The Puppeteer (HP Fanfic)

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patreo n.com (slash) Lazy_Lust_God

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For the past three weeks, I have had Erwin, my faithful house-elf, keeping vigilant watch over Diagon Alley. Hermione Granger's arrival was, as expected, a predictable event—a moment I could orchestrate and manipulate to my advantage.

Harriet Potter, however, presents an entirely different sort of challenge. She is not an unmarked canvas like Hermione. Harriet Potter is a narrative already in motion, a living legend carved from the whispered prophecies of wizards who have never even gazed upon her visage. To alter such a deeply etched story is a task that requires finesse and forethought.

Unlike the other children who will board the Hogwarts Express, Harriet's destiny is believed to be etched in stone—a phoenix rising from the ashes of her tragic past. Yet, they fail to realize that I am no mere spectator in the tale of the "Chosen One." I am the author of her future chapters, the sculptor who will chisel away at the marble until her story aligns with my own.

Thus, I bide my time, meticulously planning each step, each word, each encounter that will slowly but inexorably draw her into my web of influence. I am patient. Patience is a virtue that the Selwyn lineage has perfected over centuries of manipulation and control.

On the morning of August 31st, Erwin, my family's house-elf, appeared in my study with his customary pop. His large, bat-like ears twitched with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

"Master Damian," he whispered, his voice tinged with urgency, "the Potter girl, she's here!"

Carefully, I set my book aside, ensuring not to damage the delicate pages. I smoothed the front of my robes, the fabric cool and crisp under my fingers. "With whom?" I inquired, already formulating a plan in my mind.

"The half-giant, Master," Erwin replied swiftly. "They first went into the Leaky Cauldron, but now they're out in the alley."

Hagrid. It had to be. Albus Dumbledore's faithful guardian, charged with the task of safeguarding the "Chosen One." But even he couldn't shield her from my influence. No one could. I stood, my movements deliberate and measured. I adjusted the cuffs of my sleeves, ensuring that every detail of my appearance was in perfect order. Poised. Controlled. Prepared for the encounter that was about to unfold.

"Keep watching," I instructed Erwin. "I will take it from here."

With another soft pop, Erwin disappeared, leaving me alone in the quiet tranquility of my study. I took a moment to steel myself for the challenge ahead and then stepped out into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. The game was no longer about to begin—it was already in motion. Harriet Potter was here, and I was ready to make my first move.

The air shifts subtly as a murmur of recognition spreads through the crowd. A current of whispered speculation swirls around a single point of focus—the girl with the untamed black hair and a certain vulnerability that seems incongruous amidst the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley.

I observe from a short distance, my gaze drifting casually toward the entrance of Flourish and Blotts. I have been anticipating this moment, preparing for it with all the meticulous care and strategic forethought that a Selwyn is expected to employ.

And there she is. Harriet Potter.

She is smaller than I expected, her clothes hanging loosely on her frame—a tangible reminder of the hardships she has faced in her young life. Yet, it is her eyes—a vibrant, piercing green—that hold my attention. They move with an eager curiosity, devouring the sights of the magical world with an almost palpable hunger.

The crowd watches her, their fascination barely concealed behind a thin veneer of casual interest. Harriet, for her part, seems to pretend that she does not notice the scrutiny, though there is a certain stiffness to her posture that suggests otherwise.

I take a moment to study Hagrid, who stands protectively beside her. His gaze flickers warily at the growing number of people staring, and he mutters something to Harriet, handing her a booklist.

"Get yer books, 'Arry," Hagrid says, his voice low but audible. "Then head to Madam Malkin's for yer robes. I'll get the rest."

She hesitates, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features, but then she nods—obedient, trusting. Hagrid leaves, his large form disappearing into the crowd, and the moment he does, I move.

"Some books will be more useful than others," I comment, my voice casual as I approach Harriet Potter where she stands browsing in Flourish and Blotts.

She turns at the sound of my voice, her green eyes meeting mine with a mixture of surprise and guarded curiosity. I offer her a small, reassuring smile, taking care not to overwhelm her with the full force of my attention. She is not like the others—she requires a gentler hand, a subtler approach.

