the mission cheered him up?)

"And Albania?" 

"Nothing to be found, Heiress Black," he informed dutifully, "My friend showed me the Room of Hidden Things." 

So Kreacher has friends. Wow. That's almost wholesome to hear. 

"Thank you very much, Kreacher," I said honestly, "I don't think I would have been able to do it without you." The elf's ears perked up. Aww, this was actually cute. "And one final order: no more punishing yourself over anything, okay?" 

"Heiress Black thanks and praises Kreacher like an equal," he mumbled, "Too kind, too kind… So much like young Master Regulus, oh how Kreacher misses him…" 

"You can go now," I dismissed, "Maybe even rest a little. You've done some important work lately." 

He vanished. And I went back to sleep. 

I woke up again a few hours later, to the sound of hushed arguing. Professor Flitwick was trying to convince Dumbledore that being checked over by the goblins would be the most beneficial for me, Dumbledore said he had it handled and it really wasn't necessary (fuck you), and then Minnie went to side with Flitwick about how I was one of her lions and that she was willing to give Flitwick permission. I felt like Poppy was probably glaring at them all and telling them to tone it down. 

And then Dumbles made a grave mistake. A simple slip of tongue, but enough to crumble his argument to smithereens. 

"Filius, I have searched tirelessly for an answer, but the fact remains that a horcr– I mean to say, a curse such as that does not have a ready cure–" 

"Horcrux," Flitwick whispered, aghast, "That's what you were going to say, isn't it? Do you realise how dangerous that could be unchecked, especially in a young child?" 

"I tried–" 

"Well, clearly you didn't try enough, or else we wouldn't be here, would we?" Poppy broke her silence. What a queen. I strive to be as savage. 

Dumbledore didn't have an answer to that, until finally, hopefully facing three combined glares, he sighed, "Very well, Filius, Minerva. If you are so inclined, I suppose you can take her over the next weekend." 

Everyone went their own ways, blissfully unaware that I had heard everything, and then Poppy woke me up for a final scan. In her words, everything seemed to be in order, and I should make sure it stays that way, so help her anything at all, or I would be getting a permanent stay here. Finally, finally, she released me and I was accosted by my friends. 

"What were you thinking?!" and before I could answer, Hermione Granger squeezed me in one of the tightest hugs known to mankind. She was strong.  

From behind her, Daphne dryly stated, "I hope this teaches you a lesson about overworking yourself." 

I knew you cared, Miss Unflappable Cousin. 

Most of my friends repeated either or both of these sentiments mixed up, and I got no small amount of hugs. Which was great, because hugs!!!!  

And then I reached Parvati. 

"Don't you dare pull something like that again!" and here I thought Lavender was the scary one, "You could have told me, or Neville or literally anyone else! Promise me you'll go to someone next time something like this happens again." 

"I'll try," I offered, because I wasn't sure if I could fight the trap I'd created for myself every time. My friends, at least, didn't deserve that, so I would try my best to fight it for their sake if nothing else. 

I also found out Theo was the one who carried me. Apparently, I am 'weirdly light and small'. Fuck you too, Nott. I am not small. 

Over the next week, all my friends kept a thorough eye on me. It would have been annoying, if I wasn't so touched by it. They even managed to set up a round the clock guard! Meaning: they were able to cooperate without my insanity to hold them together too. Progress has been made. I was so proud of them I even forgot to pout about the guard system. 

Both Minnie and Professor Flitwick also kept a close eye on me during mealtimes and their respective lectures. Snape began taking points off me for no reason instead of ignoring me now, so either exam stress was getting to him, or he learned vague things about my medical trip to Gringotts and thought I was getting preferential treatment or whatever. Both are plausible. 

In other news, I'd started getting Sirius a redemption! See, as our letters progressed, he began proudly regaling me with pranks of the Marauders. Some of them were admittedly hilarious, others were clearly in retaliation towards people who more or less deserved it but… Quite a few tasted uncomfortably like bullying. 

Now, I remembered enough to know that the Marauders did bully specific Slytherins. That wasn't new. But with my recent correspondence with Sirius, as well as my host of emotions towards James Potter (especially concerning his letter), it felt worse to know. Dare I say it, I was a little hurt by the fact that people I would proudly call family were teenage bullies and still proud of it. 

So I began calling Sirius out on his bullshit. He wasn't a very elegant recipient at first, trying to make me 'see sense' and offering all sorts of excuses. Eventually, I got fed up and used my final card, the one that I really didn't want to use. 

Listen, I don't like Snape just as much as the next person, but just answer a simple question: how would you feel about it if someone did to me the exact same things you did to him when you guys were younger?

For a while, there was radio silence. That was probably another reason I was so readily destroying my mental health by not taking care of myself and overworking, possibly. Sirius hadn't answered for a while, for more than was normal, and I was genuinely afraid I'd shot down any progress made towards having a relationship with him. 

I got a letter from him a few days after the hospital incident, and cheered internally while reading it. It seemed that my trump card had made him see sense, and take a long look at himself and his actions. He admitted, finally, that maybe some of the things he did were bullying, that the victims didn't deserve it, and he should know better than to be proud of such actions. 

Maybe the imagery of the kid he swore to love and protect being bullied struck a chord. 

All in all, I had a good week. And then, Minnie came to collect me for my Gringotts medical exam, for which Professor Flitwick would also be with us. My two favs, what could possibly go wrong?

Notes:

(anything happens to sita ever)
poppy, minnie, filius: imma stab a man.

Chapter 12: Money?!

Summary:

in which the author reminds everyone that the Potters are loaded because of good business. and other things happen too, i guess.

Notes:

hello hello hello. i am here to tell you that i will only be around on sundays for a good while now (most likely a year), not counting the occasional vacations and holidays i'll get. term has started in full force, and i'm in classes monday to saturday for half the day, plus traveling hours. that's also a major reason why this fic has specifically been tagged as not having an update schedule - bit hard when i knew my year would be hectic and the fic would definitely continue into the academic year.

ANYWAY: enjoy sita making some good, well-thought out decisions.

What the fuck.

I stared at the pile of paperwork in front of me with mounting horror. What is this? Why are there so many numbers? 

"Is this math?" I asked, my mouth going dry all of a sudden. 

"Simply finances, Miss Potter." 

Oh, money math. Better than normal math, but still scary. 

"Why is this," I gestured toward the pile that was the size of half my body, "In front of me, sir?" 

The goblin smiled like he was taking great pleasure in my confusion and fear. "Because it is yours, Miss." 

I sent Minnie a pleading look. She tried to hold back a laugh; how could you, grandma, after all this time, when I trusted you so– 

"These are the Potter family finances, I believe," Minnie began explaining, "Although I was under the impression that she would be subjected to this work at least after her O.W.L.s?" 

Oh dear. So that's what Dad meant by 'we're a brand'. I guess all the money didn't just accumulate magically. 

"Under better circumstances, yes," the goblin informed, "But as we know, she is the last Potter, meaning there is no older relative to graciously take all the load until she is allowed to start training at fifteen." 

"So I'm getting trained at eleven?"  

"Ideally, you should be trained from at least five," Goblin-Man droned on, "But there was that issue of you being missing to the entirety of magical society, and then the Professor made the withdrawals for your supply shopping so quite frankly, this is the first opportunity we got." 

Okay, okay, you were a mature adult once upon a time. Think, how do you respond to it? 

"Who's been handling this until then?" 

"No one," he said simply, "However, business continued as usual thanks to the insightful investments of your forefathers," thank you, smart people who birthed me, "And so all the audits of the past ten years have been forwarded to Mr. Black, who will be responsible until you are old enough to take the mantle." 

"And when am I supposed to be old enough?" 

"In this situation?" a pause. Please let it be after Hogwarts. Please let it be after Hogwarts. "As soon as you get your O.W.L. results." 

Now that's just cruel. I'm supposed to deal with puberty, school and a company at the same time?  

I didn't let that show on my face of course. Good impressions, you know. Wouldn't want them to want me dead, especially since the horcrux removal prep is ongoing. Honestly, one of the goblins just said that they would take a while preparing the ritual stuff and this one dragged Minnie and I to this mound of paperwork. That I inherited. 

"That does not sound right," YES! You tell him, grandma! 

"As the Accountant, I would rather not have the Potter Enterprises in the hands of someone else for any longer than strictly necessary." 

Aww look, he's trying to save his job. That's a noble endeavour if I've ever seen one, I decided. Might as well face the music (paperwork) that would be intricately tied into my future.

Also, Potter Enterprises. How much more of a privileged rich girl will I become? This might be almost sad, even, except for the whole part where I have money. That's a great part. 

Another goblin peeks in, and relays some information to Mr. Accountant, who nods and tells us to go our way towards the ritual chamber. 

"Don't forget to come back and collect your homework, Miss Potter!" 

He thrives on my discomfort, I tell you. Thrives. 

So they took me to the ritual chamber. It was pretty huge, and positively covered in Runes. It's a little sad I would not get to study it. Immediately, I was led to a stone table in the middle of the room – cliche much? – and told to lay down. And then, it commenced. 

I'm just not going to describe that ritual to you. What would you even want to know? Maybe the searing pain that shot through my entire body, for example, as my forehead felt like it was being hacked to death by a hammer. Do you want to know how I slipped into past life habits and screamed for my mother? Or… do you want to know how I could swear I heard the answering roar of a lion in the air?

By the time I came back to my senses, the goblins looked victorious, Flitwick's face was in a permanent wince, and Minnie looked shaken and pale. 

"Ouch bye bye?" I asked, a little loopy. 

"Yes, Miss Potter, the horcrux has been removed." 

I giggled, for some reason. "Hey, I feel a little funny–" 

My dear pebbles, I don't know what happened next, because I fainted. I assume someone carried me back, probably Minnie, being my beloved grandma and all, but the idea of Flitwick carrying me was fun too.

I woke up in my bed at Hogwarts, all four of my roommates peering over me curiously. 

"Your scar faded," Fay pointed out helpfully. 

"As in?" 

"As in, most of it could go away soon. Or at least not stand out as much." 

"It bloody worked!" I whooped. 

Lavender blinked several times. "You're happy about this?" I stared at her, uncomprehending, "You know, about losing the most vital girl-who-lived thing?" 

"Hell yes I am," I answered enthusiastically, "For one, I don't subscribe to that superpowered baby theory, as you well know, and secondly, there was a curse in it. From Voldemort."  

I shuddered, thinking about how that piece of shit had kept his soul fragment in me. Not willingly, but it was fucking there, wasn't it? I don't want his pinky touching me, much less his soul. Disgusting. I would not recommend. 

"So… what now?" Hermione asked. 

"My dear little licorices," I began grandly, "Do we not want to ace our exams?" 

And that was that. 

I began studying with a newfound rigour, because getting straight O's in first year was the beginning in the path to beating Tom Riddle. My haze progressed, and the exams were finally here. 

The theory was all painfully easy. That was either due to my thorough revision, or the knowledge that no one in history had ever failed up till third year at least. I'd even managed to do well in History of Magic, though that probably had more to do with the fact that while everyone else gladly took their nap time, I cracked open the textbook and got to work, using Binns' droning voice as background noise. 

(Also, I could cuddle Riddle during that class. That alone was reason enough for me to not go to sleep.)

As for practicals… 

In Transfiguration, we had to transform our rats into a music box. I made mine scarlet and gold (for the house pride, y'know), and even added a tiny lion design on its side. The powers of manifestation, people. In Charms, my pineapple tap danced exactly to the beat of the rickroll. My potion was so perfect even Snape couldn't find fault with it, although he sneered like I was the world's greatest idiot and muttered something about flukes. Bitch. My Astronomy star chart was more or less accurate, I think. In Defence, we had to demonstrate a few spells we'd learned, which I did spectacularly. 

In Herbology, my plant didn't die. Sprout and I both considered this a win. 

The exams were over, everyone was celebrating, and then I heard someone talk about Dumbledore being called to the Ministry. Fuck. 

Okay, think rationally Sita: all the horcruxes are destroyed. If Voldemort's gone now, he's just gone. If I manage to succeed today, it's done. The war is avoided. My friends are safe. But… I may be a smart student, but I'm nowhere good enough to go through all the stone traps alone. Taking any of my friends with me is a no-go immediately, I can't put them in that kind of danger. There's only one option left. 

"Professor McGonagall, lovely day, isn't it?" I said as I entered her office, thrilled to see Poppy with her. 

Poppy came to hug me immediately. "I'm so glad you're doing better, little lady," she gushed. "And don't you worry about those exams, a birdie told me you did quite well." 

(Minnie bristled at being called a bird. Don't cats hunt them?)

Despite the graveness of the situation hanging over my head, I couldn't help but smile. I loved my grandmas so much. 

"I'm doing great," I agreed enthusiastically. "Professor Quirrell might not be, though." 

Minnie raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?" 

"There's something wrong with the back of his turban, we've talked about this," I babbled on before I lost my confidence and everything went to shit, "And it was always the curse scar that hurt which is not a great sign for his turban. Also he was missing from the Staff Table at lunch today, and a friend of mine went to check a Defence doubt she had but he wasn't in his office either and–" 

"Breathe, Miss Potter." Poppy placed a calming hand on my shoulder. "We believe you." 

"You do?" I asked, not yet sure. In canon, McGonagall hadn't believed the trio. But then, that was Harry. Sita Potter had never been caught out of bed during curfew, was never involved in shady dragon and troll stuff, and had gotten a grand total of zero detentions. A right goody-two-shoes I was, but that was how I'd always been. 

Also, she'd basically adopted me. She knew what I was like, and she knew I wouldn't say stuff for no reason. All in all, it was a reliable source to go off of. 

So Minnie and Poppy got their wands polished, put their battle gear on (there wasn't any, they were in the same robes, but let me have this), and told me to stay in the office. Minnie also patted my head and let me have another Runes book, that I began reading eagerly. 

What? This is interesting stuff. And both my grandmas are badass, some guy possessed by Mouldyshorts has nothing on them. 

They returned in two hours, not a single hair out of place or a single crease in their robes. The only thing betraying any sort of great fighting sequence was the slightly disgusted look in Poppy's eyes and the pursing of Minnie's lips in displeasure. 

"I can't believe the idiot boy let himself get possessed by that," Minnie muttered. 

"Even looking at it was ghastly," Poppy continued. She turned to me, who was giving them both a bright smile, "Sita, dear, it was smart of you to inform us immediately. I can't believe that fu– that stupid man would do something like that, honestly."

"Who got possessed by what?" I asked innocently. 

"Well, there's no point lying to you about it," Minnie muttered, "The back of the turban that you were so suspicious of had the last piece of You-Know-Who behind it." 

I made a face. "That's a terrible fashion decision."

I called it a win when I saw Poppy muffle a laugh.

Notes:

voldemort: dies.
minnie and poppy: are generally badass
sita: oh god i have to learn finances?!

bonus- sprout: oh dear LORD she kept a plant ALIVE I'M SO PROUD OF THIS GIRL

bonus bonus-
the author, me: frankly, if i went to magic school, i'd want to pay more attention to studying magic rather than fighting a megalomaniac who i was way to under-qualified to go against anyway. luckily, i can live vicariously through sita.

Chapter 13: Stop Lying, You're Married

Summary:

sita meets more of the competent adults. there's some emotion.

Notes:

hi yes i'm here and somehow still managing. technically, i'm managing with the prewritten work but oh well. i deserve some slack. the semester workload is. yeah.

The train compartment as we went back home for the holidays was so full I was certain there was an extension charm involved. 

Padma and Hermione were having a very serious discussion on the application of household charms in duelling. Parvati and Lavender were braiding each other's hair, while at least half the Gryffindors and the three Slytherins were engaged in a vicious (and highly competitive) game of Exploding Snap. 

Neville was reading a book on carnivorous plants. I was sleeping on his shoulder. Or, at least, trying to. The goal was to go through a bit more of the audits on the train, but let's be honest, I did five pages and instantly wanted to go to sleep. 

Making an eleven-year-old brain and body understand complex finance was tough work. 

I dreamed about flying chairs. Don't question it, all my nice dreams are like that. Anyway, right after the big blue chair got murdered by a round table, Parvati shook me awake. We'd arrived at Platform 9¾ at last. 

The Patil twins immediately dragged me to their parents, only just giving me the time to say my goodbyes and promise to write to everyone. 

I let my cousins do the talking, listening to the rapid fire Tamil that I don't understand at all, but I did hear my name being mentioned. After that conversation was over, Parvati pulled me up front and in their parents' line of sight. I touched their feet and then gave an awkward smile. 

Mrs. Patil cooed at me. Literally cooed. "Oh, you have such wonderful manners!" 

Parvati choked on spit in the background. I guess they were used to my chaos maker persona more?

"You look remarkably like my great-aunt," Mr. Patil observed. 

I blinked, confused, "Forgive me for asking, but who is that?" 

He laughed, but there was nothing malicious in it. "Nothing to forgive, beta. James and I, our grandfather had a sister. I believe you might have seen her on the tree?" 

Looking back at the many, many memories I had created of tracing over my family tree and learning who my ancestors were, I put forth my best guess: "Shreya?" 

"Very good!" He praised, "Diligent student too." 

Mrs. Patil pinched my cheeks. Normally, I wouldn't have liked this but something about her just… it was welcoming. I let her. 

"Well, we wouldn't want to keep your guardians waiting," she decided, before narrowing her eyes, "Do come over during summer, sweetie. We'd be thrilled to have you!" 

This was probably the first summer I had so many places to go, both lives included. Theo had very excitedly announced that his family was hosting the Summer Ball, and that I had to be there. Daphne planned for a Diagon Alley outing. I was also invited to the Burrow, the Grangers', and the Longbottoms'. 

As for my guardians… 

"Moony, I'm telling you, that one's her–" 

"Even if she is, you can't just pop up randomly and claim–" 

I decided to rid them of their problem. 

"Hello, Padfoot, Moony," I greeted airily. "The pictures do not do you two justice." 

"Prongslet!" Sirius squealed. "We're going to have the best summer ever!"

"Cub," Remus butted in, a little calmer, "It's wonderful to finally meet you." 

I couldn't help it. I crushed them both in a hug that will be known to us forever. All of us were in some state of sniffling afterwards. We talked on our way to Sirius' brand new car (apparently, he made a big fuss about wanting one and Remus bought it as a gift to shut him up). 

"So, Professor McGonagall has all but ordered us to visit as soon as we're settled for the summer," Remus began. "Please tell me you did not do something that would make her give you detention over summer break." 

"What? No," I sniffed haughtily, "I'm among the best, most well-behaved students known to Hogwarts. A credit to the institution, I've been told. Minnie just loves me." 

Sirius barked a laugh. "And how did that happen?"

"Long story," I answered. 

"We have time." 

Sigh. That we did. And so, I began regaling them with the story of how Minnie and Poppy took on a daring life of crime for the wholesome purpose of caring for a young girl and her angry cat. When I mentioned I grew up with Petunia, Sirius' hands tightened on the wheel and Remus audibly growled. Aww. It's so sweet they hate her as much as I do. We'll have a grand old time, we will. 

"Pup," Sirius began, seriously for once, "You're sure you want to live with us then?" 

I blinked, slightly afraid. "What do you mean?" 

He ran a hand through his hair. "Of course, we would love to have you live with us. But I always want you to be where you're happiest, okay? And if that's with McGonagall and Pomfrey, we won't be angry if you want to live with them. You've known them for longer." 

"You're right," I said, paying attention to the way both men tensed, "I have known them for longer. But that doesn't mean I don't want to live with my godfather and uncle. I think… I think that if my parents thought you both were the immediate first choice to raise me after them, then that must mean they trusted you enough. It means I'm going to be happy with you guys. Besides, I have a track record of barging into either of their offices at random times and that will now extend to their home. You will be coming with me." 

Slowly, slightly, Remus smiled, "A wise kid, aren't you? Lily is probably boasting about you in the afterlife." 

Sirius, ever the prankster, added, "If you want to drag me to Minnie's secret hideout, by all means, lead the way." 

I laughed, and decided that this summer is going to be so much better than anything at the Dursleys'. When our ride came to a stop, we were at a classy muggle London area, the kind Petunia could only dream about living in. It filled me with a spiteful kind of glee. 

"So where are we staying?" I asked casually. 

"My late uncle Alphard's penthouse," Sirius announced grandly, "He bought it with his money secretly to spite the family, and when he died, left all his belongings to me. Including the house." 

A penthouse. Take that, Petunia. 

"Ideally, you should be in Potter Manor," Remus continued, unknowing of my internal celebration of victory over my aunt, "But nobody here can access that until you turn fifteen." 

"Let's see the penthouse then," I said. 

"That's the spirit, Prongslet!" 

Sirius began a tour of our current residence and… Wow. We really were loaded, huh. 

There were two levels. Below, there was the living room, a modest kitchen, and a library (yay!) that also doubled as a study. Upstairs, there was Sirius and Remus' room – upon seeing which I said, "I knew you were married!" 

"Sita, we're really not–" 

"Oh so you're in denial," I nodded sagely, as if that explained everything. "You'll get there eventually." 

Then, there was an empty guest room. 

At the third room, Sirius opened the door dramatically, and with what I can only describe as jazz hands said, "Ta-da! Welcome to your room." 

I stepped in, looking at it in awe. The walls were decorated in a cool light blue with golden highlights. The bed was huge, and I couldn't possibly fathom how they thought this was for one person. There was a bedside table with a lamp and a framed picture of my parents on their wedding day (they looked so happy). The ornate floor length mirror had fairy lights. There was another, larger desk with drawers that I assumed was for schoolwork and the like. 

I hurried forward to check if one of my guesses was correct. 

"Is this a walk-in closet?" I tried not to squeal. I probably failed. 

"Only the best for my goddaughter," Sirius shrugged, "Although I don't think it's been filled enough yet. That's fine, I'd rather go shopping with you." 

"I will hold the bags," Remus volunteered, a little too eagerly. 

"Nope," I turned around, "You are also coming shopping." 

Remus paled. Sirius gave me a high-five. 

It didn't slip my eye the way the decorations were in the colours I liked, that there was already a picture of my parents, that there was the walk-in closet I had very offhandedly mentioned wanting (I didn't even know how they remembered, I sure didn't), that there was another table ready specifically for the small altar I told Sirius I had... it all pointed to one thing, really. They'd prepared this especially for me. This was my room, in every sense of the word. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat before I started sobbing again. 

"I think you need some rest today, but I hope you're ready to have your mind blown by Sirius Black special lasagne–" 

"You burned toast just this morning, mutt–" 

"He's such a hater, don't pay attention to him–" 

"Do you even know how to boil water–" 

I hid a laugh behind my hand. Yes, I'd be fine.

Notes:

sirius and remus: *old married couple*
sita: *notices immediately*
sirius and remus: *somehow don't notice this.*

Chapter 14: Monopoly And Chaotic Decisions

Summary:

sita gets to be a stress-free little chaotic queen for a bit.

Notes:

in today's chapter, sita is stress-free and i am most certainly not. nobody warned me how much this year would start monopolizing my time. i want time to do things for myself that bring me joy too damn it. regardless, due to these highly unfair reasons, we are coming to the end of my prewritten stuff without any more prewritten stuff ready as backup. two to three chapters later, i might just end up uploading once i write.

"Grandmas!" I said, entering the house and taking off my coat. "How many crimes have we committed today?" 

Minnie raised an eyebrow in my direction, bemused. Behind me, I just sensed that Remus was sighing in fatigue and pinching his nose. 

"Not a criminal if they can't catch you," Poppy replied, without missing a beat. What a woman. 

Summer so far had been great. As promised, I went shopping with Sirius and Remus; we bullied Remus into getting new clothes for himself, a personal win. Sirius said, and I quote, 'no spending limit for you, Prongslet' after which I went on a warpath that left my closet very filled and happy. 

Of course, I was stingy enough to make sure that all of the casual clothes, and then some, had those charms that made sure they'd grow as I did. I wasn't going to go on a shopping spree every year. The three of us had movie marathons and pillow fights regularly. It was like staying over at your cool uncles, but permanently. 

Hermione called our roommates plus Padma Patil and Daphne Greengrass over for a sleepover too, that was pretty fun. We went from doing our nails at 9 PM to existentialism at 2 AM. At one point, we all started crying because one of us was crying and it created some kind of weird domino effect. I think I started crying first, that would make sense. 

Anyway, today we were visiting my grandmas for dinner and a game of Monopoly, as was decided beforehand. Let me just put it out there that Minerva McGonagall's cooking is to die for. Lovely. Yum. All the good adjectives. 

"So how's that side project going?" I asked, as I took my second serving of potatoes. 

"Well, Albus and the Ministry both have finally agreed on the necessity of it," Minnie began, before being interrupted by Poppy. 

"She gave them her patented disappointed stare until they agreed, she means." 

"Harsh, but fair," Remus winced. I guess he has been on the other end of that stare. I wouldn't know, I haven't ever seen it – she loves me the most, after all. 

"So, how are they going to do it?" Sirius questions. 

"I believe it's been decided that the muggle-born and raised children will be coming to London for fifteen days of lessons as a crash course to magical society before starting Hogwarts in September," Poppy answers, "They'll have some Ministry employee and hopefully a Hogwarts Professor work together in teaching them." 

Ah, the wonders of the Hogwarts rumour mill. Of my many, many projects in first year, I had casually planted the idea here or there about how it was just terrible and so very unfair that kids from non-magical backgrounds were taught nothing about magical society and just had to figure it out themselves. It was, indeed, a horrible system, and very clearly set in place to give the purebloods an advantage, and I hate that. So I planted the seed and watched my tree grow in the form of a rumour mill as slowly, but surely, students began to question it, questioning it so much that it reached the teachers who also began questioning it and it snowballed from there. 

I did nothing but talk about the unfairness of the system in a public place twice. The ripple effect took care of everything else. The administration wasn't completely incompetent, though, which is why there will be Intro to Magic 101 now (I admit, the first three years are trial years, but I trust the teachers to keep it going if nobody else).

It's kind of sad how little the magicals question their authority, but that's okay. I am, after all, very willing to make them. On the bright side, if I wanted to stage a takeover, it would be really easy. 

We finished our food, and then did the dishes and cleaned the table, after which everyone sat down on the floor of the living room, ready to fight. Monopoly went a little bit like this: 

"You can't put an ex-convict in jail, that's so unfair!" 

"My undying love for you is not enough for me to show mercy, Padfoot." 

Also,

"Oh dear," said Poppy, "I'm in debt." 

Two minutes later.

"I declare bankruptcy!" 

"Sita, you aren't bankrupt." 

"Declaration has nothing to do with the truth." 

"That's highly immoral of you." 

"Yeah, and you're in jail." 

Meanwhile, Minnie bought another hotel. Remus had to pay her more rent. I slowly got out of bankruptcy. 

And the end… 

"Behold, your ultra-capitalist leader!" I announced, "It took me some time and a few tears, and yet here I am, the only one not in debt or in jail, and in fact, quite rich." Remus hung his head in shame. "How did I get here, you may wonder? Let me enlighten you! You see, while you were arguing over jail, debt and the state of your marriages–" 

"Pup, we aren't married." 

"As I was saying, while you were arguing over those things, I struck like a venomous viper in the dark, and indeed, as no one was looking–" 

"I called you a monster three times." 

"–I gathered my strength, and became your victor and gracious overlady." 

Victory felt nice, I thought with an evil cackle. 

"Shall we play another round?" I offered. 

"No!" Minnie all but screeched. 

Dare I say, we had a fun time. 

Afterwards, Sirius and Remus gave me a very emotional goodbye (they did this every time I was away from them for more than an hour, I dread to think what my Hogwarts send-off will be), and left me in the care of my amazing grandmas for the time being. I would stay over for the night, and then they'd help me get ready for my first big social event. 

Keeping in mind that I was eleven, I couldn't go all-out with a lehenga yet. Besides, the day I did go all-out, I wanted all eyes on me and today was not going to be that day. Yeah, I was a little vain, what can you do? Regardless, my sharara was just as beautiful. It was a soft mint green with golden embroidery, handmade of course. I decided to pair it with a few delicate jewellery pieces, styled my dupatta, and floo'ed to Nott Manor. 

I didn't fall flat on my face, but it was a close thing. Daphne was there to catch me, my dearest saviour who was extremely aware of how shit I was at wizard transportation. 

"Stunning, as always," my cousin complimented. 

"Certainly never as stunning as you," I threw back. 

The vanity was probably a family trait, because she didn't contradict it. We walked into the ballroom arm-in-arm, before I was immediately accosted by the cute little bean who was also our host's son. 

"Theo, light of my life," I began grandly, "Show me where to create my chaos." 

"What are we," Daphne muttered to Blaise, "Shredded cabbage?"

Ignoring that. The two of us moved forward, talking to various people about various topics, while also planting my favourite seeds. Academic revolution. 

"Did you know Hogwarts taught healing? It seems like a bad idea to cut it out, what with Quidditch and magical accidents." 

"I, for one, have always believed that one must know one's history! Professor Binns doesn't help, though." 

"You know, Sita mentioned how terribly disappointed she was when she learned that Hogwarts stopped offering any extracurricular courses. Don't Beauxbatons and Durmstrang both have those?"

What beautiful chaos we caused, slowly swaying the room to our ideals as our friends watched on in horror. After all, there was a reason they'd put one person on Sita and Theo duty, but that person ditched – in fact, I think Neville was drinking apple cider in the corner, hiding from everyone else, and oh look, Parvati was with him – and we? We were glorious. 

By the time I went back home, I was exhausted, but happy. A fun night out with my friends, working on my education revolution, and looking pretty? Favourite things to do.

Notes:

sita and theo: chaos gremlin energy unlocked
anyone who knows them: it's like some unholy trainwreck you KNOW you should stop but you're too terrified and just the tiniest bit intrigued and so you don't

neville: i'm just gonna stand here in a corner, drink my cider, and ignore my job.

poppy pomfrey: oh dear, i'm in debt. (i don't even need to incorrect-quote this, it does that on its own. poppy is iconic.)

Chapter 15: Just Some Cousin Chaos

Summary:

dahi handi, and the road to second year.

Notes:

hey! i'm still here! still living on the prewritten! having written a grand total of nothing for this fic, but i did post a perpollo ficlet and think about three different hp aus. but i also finished my project which is worth 25% of my grade for one subject, so yay for that. and have become slightly better at workload management. all is not lost!

explanations at the end notes.

The Patil home was beautiful. It was a townhouse, like Grimmauld, but significantly brighter. There were huge windows and bright colours and paintings all around. Padma explained how their mother was something of an art collector – paintings and sculptures specifically. She had good taste, which I openly told her. It made her very happy and also… vindicated? Eh. 

I was staying over at the Patils' until September 1st. Technically, I was called over for the Janmashtami celebration, but the date was so close to term starting that Mrs. Patil decided I was going to stay. It was so much fun. 

In the years of Dursley tyranny, I'd forgotten how wonderful it felt to actually celebrate festivals. All five of us went to the kitchens in the morning of the day before and made the sweets that would be given as offerings. Padma, Parvati and I also got to draw the baby footprints from the doorstep till the prayer room. These were, specifically, the Patil traditions. 

After Mr. Patil's father, my great-uncle, came into their family, some of the Potter traditions had also been incorporated. One such tradition was singing hymns until the midnight of Janmashtami. 

Doing it almost made me cry of joy. It was a close thing, I assure you. This… This was something my family had done for generations upon generations, something that I had been robbed of for my entire childhood because of two grown men playing with people's lives like they were chess. Some of the hymns I knew, some I didn't, but nothing can deny that it made me happy. 

Unbelievably, unimaginably, happy. Safe, even. 

Once the clock struck midnight and it was officially Janmashtami, all of us took turns feeding the idol some of the sweets. Thank you, I said while it was my turn, remembering the Infirmary Incident. And then, to bed with us. 

"Appa has always managed to get the dahi handi first," Parvati confessed, "But we try every time." 

"Well, this time you have a secret weapon," I announced, "Me." 

And so they did. All three of us snuggled in the covers together and I set the alarm to early morning. Competitiveness is a trait I've long since learned to be proud of. 

This time, I didn't dream of murdered chairs or detective tables. Rather, I dreamed of a beautiful forest. It was lovely, the trees were strong and their leaves were so green, and the water was sparkling. Everything from the waterfalls to the lush greenery was ethereal, and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, I think I saw the most beautiful woman in existence. 

The alarm woke us all, and I mentally grumbled about being torn away from the cocoon of warmth and safety, before remembering why the alarm woke us. 

"Padma!" I whispered, "Parvati!" 

Parvati bolted upright immediately, "We're getting that matka today." 

"Damn right we are," Padma agreed. 

Tiptoeing quickly around the house while also being careful not to cause any noise was more difficult to do than we thought it would be, but we managed. If one was spying into the Patil residence at six in the morning, they might notice three girls slowly passing the prayer room, and lifting their fingers to their lips in sync in front of the idol, before disappearing into the living room. Something told me Madhav was laughing about it. He was playful like that.

The pot of makhan was nowhere to be found. 

"No, no, no," Parvati mumbled, "Not again." 

Internally, I wilted a little. 

Padma slapped both our arms lightly, and then pointed to the ceiling. Right there, in all its glory, hanging from the ceiling, was the makhan we were planning to steal. 

A bit more challenging, perhaps, but still not out of the realm of possibility for us. 

"If we move the table a little to the left…" I trailed off. 

"And if one of us stands on two people, then we could do it," Padma decides, determined. 

Parvati and I tried our best to move the table without a single sound. Padma worked on getting the soft carpets around us, so that nobody went splat, and then gave me the knife she nicked from the kitchen to cut off the ropes. 

The twins got on the table, and then it was my turn. I took a deep breath, hoping this would work, and climbed on their backs. 

Please work, please work, please work. 

The amount of fear I felt while cutting the ropes was indescribable. Like yes, Tilly the house-elf was with us for safety precautions, so we'd be fine, we just didn't take her help for the spirit of it y'know? But if I slipped, or if the matka slipped– I didn't want to think about it. 

I'm pretty sure Parvati was mentally grumbling about how long I took in cutting the ropes, but I was trying my best to be cautious from all angles. It worked in my favour, of course, when the pot of makhan was free from its confines and held tightly within my arms. Carefully, I climbed down from the twins' backs to the table, and from there to the soft rug. 

"Clear," I declared. 

Padma whooped quietly, and then we opened the pot. Yep, makhan there. It wasn't a decoy. 

"We really should be feeding this to Govind first," Parvati said. Both of us agreed fully with that sentiment, so off to the prayer room three kids went, 'stolen' makhan in hand. First we fed it to him, and then off we went to the kitchens, ready to dig in. 

Where are your spoons, you may ask. 

Fools, I say, utter fools. We will eat this by hand, obviously, like god – quite literally – intended. 

Mr. and Mrs. Patil walked in on us, and my aunt just sighed. My uncle though… He definitely whined about it at least a little. After all, he had an unbroken winning streak before I came along and it was gone now. Victory was ours. 

We spent the rest of the day celebrating via singing and dancing, and by the time it was time to go to bed, none of us could even voice our 'five more minutes' protest. We were simply that tired. 

The next two days before September first were filled with a haze of playing games, bonding, and also packing from time to time. 

Once we looked through our supplies list, Padma mentioned how there was a new mandatory subject for the first and second years. Magical Theory. I may or may not have whooped rather loudly in the privacy of my room and had a tiny victory dance. Theo and I's little chaos at the ball had clearly not gone unnoticed. In fact, it was noticed enough that immediate changes to Hogwarts curriculum had begun. It was in no way going to be a quick and easy process, but it was there, and that was what mattered most to me. 

Neville also sent me a very accusing 'did you have something to do with this new subject' letter. How rude, godbrother mine. I casually replied, well you shouldn't have gotten off Theo and Sita duty, don't you think?  

Theo sent me a letter of congratulations and a promise of many more such successes. 

The morning of September 1st was deliciously chaotic, not in the least because Sirius and Remus came by floo and kissed the floor early in the morning. Then the twins ran around figuring out whose stuff was where – it really was scattered all over the house. Mr. Patil lost his glasses three times. 

Above it all were Mrs. Patil and I, both of whom were well-prepared. The older woman had woken up at the crack of dawn, finished anything she had to, and was casually sitting on the sofa, drinking chai, waiting for everyone to stop panicking. I was also on the sofa, drinking my own cup of chai, with all my trunk ready and Riddle sleeping on my lap. The good thing about being paranoid about missing the train? You pack your things the night before. 

Remarkably, we managed to be at the station before the train took off, all in various states of 'put-together', not a single glance suggesting how much panic had seized most of us just minutes prior. 

"Now, remember, Prongslet," Sirius was saying, "One detention at least."  

"Padfoot, stop being a bad influence," Remus sighed. 

"Well, she needs one of those too!" 

"I'm right here, princesses, flirt later." I said dryly, taking great pleasure in the way they both turned red, "As for the detention… nope! If I'm doing stuff, I'm not getting caught." 

"Sounds Slytherin of you." 

I shrugged. "Eh, detention is boring. Takes away precious reading or chaos time." 

"At least a few pranks?" Sirius begged. 

"...Okay. A little." 

Then the three of us got on the train, found our usual compartment, and I went to nap. Of course, I did not get that nap, because the rest of our friends came bustling in. Ron challenged me to another game of chess; I lost, naturally, but I'd improved a bit so it was less humiliating than the first time we played. Daphne was doing Lavender's hair, while Hermione and Padma were reading their Magical Theory textbook. 

Just like the last time we were in this train – then to come home for summer – the compartment was filled with chatter, laughter, and the occasional Exploding Snap. 

"I heard Gilderoy Lockhart is the new Defense Professor, can you believe it?" Fay was saying. 

Oh lord, not this guy. I'd forgotten about him. 

…And the basilisk. 

Fuck.

Notes:

lore: janmashtami is the celebration of lord krishna's birth. dahi handi is part of the celebrations, where a team tries to get to a pot (matka) of homemade butter (makhan) that is strung up somewhere high, usually by making a pyramid and climbing on each other. sort of like a tribute to baby lord krishna and his friends stealing makhan, a recurring theme in his childhood stories.
madhav and govind are both names of lord krishna; madhav can either mean "sweet one" or "husband of mother lakshmi", meanwhile govind has three translations, "protector of cows", "protector of the vedas", or "protector of the earth".

small hint, when i wrote about the dream, the words "vandevi, vaidehi" had gotten stuck in my head. now go research, children.

mr patil: *unbeaten record*
sita: i'm going to ruin this man's career (affectionate)

Chapter 16: Welcome to Other People Angst (TM)

Summary:

four people. one binding factor. or, an interlude.

Notes:

wow i got some time. that's beautiful. i feel alexander hamilton's "running out of time" so deeply these days.
man, i miss when saturdays were a holiday. when i got a full weekend. distant dreams of the past. be a good student, they said. it will be great, they said.

anyway! enjoy the interlude!!

When Percy Weasley was eleven years old, he heard other kids bad mouthing his family. He heard talk about how they were poor, or that his father was a muggle-loving fool, or – most famously – how they had 'more kids than they can afford'. It made him so incandescently angry, he wanted to punch them, duel them, anything, but he knew he couldn't. He was a little firstie, smart but not all that great in terms of raw power, and how many of them could he take anyway? 

Mum wouldn't like it if he began fights before his first term even ended. 

But the more he heard, the harder he studied in retaliation. See, Percy had a plan. He would study hard, he would get remarkable and most of all, noticeable grades, and work his way up in the Ministry. He was going to become someone important (he fancied the idea of Minister of Magic, to be honest), someone so incredibly important to the community that nobody could say bad things about his family. Weasleys weren't inferior, and he'd make sure everyone knew that. 

But as his Hogwarts years progressed, his plan wasn't helping much. Oh, the teachers liked him, their model student. The majority of the student body called him names for being a diligent student. His siblings… 

Sometimes, he thought his siblings hated him. It was uncharitable of him to think so, he knew, and besides, they probably didn't hate him. Maybe they loved him deep down, but at the end of the day, he was still the least favourite sibling. It stung, but it couldn't be helped. 

Percy the Prefect, Percy the favourite, proper son, Percy the obedient and well-behaved… He could see how his younger brothers chafed against the comparisons. Can't you see I have to do this? He wanted to scream, Can't you see I'm like this for you?  

Then… Then Sita Potter happened. By all accounts, she was decidedly not the girl people expected. Percy reasoned that she was hidden away for ten years, so no one could possibly determine how she would be anyway. What Percy could not get, however, was her stubborn desire to include him in everything. 

She asked him to help her for directions. 'Accidentally' made him sit with his brothers regularly. Came to him, specifically, for help with schoolwork, despite him being a semi-pariah of Gryffindor house for his 'Perfect Prefect' tendencies, even though there were tons of other people available. Did he mention she set up situations that forced him to bond with his brothers who probably didn't like him anyway? 

"Percy?" Ron approached, "I'm not understanding what this Potions essay wants." 

Percy stared at him for a moment. Ron never asked him for help with anything. Potter winked from where she was reading some muggle book. 

"Sure," he said, throat strangely dry, "Show me what your material is." 

And Percy Weasley would never admit it, but for once, being included by his little siblings meant the world to him. 

---

Theodore Nott never had a lot of friends. He didn't expect that to change once he was in Hogwarts. It was just him and Blaise and the halls of an old magical castle, and that was enough. 

And then Daphne Greengrass sat opposite them and held out her hand. Blaise took it without question, quickly, like most things in his life, but Theo… wasn't sure. What if she came and decided she'd like to befriend Blaise but not him? What if Blaise decided he liked that idea? It was ridiculous, Theo and Blaise, Blaise and Theo – it had been that way since they were toddlers. But Blaise wanted to be her friend, so for him, Theo cautiously took her hand. 

Daphne, as it turned out, did not want to steal Blaise away or anything like that. Originally, she confessed, she'd come to them because they were separate from Malfoy's frankly embarrassing attempt at holding court and it was her way out. Then they grew on her. 

The troll scared him more than he'd like to admit. 

Two days after the troll, Sita Potter herself approached them, with Padma Patil next to her. Patil introduced them, and then let Potter talk.

"I heard about what happened with the troll," Potter said, "I- uh, I hope you're not injured, and– and that you're doing better." 

"I am in much better spirits," Daphne answered evenly. 

Potter brightened. "That's great!" and then, "A few of us, we gather at the abandoned Transfiguration classroom on the fourth floor, if you three want to join?" 

Daphne narrowed her eyes. Potter's face slowly began falling. 

Theo knew that face. Theo knew that hope and expression, of trying to befriend someone and the guilt and hurt of failing. He saw it in himself so often.

"Of course, we'll join!" he answered. Blaise agreed because he's going, and where one goes, so too does the other. Daphne considered it for a few more moments before saying alright.  

Sita Potter may have befriended a fourth of their year now, but no one knows what happened before Hogwarts. Theo can see, though, that her desire is earnest and she holds nothing against any house whatsoever, so what's the harm? 

He thinks of five-year-old Theo who tried and failed at making any friends in galas at all, and the same face on Potter. 

At least someone here will appreciate his unique love of chaos now. 

---

Parvati Patil did not know why her cousin never contacted them. She heard about the great 'Girl-Who-Lived Sita Potter', who apparently defeated Voldemort as a baby and ended the terrible war. 

Her parents said she was family. If she was family, then why had they never met her? Ammi said it must be a safety concern, that she was probably hidden away so that evil wizards didn't find and get her, that they'd meet in Hogwarts. Padma decided that was reasonable enough. For the time being, Parvati dropped it. 

Then, they finally met. During the Start of the Year Feast at Hogwarts. Parvati isn't exactly proud of the fact that they didn't talk immediately, mostly because she herself was afraid and told herself Potter maybe didn't want to talk. But she smiled at her when Parvati helped her, so maybe there was something else? She decided to ask about it once they were ushered up to their dorms. 

We're cousins–

We are?  

That, that hurt. Not in the sense that Parvati felt slighted by her cousin, no, but as she heard what had happened, she felt hurt on behalf of her. How dare they? How dare they throw away a child, barely a toddler, in the hands of people who hated her, who would never understand, when there were perfectly viable candidates available? The genealogy was recent enough that a good number of people knew of the relations, certainly enough that Dumbledore would know, and yet… 

The most prominent cousins were, of course, the Greengrasses and the Patils. The former, Parvati guessed, was because of their reputation of being a majorly Slytherin (if neutral) family and the idiotic prejudice against it. But why not them? Parvati can see the image then, the three of them growing up together, loved and cherished, as sisters, but that was apparently not the best case scenario. No, the place chosen for her to 'thrive' (smother, more like) were them.  

Sita may pretend that she was unbothered, but she knows better. She heard the hitch in her cousin's breath, felt the tremor in her hands, and decided. She would, from that moment forth, become Sita Potter's staunchest protector, and if anyone hurt her? Parvati was eleven, not incompetent. 

It's two weeks into this newfound arrangement that Sita's other best friend, Neville Longbottom, confronted her. 

"She's my sister," he said, challenging glint in his eye, as if daring Parvati to hurt their shared best friend's feelings. 

Her lips slowly curled into a victorious smile. An ally. Perfect. 

"She's my sister too," Parvati said, equally stubborn. Longbottom came to the same conclusion. 

Parvati reflected on this win. She had gotten herself a true ally, one who was firmly in the Protect Sita Potter League and also someone who completely understood the height of her… particular chaos. Padma tried, she really did, but being in different houses and therefore having different schedules and common rooms changed a lot. 

And if she got herself a friend out of it? Added bonus. 

"Drink your nutrient potions," Parvati ordered. 

"Don't wanna," Sita whined. 

She revised her decision. Protector, best friend, and occasional babysitter. 

"Drink them or I'll call Lavender." 

"You're mean," her cousin accused, before pinching her nose, closing her eyes, and gulping the potions down in record time. 

"We could always ask Ammi to feed you Chavanpraash." Padma offered casually, "It's good for your health." 

Parvati shuddered. That taste… 

"Please do," she heard Sita say. Of course she'd say that. 

---

Filius Flitwick has taught many, many students in his tenure as Charms Professor. He has been keen to learn of the world around him for about as long as he has been alive, a thirst the Sorting Hat clearly saw before putting him in Ravenclaw. 

Of course, it wasn't as easy as that. Filius was half-goblin, a fact that the vast majority of his peers never let him forget. He had very openly been called a filthy half-breed in these very halls, and he knows – the way one knows the grass is green or the water is wet – that the moniker persists still behind closed doors. That such words are unfit to place upon a respectable, beloved Professor does not mean the sentiments are gone. 

But… he also remembers – much more vividly – being defended by his peers over this. Most prominently one Fleamont Potter, mad as a hatter but a veritable Potions genius, and a great duellist to boot, who always had a hex at the ready for anyone willing to disparage Filius. The man was a few years his elder, but still a cherished friend, his efforts never forgotten. 

Even when Fleamont graduated, his brother continued the legacy so to speak. Raghu Potter was actually Filius' own classmate and dormmate, so they were even closer than Fleamont and Filius had been. In fact, he had great fun teasing his friend about his increasingly desperate attempts throughout the seven years to woo one Maitreyi Patil, something that bore fruit… eventually.  

So yes, he had many memories in these halls, good and bad, and with his love of learning, is it any wonder he came back? He admits he might have been far more lenient on James Potter, perhaps, in the interest of long-held bonds. 

And Lily Evans… He had never seen another like her, and though he wishes he meets another similar rare jewel, he doesn't hold out much hope. It's the kind of talent found once in a century or two. If Filius could adopt that girl and give her all his life savings, he would have. 

All this, in the end, leads to the matter of their sole remaining Potter descendant – Sita, the girl he utterly failed, if what Minerva and Poppy claim is true. And he's never known them to be liars. 

He should have done more. Should have asked Dumbledore, positively pestered him in inquiries. Perhaps even sneaking in to check himself! Anything better than the complete stain he left on Lily's legacy, than not showing up when the granddaughter and great-niece of his greatest defenders needed protection. How much had Flitwick thought of the tiny Potter since that fateful Halloween? The sadness of the Potters' passing, and the occasional excitement of how much sooner he could meet her. Not much more, he's certain.

Sita Potter had her mother's fire and her grandfather's chaos bottled up into one damnably small figure, and Filius was determined not to fail her a second time.

Notes:

me: (sees percy) (immediately decides to give him Angst and Layers beyond that bureaucracy boy)

theo: (expertly sees through sita's hidden angst)
theo: adopt immediately. mine now.

parvati: i am head of sita protection squad. i will fight you.
neville: i am head of sita protection squad. i will fight you.
parvati: allies?
neville: yes please.

flitwick, about lily: that one. i want that one. my new daughter-
flitwick, about fleamont: what a great man... he was insane... i respect him so much
flitwick, about raghu potter: my bestie!!!!
flitwick, about james: you get some leniency on account of how awesome your parents and uncle were
flitwick, about sita: i have failed you. FAILED. (extreme guilt commences)
-(he has a totally normal relationship with this family)-

Chapter 17: Potatoes? Yes. Lockart? Not Recommended.

Summary:

we're back to see the wizards!

Notes:

here we are my fellow hogs... the last chapter of the prewritten... after this i will have to fight and claw my way through a new chapter. i took the day off because sick and wrote half a paragraph. i'm very proud of myself. at least the day didn't end in a crashout. gotta look at the positives.

The sorting was nice. I paid attention because one must know one's juniors, of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that dinner hadn't been served yet. The last kid was Ginny Weasley, who got into Gryffindor, and I thanked the universe that this time, she'd have a proper Hogwarts experience without being possessed by Diary Tom Riddle. Colin Creevey with his camera introduced himself to me as soon as he got a seat on the table – sweet kid, if excitable, and very adoption worthy. I liked him. 

This time, no feast confusion, because the house-elves knew me! Yay! I also tried my best to not look at the utter disgrace on the Staff Table, Fraud-hart gave me the ick. Daphne caught my eye from across the tables, flicked her brows to him, held eye contact with me, and made gagging gestures. I responded in kind. At least someone here agreed with me (yes, I was still salty about Hermione talking about how amazing the guy was). Don't worry, the truth shall be revealed to my minions soon. 

The Magical Theory Professor was better, some lady named Calpurnia Roberts. She seemed stern, but kind, sort of like my grandmas in nature. Decidedly unlike our new Defence Professor, who was less useful than a sack of potatoes. 

Potatoes would be better, frankly. 

As for the basilisk, well… I could rooster my way out of it, right? But that's only possible if I still have parseltongue, allowing me to open the chamber. But. I didn't want to kill the basilisk. Senseless killing is never good, and hurting animals makes me feel all icky. 

But it killed a student, you say. Which, fair. I'll give you that. Consider, however, that it was done under Riddle's influence, possibly with him using magic and status to overpower the snake's free will. If Slytherin helped found the school, it would be stupid for him to want to kill students – more likely, it was propaganda. I read iterations suggesting the basilisk was there to protect Hogwarts instead, and personally, that seems more likely. 

Of course, all of this musing can only bear fruit if I know I can actually enter the Chamber of Secrets. Otherwise this is pointless. 

Anyway, that's too much work for my first day. I'm just going to sleep, since lectures start tomorrow itself. Why can't September 1st be on a Saturday for once in seven years? 

(I know it's only the second year. Shush.) 

Naturally, I woke up to Parvati shaking me awake, saying, "Breakfast! Schedules!" 

"Five more minutes," I whined, burrowing deeper into my blanket burrito. 

"I will pull your blanket and let you fall to the floor." 

See how cruel she is to me? You become closer to your cousin in one year and the next she's already bullying you. Padma wouldn't– nevermind. Daphne wouldn't treat me like this. 

As I inhaled chai into my soul, I saw snacks on the table. Dry breakfast snacks on the table. My eyes gained an almost feral gleam, as Hermione slowly scooted away. One of the first years (Ophelia?) stared in curiosity. 

My time has come. 

I started dipping the biscuit and papdi in the chai before having them. I poured my chai in the saucer, and then mixed it with ghaatiya. When I saw the khakhra and banana chips, I almost cried in joy. I also took a waffle for dessert, because waffles.  

Minnie looked at all this transpiring, faintly amused, as she handed me my schedule. Transfiguration first thing in the morning, followed by Magical Theory, and then lunch. Next was double Potions, followed by Charms being the last lecture. Not the worst we could do, but now I had the ingrained fear of Herbology and Defence being together– oh look, that would happen tomorrow. Damn. 

I skipped over the Transfiguration classroom arm in arm with my little lions. Came face to face with Draco Malfoy. 

"Last year was a fluke at best," he hissed at me. "You can't beat me this time." 

Over anything else, I might have been calm. I might have been collected. I might have waved away his attempts with some cold shoulder and a well-placed snarky comment. But this? Questioning my academic power? It would not stand. Not in this household, not ever. 

"You wish, you piece of traditionalist bigotry wrapped in useless silverware. I reign supreme," I countered. 

"We shall see," he sneered. 

"We shall." 

"Are you quite done with the posturing?" Daphne asked from behind Draco. "Some of us would like to actually sit in the class." 

"But of course," I smiled graciously, and went in, but not before baring my teeth at the ferret one last time. 

Academic competition is healthy, okay. Keeps you on your toes. Besides, having him as a nemesis in terms of schoolwork instead of whatever the fuck canon Harry was doing can only be good. It would still keep the spirit of the legendary Potter-Malfoy rivalry without sneaking into illegal territory. Also, I liked provoking him. 

Minnie entered the class. Gave me a barely perceptible smile that only someone who really knew her could see. Promptly began lecturing. No introduction, no 'welcome back' or 'so you made it to another year', nothing, just plain old syllabus. I loved her so much. Efficiency, my beloved. A few people didn't like it, but oh well, not my problem. 

My results were, of course, flawless. Not only did I have talent and spite-fuelled determination, I'd also spent half the summer in a haze of revision. I think Sirius fears me. My results were also better than Malfoy's, to which I crowed in victory. Daphne judged me, but that's fine, she judges everyone. Neville gave me a thumbs up. Ron was barely keeping himself from laughing. 

Malfoy glared at me, and went back to his pin-cushion with a ferocity that made Pansy scoot a tiny bit away from him. 

We then went over to the new classroom assigned for Magical Theory, which we had with the Hufflepuffs. Another chance to continue my passion project, I decided, before seating myself right next to Susan Bones. 

"Oh hello," Susan said, "Is everything alright?" 

Once again, I bemoaned how divided Hogwarts was. Outwardly, I was perfectly cheerful. 

"Yes, of course! I could sit with my friends, but then I'd lose out on the opportunity to make even more friends." 

Susan blinked. "You want me to be your friend?" 

"Now you're getting it." 

"I don't go anywhere without Hannah." 

"The more the merrier!" I responded, mentally rejoicing at yet another addition I got without needing to even do anything, "Being friends with me means complete access to the rest of the friend group. All of us." 

Susan shifted closer to me tentatively. "I'd like that." 

Success! 

That was the end of that particular conversation, because Professor Roberts chose that exact moment to enter, with a composed, "Good morning, class." 

We echoed the sentiment. 

"Right then, is everyone settled? Because these will be your seats for the rest of the year, and twenty percent of your final grade is going to be based on a project with your partner." 

Neville, sitting next to Parvati for once, turned an amusing shade of red. The world was a wonderful place indeed. Maybe he'd even get the confidence to hold a full conversation with Parvati with no stuttering without any buffer between them. Megan Jones looked at Zacharias Smith with the level of disgust one might associate with a snail covered in neon green slime. 

I locked eyes with Susan and we made a mental pact: we were going to ace this project. 

"Now, as you may know, my name is Calpurnia Roberts. I will be your Magical Theory Professor until Fifth Year, which would be your last year in the subject. In my class, I expect structure, dedication, and attention. The lack of it will only have negative consequences for you. We're quite behind in the subject, so we will begin as soon as I take the roll call." 

Indeed, I was right about Professor Roberts reminding me of Minnie and Poppy. They all had the same scary efficiency that I could only hope to perfect – she didn't even have some sort of reaction at my name, it was lovely. I was also right that Magical Theory itself was pretty interesting. I'm right about a lot of things, evidently. 

In Potions, Snape had gone back to ignoring my existence. One of the only good things about him was that he graded fairly, and my work was always precise and as close to perfect as a twelve-year-old could get – he hated it, but he couldn't give me anything less than an EE or an O. Flitwick was as awesome as ever, good man, total fav. 

Some of my friends wanted to go get snacks after that, so naturally all of us went to the Great Hall together, where getting evening snacks was an option. I wasn't all that hungry, so I refrained, but obediently opened my mouth whenever Lavender felt like stuffing some fruit into it. Good for my health, apparently. Instead, I took out a parchment and quill and began writing. 

Dearest Moony and Padfoot, 

Day One has proved to be a success. The new Magical Theory is a quick, no nonsense type, which suits me perfectly. Snape remains the same. We haven't had Defence yet, but it scares me anyway – I doubt Lockhart knows more than three spells. Yes, Remus, I did not stop studying the family finances, you can be proud of me. Anyway, now that the formality is over, I made a new friend… 

…And that's why Riddle now thinks eating the common room houseplants is an acceptable endeavour. I'd stop him, but it amuses me too much. 

Keep being happily married! Maybe one day you'll trust me enough to confess to me about it. 

Trying To Survive Another Year, 
Sita,
Official Marauder Heiress

Notes:

sukha naasta (dry snacks): *exist*
the gujju soul: MY PRECIOUS

sita whenever she sees a threat to her academic performance: and i will CRUSH you.

Chapter 18: Scheming? What Scheming? Just Look At My Innocent Face!

Summary:

scheming against lockhart, and sita gaining her footing as the local hogwarts cryptid. sorta.

Notes:

i feel like at this point i'm just projecting on my girl. naps? i want naps. i don't get them. so she does. actively fixing the problem of a teacher who can't teach? i am unable. she's actively doing it. the (spoiler)? i want it to happen so bad. i'm making her start on it as a project.

on the bright side, i actually had time to finish a chapter! and then i had time to create the vague direction of an outline with a plot! and i have an epilogue idea! i call this productive.

We still had mandrakes. I still killed mine on the first lesson. Instead of being in her usual territory of 'I'm slightly disappointed but I will encourage you anyway because I'm way too nice of a person', Professor Sprout looked baffled. 

"That's a mandrake," she whispered, "How does one go about just– that shouldn't be possible– how did you–" 

"I think plants just really, really hate me," I replied miserably. My imaginary bunny ears flopped downward like they do in cartoons. Hannah patted my shoulder in consolation. 

If I was a little less despairing of my failure, I might even laugh a little at the irony of it. I mean, one of the epithets of my namesake literally meant queen of the forest. Meanwhile, I was destroying every plant I touched. I would whine about it to my godfathers tonight. 

As if there wasn't enough to suffer in Herbology, the next lecture we had was Defence.  

Defence was… Defence wasn't even worth talking about. It was the cornish pixies lesson, his spell wasn't even a real spell – he'd just jumbled up some words, and they weren't even in Latin, they were English! – and then he just… ran? 

"Hermione," I said calmly, swatting away a rogue pixie, "Does this look like a great or competent teacher to you?" 

"Maybe we can talk about that after the pixie problem is done with!" Neville screamed, from where he was hanging on the ceiling. Oh dear. Yes, he did have a point, but also… 

"Megan, click a picture right now!" I ordered. 

"Of what?" she asked, ducking from a small pixie swarm. 

"Of the classroom. I have lawyers for a reason." 

Well, I didn't. My family had them. But, as the last living member of the family, they were technically my lawyers, and also, Mum would definitely approve of this idea. I know the Marauders would just prank him until he ran, and sure, a couple pranks weren't the worst, but… Lockhart was a criminal, wasn't he? He'd stolen people's memories against their will and claimed false credit for their achievements, profited off of lying to everyone about it, and was now putting my education in jeopardy.  

I'm putting this bitch in real jail. Azkaban is probably a human rights issue, to be fair, but I'll deal with that when I'm older. Priorities. Like I said, gotta get the educational revolution started first. Megan obeyed, thankfully, and soon, it became a schoolwide thing. 

Step 1: Click pictures of everything stupid/un-teacher-like Lockart does. 
Step 2: Send it through whatever chains have been created (I knew the rumour mill could be useful) 
Step 3: It ends up in the hands of one Miss Sita Potter. 

Megan Jones and Colin Creevey, my sweet, sweet enablers. 

By the time two weeks had passed, we had more than enough evidence to fire this guy. And also a bunch of incidents that made it easier for people to actually question how a wizard like this managed to 'do' the things he claimed to have done. It would be pitiful how incompetent he was if it wasn't working so beautifully in my favour.

Now… to get this to the press… 

A little firstie sidled up to me during lunch, and at that moment I thought, I am so dumb. Luna Lovegood, a pioneer of Awesomeness and Superpowers, and also a girl I had forgotten about. This was so bad. I felt so bad. Even in the pursuit of chaos, how could one forget the princess herself? 

"The nargles get to you sometimes, Sita Potter," she said airily, knowing what was going on in my brain through her sheer powers. 

"Any cryptic advice for me, Miss Luna?" I asked. 

"Since when do you both know each other?" Hermione asked, baffled. 

"Well this is the first time we've met in person," I answered, "But she came to me in a prophetic dream earlier talking about my ultimate destiny." 

Hey! What's the fun of having isekai advantages if you can't troll the people around you from time to time?

"Which is…?" Lavender trailed off. 

"Being a beacon of hope for magical education." 

"Of course," Seamus muttered, still not over the fact that I had added a new subject to his roster and was working on adding more. He just wanted to learn how to turn water into rum in peace and I keep ruining his plans with responsible decisions. Maybe if I told him alchemy would help further his plans… Hm, something to think about. 

"I've waited a long time to see your ascension to battling the wackspurts." 

I nodded solemnly. "I will not disappoint you."

Luna smiled. "I know." 

"So I guess we're not going to question this," Fay muttered. 

"I'm pretty sure most of us have already stopped questioning more than half the things she does," Dean whispered back. 

"Well," I saw Ron shrug, "It's Sita." 

Nobody added anything to that. Good to know my power was spreading. 

Just then, Susan Bones, ever bubbly, came up to me, and I was reminded that 1, her aunt worked in law enforcement, and 2, more importantly, the project.  

"I hope you don't mind if I monopolise Sita's time for the afternoon? Important project stuff, we'll be in the library," she addressed the general vicinity of second year lions. It would be sad that my friends needed to keep regular tabs on where I was, but I did end up with this new habit of taking naps in literally any corner of Hogwarts. I'd scared Daphne half to death once. 

The castle was big, okay. I got tired and lost sometimes, and a day's work was very tiring. Boarding school plus academic overachievement was no joke. Nap time was sacred and any time I got for it? Go for it. 

"I was thinking we could focus on Runes as a method of passing down theory texts," I offered, "There are a few ancient cultures who did that." 

"We don't have Runes till next year, though," Susan pointed out. I looked at her. She looked at me. I nodded, as if to say, exactly. "Ah. We're so doing this." 

Now, to find the cultures who did this… 

Madam Pince looked at the two second-years requesting for books on Runes of ancient civilisations, but since they weren't in the Restricted Section anyway, she let us pass with the usual warning to be quiet and maintain library discipline. 

The first book fully focused on Elder Futhark from the Norse, then there was stuff from Egyptian hieroglyphs (I'm not surprised), and of course, Ancient Greek, and then, a book on the Indus script. 

Susan looked at the last one and murmured, "It would be nice if we could understand that one." 

I blinked. The book. The Potter book. 

"I think… we have a chance." 

Lightning fast, her face turned to me. "How?"  

"Um… My family book is written in Sanskrit, but like, there's other stuff too. I'm going to reach the family history part this week." A pause. "And I am very sure I saw similar symbols while flipping through it earlier." 

"You know if we figure this out it could be revolutionary, right?" 

I blinked in confusion. "It would?" 

"People have been trying to decipher the Indus script for centuries!" 

"I don't think we'd be able to do the whole thing, though," I mentioned, "I mean. This is huge. There are lots of runes. The meanings can be disputed. Also, we're twelve." 

"I think we'd get extra credit even for deciphering one paragraph." 

"You're the expert with that one," I shrugged. "So, how do we divide this?" 

"I'll research more on the history, the geography, and theory texts from civilisations like the Ancient Greeks or the Mesopotamians. You, my dear, dear genius, you translate the script. And once we have the information, we can start writing it down together." 

"That feels like I'm making you do more work. I feel bad." 

Susan stared at me like I was insane. "If that script is half as difficult for you to translate as it is for everyone else, the workload evens out."

"If you say so…" 

And so, I was safely delivered back to my lion friends during tea break. Started drinking a cup of chai. Was immediately accosted by Draco Malfoy. 

"Well, well, if it isn't–" 

"Oh my goodness, Malfoy," I sighed, "It's like you have nothing better to do in your life. Please stop. The only person being embarrassed here is you." 

"Why, you–!" 

"I am helping you!" I interrupted again. "Find something productive to do with your time, I swear. Are you mad because I'm still better at Charms?" 

At this point he made his cute, baby ferret-like noises, huffed like the spoiled rich boi he was, and left. 

"You're my hero," Blaise said solemnly. 

I did an appropriate hairflip. "Well, of course I am." 

Daphne gave an approving nod.

Notes:

draco: (rich boi bully things)
sita: oh my god this is so pathetic stop it

lockart: exists
sita: JAIL

Chapter 19: Am I A Workaholic? Eh. Don't Know.

Summary:

some family lore, some scheming, and ye old shenanigans.

Notes:

my little toffees, i did it!! i wrote and posted another chapter!! yay!! we're going slow, but at least we're moving. also looking at the overall word count, fingers crossed, this might be my first fic that could reach the average novel length. which is. so big for me, genuinely.

real life update: i bunked a day because i was too tired and wanted to stay home and somehow managed to finish MORE work than the teachers teaching at college. then i went back because attendance. now i eagerly await the three day holiday we get because of the string of national holiday-national holiday-sunday. until then, wish me luck

lore point: the purusharthas are four aims/important points of hindu life; dharma, artha, kama, and moksha. i doubt there's going to be a lot of stuff related to them in the fic, so that's all i'm giving. unless, of course, you want more, in which case i am ready to talk in the comments.

This is a line born of Ikshvaku, who was the son of Vaivasvata Manu, son of Vivasvat Surya. Our first and foremost priority is our dharma, that is to do our duty, however difficult it may be. Therefore, here is a list of duties laid out to be taught to every child of the line:

1. To be unwavering in your faith and devotion, and to carry out one's prayers regularly and follow the instructions therein as explained later.

2. To follow righteously the Purusharthas

3. To serve, humbly, one's parents

4. To learn one's history, and to honour the ancestors

5. To learn properly the true theory of magic as laid out in the texts of Brahmi, daughter of Ikshvaku.

6. To uphold the values of integrity, honesty, righteousness, and faith.

This part of the family book wasn't new to me, technically. It was the first page. If you go to see, the book had been divided into four parts. In the first part, which I'd recently finished, I learned the family history right from the originator of the line till how we came to settle in England and the things we did on this soil. So, it was a lot of information. I was currently on the second part, which explained the whole prayer instructions. They weren't rigid as such, thankfully, so I would go on praying as I usually did, just with a few added parts to it. The third part, which I needed for the project, was the theory of magic as said through the Brahmi script. I was inclined to believe that she'd probably gotten it right. The fourth part was more like a list of family heirlooms.

Someone snapped their fingers in front of me. "Earth to Sita? Are you there?"

I looked up, startled, "Don't scare me like that!"

"It's the middle of the night," Parvati said disapprovingly, "Turn the lamp off and go to sleep."

"I'm not able to sleep," I mumbled. "Thought I'd catch up with work."

My cousin gave me a look as if to say, why are you like this? It might have also been a prayer for patience. I'm not sure. Knowing she could not snatch the book and then force me to sleep, because the book was enchanted for protection and could not be snatched away from the hands of a Potter, though for more anti-thievery reasons, Parvati tried a smarter approach. She pulled out her baby seal eyes.

"Please?" she said, "For me?"

I caved.

I dreamt of a king ploughing a field, when his plough hit against a gold chest. When he lifted it up and opened it, he saw the most beautiful baby girl, perhaps in the world, who he could swear up and down had a literal glow to her skin.

I woke up thinking. This was smiliar to a previous dream I had, possibly going along the same theme too. There was the vaguest sense that I knew this story, that I'd heard it being narrated many times. It was on the tip of my tongue yet out of my reach. Somehow, someway, I knew the baby girl and the woman were the same. I also knew that I knew her. It was the 'how' part that was evading me.

I was so distracted trying to recall just who I'd seen that I didn't notice when I bumped into someone. And fell. Because of course I did.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

I pawed for my glasses, found them (victory!), wore them and then looked up at who it was. Hufflepuff. Sandy brown hair. Hey, I know that face. Didn't Susan point him out once? Wait.

Cedric Diggory.

Fuck you, plot.

I'd so far spent my entire Hogwarts era so far (one academic year and half a month) avoiding him, for plot-related reasons, those being that he had been murdered brutally in canon and even if I might have prevented it, I don't know for sure and I just. Did not want to talk to him. Was he the only Hogwarts student that died in the original timeline? Of course not. Was he one of the few deaths described in detail, as far as I remember? Yes.

"I'm fine," I muttered, "Didn't look where I was going. Just lost in thought, I guess. Sorry."

He gave a charming smile. It was awful. "Hey, it's alright. Happens to the best of us," then, "Do you want a hand?"

Stop being so nice to me, I wanted to whine, it'll only make me feel worse if you end up dying anyway within the next two years like a miserable fixed point in time.

"No, I got it, you go ahead," was what I said instead.

He looked unsure, but respected my decision to want to avoid him for the rest of his life. Not that he knew. He just went to his— whatever class he had.

Anyway, when it was lunchtime, I skipped over to Susan, best project partner ever. I'd had a nice lunch, given that the elves had made gobi ki sabji, which I absolutely adored. Not to mention, their roti and chhaas was amazing as ever. I'd already made a mental note to go thank them later; today would be a stressful day, what with the 'finally having enough evidence to go to someone about Flophart'.

"Susan! How goes the project?" I greeted.

"Beautifully," she replied. "I'm done with the Greeks."

"And I got the theory texts we were looking for!" We high-fived. Then, I began explaining, "They're in the Brahmi script, which I can roughtly translate one to two pages of with how much I know right now. Is that enough?"

My friend blinked. "Enough? I can promise you it's more than enough. Plus, we also have comparisons with Greeks, Egyptians, Mesopotamians, Sumerians and the Norse, so it works out."

"Actually, I was meaning to talk to you about that."

"Yeah?"

"So, both Egyptians and Mesopotamians have a vague connection with the Indus river settlements. I'll need a bit more information, but it's definitely there. I can do those, so you work on what you get from the Greeks and Norse, which is probably going to be a lot. Sumerians… we'll see when we get there."

"Now that seems like I'm heaping work on you."

"We could do it together?" I offered.

"It's a compromise, then," she said, and we shook on it.

From across the table, Cedric Diggory waved enthusiastically at me like a puppy. I sent a weak wave back. There goes the 'avoid him forever' dream.

I could run off before he tried to talk to me, though, because it was Hogsmeade time, and that meant I had to brief our seventh-year prefects on the plan. It was perfect: they were legally adults, so they could go to the press on their own, and it was their N.E.W.T. year so nobody could blame them about being worried for their education under the useless turd we got. They were all prefects, so who would call them irresponsible liars? That would go against the status quo this world loves so much.

Get wrecked, Gilderoy.

The next morning, I looked so pleased with myself that everyone maintained at least a five inch distance from me. Except Parvati and Neville, who were more exasperated and whispered what did you do in my ear at least thrice.

The newspaper came. On it, the headline:

GILDEROY LOCKHART: HERO… OR LIAR?

I knew bribing Rita Skeeter would work out. See, Sirius? It's going great. Having at least one influential reporter in your pocket is very useful.

The next thing we knew, Aurors had begun investigating the Lockart case and lo and behold, he was actually definitely a criminal. Kudos to Penelope Clearwater and her ambition to be the youngest Head of the DMLE. She'd already begun practicing.

In the middle of it all, I got a letter from home. Huh. That was sweet. Getting letters from home. The idea of it made me emotional, before I quickly shoved some snacks into my mouth. Nope, nope, not crying over sappy stuff at the Great Hall table in front of these many students. I cry alone in bathroom stalls and that's it.

Dearest Prongslet,

How's it going over there? Terrorising the populace of professors, I see. I am slightly miffed that you haven't gotten a detention yet, but getting a teacher fired and arrested is pretty cool so we are going to leave you off the hook.

Ignore him, this is Remus. I am very proud of your hardwork in revealing what a fraud that bitch man is—

(Psst, this is Sirius, Remus has hated Lockart ever since he was a sixth year Ravenclaw who tried to dose me with a love potion, so he's counting this as a huge victory. Let him have this.)

ANYWAY, AS I WAS SAYING, we love you very much and you are an amazing young lady. Keep up the good work. Keep scheming and studying, know that we are extremely proud of you.

Sirius here, I am also extremely proud of you as it is but you know what would make even prouder? Dungbombs. In Filch's office. BOOM. But getting a fraud arrested is not so bad. I see your point about the whole 'press influence is useful', even though I'm still not sure about the methods.

Lots of love,
Padfoot and Moony

P.S.: Has Riddle stopped eating the common room plants yet?

It was funny, and chaotic, and everything I'd expect from my family. I bet they were writing with one quill that they fought over, that would explain the faint ink stains. Life went on, professors rotated in teaching us DADA until Dumbledore could find a decent replacement, and before I knew it, it was Shardiya Navratri.

Notes:

sita potter: (crying alone in bathroom stalls)
me: i'm totally not basing this off of someone i know. projection? what projection? i don't see any.

also lockhart having an unhinged crush on sirius during hogwarts years leading to remus having extreme levels of hatred for the man is so funny to me you do not understand. minus the love potion part, that's disgusting, but the rest of it is hilarious.

and yes, you'll get more on shardiya navratri next chapter. it's a festival, that's all i'm revealing right now. my gujju homies know that it is garba time.

Chapter 20: Navratri (But Much Earlier)

Summary:

a navratri chapter much ahead of schedule, with a heavy focus on the "hindu culture and religion" tag.

Notes:

mandatory personal life update (skippable if you aren't into whimsy):
my fav part of growing up is deciding that the proper spoken english isn't really All That anymore. unless, ofc, it's something like an interview, where it's necessary. but in daily life? it is much more fun when i decide to mix the language and then butcher it. on purpose. add an accent, use a phrase wrong. proper pronunciation? i know how to do that. but i won't. for the whimsy. for the rebellion. this isn't my first/second/third language. i do not care enough. i can do what i want and i've chosen the bright patch of wildflowers instead of the grey slab of concrete. and honestly? super freeing. long live daal dhokli.

now, the important part:
this chapter has an extremely heavy focus on hinduism. specifically, on hindu literature and beliefs. if that's a trigger for anyone, please proceed accordingly.

this is the navratri chapter y'all!!! i wanted to post it on the first day of shardiya navratri, but that's like a month away, and i can't wait that long, so here you are lovelies.
aarti is a form of hindu prayer, where we light a diya or a small fire along with gathering a bunch of other significant things, place it on a plate, and, by wikipedia definition, "rotate it clockwise in front of the idol". which okay, more or less. it's an important part of worship, and only occurs at specific times of the day.
garba is an amazing gujarati folk dance

ALSO! wishing everyone and ESPECIALLY my girl taylor a very very happy "taylor swift got engaged". i woke up to this news and i love that for me.

For most people, the 27th of September, 1992, was just another day. Not me, though. For me, it was the first day of a nine day festival that Potters celebrated with a lot of pomp. It wasn't that we didn't respect all the deities equally, because of course we did, but as the family history taught me, most magical families who claimed descent from the Indian subcontinent had a patron deity that they believed gave them the ability to access their magic.

For the Patils, it was Lord Venkateshwar, a form of Lord Vishnu. In case of the Potters, our patroness was Mahishasur Mardini, an aspect of the Devi. And Navratri was literally her festival, so it made sense the Potters would hold it in such esteem. I'd asked Sirius how Dad and my grandparents used to celebrate it, and got a bunch of teenage stories in return. That, along with the book, gave me an idea of how to proceed.

The first thing the Potters did, come Navratri, was to decorate their home. Obviously, since I didn't have access to said home just yet, and couldn't go back to my current home aka the penthouse for this, I settled for decorating my part of the dorm with flowers. Thankfully, that was the only part of celebrations I wasn't able to perform fully. Then, I set up a specific second altar for the duration of the nine days in the Room of Requirement (thank you, plot knowledge).

Navratri was also observed through a reading of and contemplation on the Devi Mahatmyam, a devotional text, over the course of the nine days. Alongside that, there would be two aartis, one in the early morning and one at night. The nightly aarti would be followed by a minimum of four rounds of garba dedicated to the goddess.

Speaking of garba, though…

"You called us here to learn how to dance?" Ron asked, confused.

"Not just any dance," I explained, "That wouldn't make sense."

"I'm still extremely confused," Blaise piped in.

"Well, you do garba during Navratri, and Navratri is typically celebrated with family, so I thought—" my voice caught. Shit. I hadn't meant to add emotions into this.

Something in Daphne's ice queen exterior softened. "Okay. How do you do it?"

Thus began the montage of me teaching my friends how to perform garba at least semi-functionally. Both Blaise and Lavender were instant prodigies, divas as they are. Theo was so determined to match Blaise's level, it was kind of cute to watch. Parvati and Padma already knew garba, courtesy of their Potter grandfather — in fact, watching Parvati help Neville was actually so sweet I didn't go towards them for any corrections on purpose. Ron and Seamus kept bumping each other. A lot. Constantly. Honestly, I was moved by how they refused to give up anyway, just for me. Might have shed a tear when nobody could notice.

That night, during the aarti, I would swear up and down that the flames were moving as though they had a personality of their own. It wasn't new to me. This was something I'd seen in my past life as well. Garba also went beautifully, and I had so much fun — I'd forgotten the joy of it in the eleven years I couldn't do it.

The next morning, Hermione came up to me during breakfast and asked me to narrate the story of Navratri and Mahishasur Mardini, to which I obviously agreed, because I love talking about these things. What I did not know until I entered the abandoned classroom that was our official hangout spot, was that Hermione had roped all of our friends into this. Okay. Okay, Sita, don't be nervous, this isn't even a crowd. It's your friends. They've carried your unconscious body to the hospital wing. Stop being nervous. Remember the excitement of narrating this to one person? Remember it. Fast.

I took a deep breath. Two. Three. Yep, I got this.

"The tale of Mahishasur Mardini is written down in the second part of the Devi Mahatmyam. Mahishasur was a half-buffalo demon who had the ability to change his outer forms, but would never change his demonic goals. He symbolises the rajas nature, of the three natures of man — this one meaning the quality or attribute of passion, which causes desire, attachment, etc. It manifests as greed, lust, anger, restlessness and agitation which blocks wisdom," I looked around, only to notice that everyone was enraptured. I loved them so much. "Mahishasur had gained the boon, through extreme penance, to not be able to be killed by any man or god. Assured that this made him immortal, he began terrorising the three worlds, and overthrew Lord Indra, the king of devlok, land of the devtas, or heaven."

"Wait, by 'no man or god', right?" Susan asked. I nodded. "And he was sure this made him immortal?" I nodded again. "Isn't that misogynistic?"

I winked. "He'll realise that later. So, the devtas, desperate, went to the holy trinity of Lord Brahma, Lord Vishnu, and Lord Shiva for a help. Thus, it was suggested that everyone present focus on what gives them strength and power, their inner shakti, and pour it out. When they did this, a goddesss appeared — a live personification of all the power in the cosmos, Adi Parashakti herself. She had long, flowing dark hair, many arms, and a divine light emanating from within her. All the deities gave her their astras, or weapons, and the mountain god Himavan gave her the lion Somnandi, her mount."

"She isn't a man or a god," Ron murmured, "There's always a loophole."

"And so, the goddess arrived on the battlefield. One by one, Mahishasur sent many of his forces to fell her, each contingent meeting different ends. They would be beheaded by her sword, or shot down by her arrows, or even defeated by her mount. When all of his forces were gone, Mahishasur stepped onto the battlefield, and began battling the Devi. He took many forms, changing into a new form as soon as she killed the previous one, as the Devi got progressively more enraged by his trickery. Finally, after a long battle, she was able to trap him beneath her foot and kill him. At that point, he tried switching his form to that of a human, but her power blocked him, making iconography about it appear as though he was half-man, half-bull. In this way, the Mahishasur was defeated, and the gods venerated the Devi as Mahisashur Mardini, meaning, 'the killer of the demon Mahishasur'."

"That isn't the end, right?" Padma recalled.

"The demon's dead though," Dean pointed out.

"Nope, there's more!" Parvati cheerfully intervened, then gestured for me to continue.

"As I was saying, when the gods venerated her, they were also confused. They asked her: 'Devi, you are supreme power personified, you could have destroyed all of Mahishasur's forces and even Mahishasur himself just through your own power in the fraction of a second, and yet, why is it that you waged a centuries-long battle?' To this, the goddess replied, 'I am not only the supreme power, I am also the mother of all living beings — and is a mother not merciful to her children? When I defeated these asuras (demons), it gave them the advantage of dying in battle, which will make it easier for them to attain heaven, and later, liberation'. At the end of this part of the Devi Mahatmyam, Lord Indra and the other devtas sang the Shakradaya Stuti, offering their obeisances to the devi, requesting her further protection, and praising her qualities and slaying of Mahishasur."

"And this battle and the subsequent victory is celebrated during Navratri, right?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," I responded, "It's celebrated as not only the victory of good over evil, although that's a significant aspect, but also that of the Devi over the materialistic nature of man. It is a time to contemplate and meditate on the Devi, teaching us that through proper and complete surrender, we can achieve mastery over the trigun — our nature and mind — rather than them controlling our actions. Also, one aspect of Navratri also adheres to worshipping every woman as an incarnation of the goddess."

"That's an extremely interesting perspective," Daphne hummed, "I'll be coming to you for more of these, be warned."

"I'm ready, trust me."

"That was indeed quite well-spoken, Miss Potter." a familiar voice remarked from behind.

I jumped. "Professor Min— Mcgonagall? Since when were you—"

"I've been here all along," Minnie responded easily. "I've always been curious about the festival, and you have proved to be a well of knowledge."

When I tell you, I had literal stars in my eyes.

Navratri that year, if I do say so myself, progressed rather smoothly. My friends had gotten the hang of garba, Parvati, Daphne and I began discussing the various meanings hidden in different religious stories, and every time I did the aarti, I was certain that there was a very specific presence in the air, watching over me, guiding me. Before I knew it, Vijayadashmi (the day celebrated after the nine days of Navratri) arrived, and then it was back to the grind.

Notes:

sita: (has to yap to exactly one (1) person) oh my god this is gonna be so fun!!
sita: (has to yap to a room of people) save me. please. save me.

happy samvatsari, michhami dukkadum and happy ganesh chaturthi to all who celebrate!!

Chapter 21: Extra Credit Hurts

Summary:

the one with tapestry stealing, a history lesson, attempts at deciphering, and another professor.

Notes:

life, being life, continues to bite me. i have exams in a month (i am not at all prepared), two weeks of diwali holidays, a month to study, and three months worth of exams. please, don't expect lots of updates. i am trying my best, though.

So, after many years, and also my Uncle Moony being absolutely awesome, that the wizards realised that having a curse on the DADA position could be countered by bringing in literal cursebreakers. There's an entire profession centred around curse-breaking, but does anyone call them to check the post? No. Let's just have yearly rotating professors in one of the core magical subjects — all I have to say to that is, you're so smart!

For Plot Reasons (TM), a successful cursebreaker known as Bill Weasley was brought in. The first thing I'll tell you about him, which we all already know, is that he's Ron's eldest brother and an ex-Hogwarts Head Boy. The second thing I'll say is that he's pretty pretty. Please, let him never have that hair shortened.

In an interesting twist of fate, Bill came to examine and perhaps break the curse on the DADA position on one fine Tuesday, at the time that we had double DADA. So, basically, we got two hours to do whatever we wanted. Naturally, we ran to the hangout classroom.

"I feel like a few murals or a tapestry might brighten this room a bit more," Lavender mused.

"We could borrow one of the hallway tapestries," Dean offered.

"I really like the one on the fifth floor with the horses!" Hannah added.

"That is a nice tapestry," Daphne determined.

Content that my limcas were figuring it out by themselves, I took out the huge tome that I had for some reason decided to carry around everywhere I went. Must be the familial attachment.

Here it goes.

After the war on the Kurukshetra battlefield, it was determined that someone must be given the duty to hold on to the keys to the purest form of magics. This is our silent duty, hidden from the world. While it is true that the war would not end magic itself, it was foretold that for many years, it would not be able to be understood. Years after the beginning of Kaliyug, first came the settlement by the river Sindh. They were learned, and advanced, and so it was thought that sharing such knowledge with them would help further progress. Yet, they too succumbed to mortal follies, and to this day, no one can say fore sure what it was that brought about their end. We can only assume magic showed them its wrath.

Every civilisation, every empire that came after the Harappans, we did not dare share a single word. It was kept guarded, like a family secret, but only one with the power to collapse entire civilisations if misused. For this reason, Prasenjit III sought an answer; one cannot keep this knowledge hidden forever. In turn, he received an Aakashvaani. It goes thus:

"There will be a time when this knowledge will be shared, but that is centuries to come, and not on this land. Even then, you cannot share everything you have been given. The path to true knowledge and the path to liberation is the only two of the three that you may share. It is no longer your purview to grant knowledge on the Siddhis."

It is only during the reign of Raja Krishnadevaraya of the Vijayanagar Empire that our clan moved to the western lands.

In this vein, as per the texts of Brahmi, here is the path to true knowledge.

"Susan!" I called, "Come here so I can order you around to decipher this."

"You reached that part?"

"After four pages of introductions, yes, I did."

"That's a lot of introduction."

"Apparently, it explains to me why I shouldn't give anyone all the knowledge. The last time we did that, people misused it and their entire advanced civilisation exploded."

Somehow, this was extremely concerning for my friend, and she was essentially speechless. After assuring her that no, it would not make our civilisation explode to smithereens if I just shared a few crumbs from the stuff we were allowed to share, I chose to copy down the first two pages of Brahmic script runes. Don't ask me how I knew how many pages, I don't know either. Probably, like, universal guidance.

But then our two hours of freedom were over, and we had to go back for lectures.

Over the next few days, when we got the time, we began the arduous task of deciphering these runes. I, in all my glory, wondered why I wanted extra credit. This was soul sucking.

"So, that's the rune for the body, that one's for the soul, but, wait hold on, that's the rune for Hrishikesh—"

"That should not make sense as a sentence, did we translate it wrong?"

"It's been two weeks! Why are we still on the third sentence?"

"If we get this sentence wrong for the fourteenth time, I'm going to go cry in the shower."

"Hey! I hope you don't mind, I brought us each an emotional support pillow to scream into." (I did not mind. I was, in fact, grateful.)

"Wait, this doesn't mean power! We missed that little inscription line on its top right! It means Shakti! I feel so dumb. We've been slaving over this one line for twelve days. Alexa, play Despacito." ("What's Despacito? Who's Alexa?" Susan asked no one in particular, confused.)

"Smoothie break?" to which I responded, determined, "Smoothie break."

Many weeks later, I confessed my grievances to my criminal grandmas during our weekly Sunday afternoon get-together. Honestly, I needed that rant off my chest. I might have cried a little. That, of course, stays between Minnie, Poppy and I. Both of them were appropriately comforting when they learned of my predicament, and then also offered unexpected help.

"You know, Lily was a Runes expert," Poppy mused, "I'm certain if you asked Black or Lupin, they might have some works of hers for you to use as reference."

"I love you so much."

"I thought you loved us regardless," Minnie remarked.

"Well, I do, but this is a second one. This is the fresh rain of hope in a drought."

"You'll have to find the documents first," my sensible Transfiguration professor said.

I panicked for exactly five seconds, before waving it away, "Sirius and Remus will figure it out and send the papers to me."

Passenger princess behaviour, a voice in my head accused. I accepted it unabashedly. The word 'princess' was in there, wasn't it?

"Now, go, have fun with your friends," Poppy shooed me off, "And remember to be at the feast tomorrow, we'll be introducing the new Defence Professor!"

"I promise!"

On the topic of the new professor though… So it seemed, the cursebreakers had done their job and broken the curse. Voldie was also dead, so his power wasn't holding the curse stable anymore, rendering it much weaker. This also meant: new Defence Professor time! As far as I understood, there were bets going on about this one.

Someone had said it might be an ex-Auror (canon did have one of those, didn't it?), another said Snape would finally get it, a third said Dumbledore would find someone else for the sole purpose of getting one over Snape, a muggleborn had tricked a bunch of people into believing Gandalf was Dumbledore's long-lost cousin who was super powerful and it was only a matter of time until he took up the DADA post (anyone raised with enough connections with the mortal world knew this was a load of bull, but we liked the prank, so for the magicals who knew nothing about muggles, this was completely plausible — and I love that), and someone opened up the possibility of some Ministry doofus.

I'd also written to Remus, asking about it, because he was a good teacher, according to both me and canon. Apparently, he and Sirius were getting 'reacquainted' (because that's what we're calling it now; don't worry, I called them out on the secret marriage once again), so he would rather stay in our home in London. Due to Sirius' filthy rich status, and insistence on paying for literally anything — believe me, I've also been on the other end of that, despite my very full bank account, the dogfather just does not listen — he wasn't in desperate need of a job to survive. He did want to do something, though, so now he owns a bookstore in the same area as our penthouse. Which, frankly, is a place where he'd face far less discrimination for the furry little problem than any magical job. Remus was happy, and at the end of the day, that's what mattered the most.

"Maybe they've finally decided on a clown this time," Penelope Clearwater muttered under her breath while walking with us to the Great Hall. She had very strong opinions about the terrible quality and extreme inconsistency in DADA in her years here so far, and I can't even blame her.

Thus, the Headmaster began his speech. Great year, blah blah, much joy, blah blah, learning and education are important cornerstones of life, something something, and hey look, something interesting! Food!

"It brings me great joy to present to you, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Andromeda Black Tonks."

Notes:

sita: extra credit!! happy!!
sita, realising she has to work extra for extra credit: oh no. the conses of my quences.

Chapter 22: Quite A Lot Going On, Honestly

Summary:

somehow we went from andromeda to diwali gifts and the author does not know how. 'twas the flow going on its own.

Notes:

look! i did it! i managed to finish another chapter! *cries in exams are one week away*

in all fairness, i finished studying nine chapters and writing four answers today, so a writing treat for myself was in order. the first bit of this had long been written, but the last two thirds? wrote them while garba was on shuffle. and then when srk songs were on shuffle. srk is still on, tbh.

this was supposed to be nice and funny but then the ending happened. have fun.

"Can anyone tell me the difference between a jinx and a curse?" Professor Black Tonks asked the class.

"She's starting at that level right away?" Ron whispered to me. Seemingly, yes.

"Iconic," Hermione whispered, already sold.

Now, I had a choice. I could flex my knowledge on this theory, because I had reached here in the translations — or I could be quiet and underestimated.

Draco Malfoy raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Well," the snot-nosed ferret began, "A jinx always has less malice than a curse, and therefore requires less energy."

Fuck being quiet. I also raised my hand. From two rows behind me, Daphne let out a loud sigh. I think Theo stopped Blaise from laughing out loud. Seamus snorted.

Malfoy glared at me. That only fuelled my determination.

"Yes, Miss Potter?" Professor Black Tonks turned to me.

"What Mr. Malfoy said is, of course, right," somebody almost spit out their water at this point, I think, "But only from a narrow perspective."

The professor blinked. "Elaborate?"

"By Greco-Roman theory, that's the end of it. However, when we consult Norse theory, it says that when jinxing, we use the magical energy already present in the air, which drains less of our energy, in contrast to which, when cursing someone, we use our own magical energy, so it is more draining," I explained, "At the same time, when consulting Ancient Indian texts, it is almost similar to Norse theory. They say that when jinxing someone, we manipulate the panchbhoot — that is, the five elements — around them, but while cursing someone, it becomes a matter of both theirs and your own prana — loosely translated to lifeforce."

"Excellent explanation, Miss Potter. Five points to Gryffindor and Slytherin for both the answers."

"But what Potter's saying is proper theory, Professor, isn't it? Is this the right class?"

And that is the moment we learned not to mess with Andromeda Black Tonks.

"Miss Parkinson, I am afraid to say that without an understanding of theory, there isn't the slightest chance you will be able to cast spells properly."

Absolute. Cinema.

"Shall we begin, then? Notebooks out!"

Within the next few days, the newest professor curated a very particular reputation for herself — much like McGonagall, she was absolutely no-nonsense, but most of us agreed that she enjoyed every witty remark she used when replying to… interesting dialogues. Savage, yet dignifed. And a very good teacher to boot. Iconic, as Hermione had already dubbed her.

Plus, her backstory only made it better. Sirius told me she was his favourite cousin, because — upon being told that she would be subject to an unbreakable marriage contract with some yucky pureblood guy, and that the contract was kept hidden from her somewhere in the house — she made sure to find a time when both her sisters and all the house elves were out of the house and then she set fiendfyre to the house. You can't keep the contract intact if the house it is in isn't intact in the first place.

It was in that moment, I knew: I loved this woman.

Everyone realised how much fun it was to have a competent Defence Professor, and not just be resigned to an endless rotation of (mostly) incompetent idiots. In a reaction of events I had anticipated, due to common sense, people began really demanding change in History of Magic as well.

And who am I to deny the people?

The Daily Prophet's headlines that day made Dumbledore pale.

THE STATE OF HOGWARTS: NO LONGER A PIONEER OF MAGICAL EDUCATION AFTER ALL?

The reporter that I'd gotten Sirius to find for me was succinct and to the point, while still managing to cause an emotive reaction from the public. What was even better? They were quite well known as an honest journalist, who never had embellishments in their articles.

The article rationally pointed out every problem in the system: the rotating Defence issue that had only changed recently (and even then, many people were unsure), the 'dishonourable' state of History of Magic, Magical Theory not having been in the curriculum for so long, the fact that useful courses like basic healing and guide to magical culture for muggle-raised kids weren't provided, and that there was barely even a base built for professional courses. In fact, aspirants for professional industries had to go through a bunch of other classes after N.E.W.T.s. Add in to that the point that Hogwarts was seriously understaffed, with only one professor for every subject.

It ended on a serious, thoughtful note: We might see all this through rose-tinted glasses in the interest of nostalgia, but tell me, is this what will truly aid our children's future?

I did not know it right now, while making devious 'we won' eye contact with Daphne, but this one article would have far reaching consequences, beyond what I had even expected. People would scramble overnight, trying to piece together just what this article meant. There would be an Emergency Wizengamot meeting. There would be audits. Parents would frantically write to each other, and to their children, asking, is this really what's happening? And I? I would watch the glorious revolution unfold, with popcorn.

All that turned into the least of my concerns, however, when Diwali arrived. For reasons that were academic year-shaped, I couldn't go home to celebrate with Sirius and Remus, but I had my cousins and my friends and also owl post.

Why did I mention owl post? Because Sirius and Remus had sent me something. A very important something.

Prongslet, it read,

This is more of a, well, two-part gift. We know that we can't meet you today, which is terrible and someone ought to get pranked badly for that, cursed even, but I hope you know that we would love to be there with you. Enclosed is a surprise and also bangles.

The gold bangles have been passed down through the women of your family for centuries. It should be Lily giving these to you, or heck, even your grandma Effie, but you'll have to settle for us. We may not know the rituals, or the significance, but damn it, we've failed you enough already and we can only keep trying to get better.

(Sorry, that went in too deep with the emotions. This should probably get unpacked over the holidays.)

Love,
Padfoot and Moony

Sure enough, when I opened the first package, there was a set of gold bangles waiting for me. Knowing what I've learned from Parvati about magical jewellery, gold is an excellent conduit for protection enchantments which are sure to be there in heirloom jewellery like this. Plus, it's very likely that it does not need any sort of preservation charms, because gold interacting with magic does the same thing even better. The bangles themselves are simple, with only a few inlaid designs of lotuses. The design wasn't what concerned me anyway.

These were worn by centuries of Potter women, perhaps from even before our migration to the West. A single set of bangles, and yet, they had so many stories. I put them on my hand without a second thought, and swore to never take them off.

The second package was a photo frame.

There was a man with an extremely messy mop of dark hair, wearing a Gryffindor quidditch jersey. I could faintly make out the world 'POTTER', suggesting this might be my father. He had a strand of red hair curled around his index finger, and was gazing adoringly at a woman with blood red hair and glittering green eyes. Maybe I was exaggerating, maybe I was making the scene more romantic than it was, maybe I was putting the characters in a better light than what was happening, but for once, I could be excused. James and Lily Potter were forever young and bright and I would never get to have them. I could know them through the eyes of others, I could have stories and memories and letters and everything in between, but never them.

Sure, I could always say that parts of them were carried forward in me. The way I ran a hand through my hair was something Sirius swore up and down was just like James did, and my disdain for wizard robes reminded Poppy of Lily every time, and sure, Minnie had an odd habit of paling and muttering about my grandmother whenever I got my Chaos Face on. So maybe I had their faces and their clothes and sometimes even their habits, but I never had them. I could have bonded with Mum about stuffy robes and then we could go shopping for nice trousers and jackets. Dad could have taught me about our culture and family magic himself, instead of me learning from our family books. My grandmother would have covered for me and encouraged my chaos at every turn, and my grandfather would have spoiled me with a vengeance.

Most importantly, when somebody mentioned 'childhood', I'd think of a home with the smell of daal dhokli and undhiyu, the faint noises of little siblings playing in the halls, of morning chai and turned-on radios and the clinking of anklets. I wouldn't, instead, think of a dark and cramped cupboard, of undisguised sneers, of loathing where there should have been love.

But maybe, alone, in my room, looking at a picture of two teenagers in love and wearing bangles that were passed down through generations, I could pretend that even the slightest piece of them was firmly in my grip.

And that's how I fell asleep that night, wearing heirloom bangles, clutching my parents' picture to my chest, and dreaming of a hand roving over my head in comfort.

Notes:

andromeda tonks: efficient diva
hermione: this is my new idol
.
behind the scenes:
sirius and remus sobbing their hearts out as they sent the gifts and wrote the letter.
.
parvati, seeing the state of asleep!sita: if anyone wakes her, i will not be held accountable for the kind of mother-hen violence i unleash.

Chapter 23: Here Comes The Sun

Summary:

a sirius interlude.

Notes:

don't be fooled by the chapter title, my darlings, this is a verifiable angst train meet up.
my exams just got over, i got a break, and i've stayed true to my style: here's some athenaareia angst for the soul. i wrote this in a haze of inspiration at night. i think the words are blurring but i stand tall nonetheless. here's the next chapter!

also, this was supposed to cover christmas break, but clearly it got away from me.

trigger warning: minor violence mentioned, brief implication of sirius drinking (not regularly, dw) and Sirius Black Trauma TM.

Dear Padfoot and Moony,

I loved both of them so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You guys are amazing. Don't ever say you failed me, because I can assure you right now that you didn't. It was more a matter of circumstance than personal failing. If you get notions like that in your head, I will turn your clothes into pigeon feathers. I can't wait to come home for the holidays!

Aggressive hugs and love,
Baby Marauder

P.S.: The bangles are for wealth, prosperity, and good health. It's an old tradition.

---

Sometimes, Sirius used to liken James to the sun. It was a fitting comparison: he was warm, like comfort, like a pleasant day, like sunshine after a storm. And caring, always so caring. But he could be scorching when he wanted to be, harsh and cruel and burning things in his path — a rare occurrence. He used to comfort homesick first years all the time, and sneak the younger years chocolate, and didn't hesitate even once before giving Sirius a real home. But when Avery had made mocked Sirius for 'being a disgrace to his name', Avery had suspiciously ended up walking with glass in his shoes. James' way of loving was all-encompassing and oftentimes Sirius wondered if he even deserved that kind of devotion, if he was ever worth it.

Then James would kick his ass for thinking that way.

James and Lily married not long after graduation. They had a cottage, with mismatched curtains and a soft sofa and the unmistakable feeling of home. The rest of them used to come and go as they pleased, and even though they appeared annoyed, Sirius knew Lily was secretly fond of the sight of Remus asleep on the sofa, of Marlene making her way to the kitchen to grab one of James' infamous cookies, of Padfoot running around the hallway. She even kept a ball of yarn for him to play with.

And then, the kid. The kid.

Sita Jasmine Potter came into the world screaming. Nobody could deny it; not her parents, not their friends, and most certainly not the nurse who helped deliver her and care for her in the hospital who would say, even years later, that sometimes she can still hear phantom cries and knows that one very specific baby is to blame. Sirius found it promising for her future. Remus said it was a good sign she'd be a strong kid. Lily, Alice, and Marlene had already begun plotting. And James… James was utterly, completely, enamoured. Dumbstruck. No other word for it.

He used to hold her all the time, sing to her, play with her. He was even personally offended when Sita wouldn't be soothed by anyone but Lily. Never really angry about it, though, but to be fair, Sirius doubted James even knew how to be angry at Lily or Sita.

"So?" Remus had asked as a joke once, when the four of them had been sitting on the soft yellow sofa, "We are going to sit on the porch with knives and guns once the suitors come knocking, yeah?"

"No," James had replied completely seriously, "We're going to scare off the suitors she wants scared off, and if some little shit so much as makes her slightly sad, I'm going to flay them alive."

The thing is, Sirius kind of believed him.

"Besides," James had brightened, "We could always teach her!" and then he had begun cooing, to a baby that was just a year old, "Papa is going to teach you how to efficiently and systematically destroy all your enemies' lives! Isn't that going to be fun?"

Slightly concerning parenting decisions aside, James was a good father. A great father. The kind of father anyone would be lucky to have. But they were in a war, fighting on the frontlines, and they all knew it, so Sirius wasn't surprised when James approached the topic of his death. If something happened to them, he'd said, he wanted Sirius to raise Sita. I know you'll take care of her.

I know you'll take care of her.

Sirius scoffed and threw a glass at the wall.

Take care of her.

It shattered into pieces.

Losing his sanity in Azkaban would have been so laughably easy. He was a Black, they didn't have a good enough hold on it anyway. And with the loneliness and the screaming (probably his cousin) and the Dementors, it would have been faster. But Sirius held on, like a drowning sailor desperately holding on to a log of wood. James, Lily. He had to get them justice. If he gave up without giving them real, proper justice, what kind of friend would he be? But he was likely stuck here for the rest of his life, so what would he be able to do? Remus, he'd think, Andi, her family, but no, no, the Dementors would remind him, they hated him now.

Sita, he'd think then. James' daughter, with the wildfire green eyes and bell-like laughter. His goddaughter. He was supposed to take care of her, right? Madmen can't take care of kids. He had to stay strong. He had to find a way. He had to—

He didn't have to do anything. Someone found Pettigrew, masquerading as a family pet, and the DMLE found he never had a trial, and suddenly the community was in an uproar. Sirius was tried, declared innocent, sent to St. Mungo's for his health, and finally, finally, freed. Most importantly, he was allowed to have contact with his goddaughter.

Conversation at first was stilted, both of them trying to maneuvre around each other because they didn't know the other person well, because they were too afraid of what the wrong sentence might do. Still, they tried. He got reprimanded, and yes, he supposed she was right, his adolescent behaviour wasn't the best in the world. Eventually, though, they got more comfortable, freer in what they shared, like an invisible wall had just been crossed, and Sirius couldn't be happier.

It didn't prepare him for really meeting her in person.

She was young. Objectively, he knew this, she was eleven after all. But she looked so small and to think that they'd let her be in Petunia's vicinity for years… It hurt, alright. Petunia should not be trusted with a kid, especially a magical one, why wasn't that a law somewhere? There were other things too. She had the same earrings James used to wear (every Potter got them, he recalled, and they were enchanted to be impossible to take off by anyone), and she had that little bounce to her step Euphemia used to do for fun. That was Fleamont's nose and Lily's smile and for all that everyone said her eyes were all Lily — they certainly were the same shade — the shape was clearly from James.

When she told them about McGonagall and Pomfrey, he was happy and scared at the same time. Happy, because at least somebody had cared. Scared, because he might just lose her right in the beginning. But, he thought, what right did he have? I know you'll take care of her, James had said, and she had been raised by Petunia and her walrus husband while Sirius was rotting in prison. I know you'll take care of her, James had said, but she flinched at loud noises, kept her head down all the time, and kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sirius knew the signs. He saw them in the mirror. He used to see them in his brother (his little brother that died too soon, too young, because Sirius just has a way of failing the people he loves, doesn't he?).

And then Sita chooses to stay. Chooses to try and make this work, even though she'd be well within her rights to reject them openly. It's the best thing that has happened in his life so far, and he will never deny it. She lives with them, and Sirius learns the things he should have known all her life.

He learns that she likes a little bit more ginger in her chai, likes to wake early to watch the sunrise, and is very particular about where a thing is supposed to be placed. He knows she likes gold over diamonds and silver. He learns that she likes to tie her hair back to avoid it getting in the way, but can't have it too tight or for too long, or else she might get a headache. Learns that she likes vegetables a lot, but has a sweet tooth a mile wide. He learns that she prays regularly, just like James did, just like Effie and Monty did.

But there's still things he doesn't know, there's still things he has to learn more thoroughly. She plays with her hair, but does she do it when she's nervous or when she's bored? He still isn't sure what her favourite genre of books is. Doesn't know what her favourite subject in primary school was. He should have known, he should have been there, but he wasn't and that hurts the most.

"That's enough firewhisky for you," Andi says gently. Andi is the best, hands down his favourite cousin.

"Failed her," he mumbles, "Failed all of them," because he did, didn't he? He tries to get up, but has to be steadied by Andi.

"My fault, my fault—" he slurs again.

"Go to bed, Sirius," Andi sighs. "It's Christmas break tomorrow. You ought to be in good enough shape to pick up your goddaughter from the Platform."

"Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts?" he asks.

"I have my ways," she says shortly, before leading him to bed.

Yes, yes, that's right. Sita comes home tomorrow. She should get a warm welcome back home, without him nursing a cursed hangover. He has to be good. Has to be better, so that he can deserve even an ounce of the love she showers on him. It's like the world itself comes alive when she's happy, and wilts when she's not. And she cares, so much, so, so much, just like Lily, like James, like Effie and Monty.

Sirius used to think that James was like the sun, once. He thinks that his daughter might be the sun personified.

Notes:

sirius: i ruin everything i touch
andromeda: that's enough whiskey for you, buddy, go to bed now.

Notes:

as always, i love all you lovely readers, i love all your kudos, and comments are beloved to me <3.
come go feral with me at my tumblr @athenaareia