"Oh," she replies, clearly caught off guard. Her gaze flits to the book in her hands and then back to me, a hint of uncertainty flickering across her features. It's clear she's not yet accustomed to the attention that comes with being the "Chosen One."

This is good. It means she's still malleable, still capable of being shaped according to my designs.

"You're starting at Hogwarts this year," I state, my tone conveying a friendly interest rather than an interrogation.

She hesitates for a moment, as if weighing her response, before giving a small nod. "Yeah. First year."

I let my gaze drift to the book she's holding. "'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration,'" I observe, my voice carrying a note of mild approval. "It's a solid choice for a first-year student. But you'll want to supplement that with more advanced material if you truly wish to excel."

Reaching past her, I pluck a book from the shelf, holding it so that she can see the title. "Visualizing Magic: The Key to Transfiguration," I say, presenting it to her. "This book delves deeper into the practical aspects of Transfiguration—something that will serve you well in your studies."

She squints at the book, her brow furrowing slightly. "I didn't see that on my booklist."

"It wouldn't be," I reply with a slight shake of my head. "It's not required reading, but it will certainly give you an edge over your classmates. Transfiguration is a demanding subject, and understanding the theory is only half the battle. Visualization is crucial, and this book is an excellent guide."

She takes the book from me, her fingers tracing the embossed title as she considers its weight in her hands. "A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration," a solid choice for a first-year student, but she will need more than the standard fare if she is to excel as I expect her to.

Her brow furrows in thought, a crease forming between her eyebrows—a sign of her innate curiosity and intelligence. She is considering it, allowing the possibility of additional knowledge to take root in her mind. My influence over her begins here, in the quiet exchange of a book and a recommendation.

"Also," I add, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper that only she can hear. Her head tilts slightly, a silent invitation for me to continue. "There's something else you should consider."

Reaching above her, I select another volume from the shelf, its spine promising knowledge beyond the reach of her Hogwarts booklist. I place "Occlumency for Beginners" into her hands, watching as her fingers close around it, as though she instinctively understands its importance.

"What's Occlumency?" she asks, her voice betraying a hint of suspicion.

"Mental defense," I reply, holding her gaze to ensure she grasps the gravity of my words. "It shields your thoughts from intrusion. From manipulation." I allow the concept to linger in the air between us, knowing that it will take hold in her mind.

She stiffens almost imperceptibly, her body's reaction revealing more than her words ever could. The notion of manipulation stirs something within her—a latent wariness that I find intriguing.

"You're famous," I remark, my tone thoughtful and measured. "That means people will want things from you."

Her lips press together in a thin line, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in my statement. She is beginning to understand the complexities of the world she has entered—a world where fame and power attract both allies and adversaries.

I take a step back, giving her the space to process the information I have provided. "It's just a suggestion," I assure her, my voice conveying sincerity and a genuine desire to aid her in navigating the treacherous waters of wizarding society.

She carries her books toward the counter, stacking them carefully before pulling out a small pouch of coins. The clerk, a bespectacled wizard with a perpetually bemused expression, begins to tally the total, his fingers dancing across the keys of an old-fashioned cash register.

I take a step back, as if to leave, allowing her the space to complete her transaction. Yet, as I turn away, I let my words drift back to her, a soft murmur that catches her attention at the last possible moment. "Madam Malkin's is my next stop as well," I say, the statement smooth and carefully rehearsed. I adjust the cuff of my sleeve, a gesture of subtle elegance. "I have a package to pick up."

She glances up from her pile of books, her green eyes meeting mine. There's a flicker of recognition, a silent acknowledgment of our brief interaction. She nods, the motion barely perceptible, her focus already returning to the task at hand.

Perfect. The encounter has been brief, but the seeds have been planted. She will remember me, if not for my words, then for the unusual recommendation of the Occlumency text. I had the package arranged at Madam Malkin's a week in advance—casual clothes for Hogwarts, an excuse to ensure our paths would cross again. It's a calculated move, one that will allow me to pull the next string in this intricate game.

Because Harriet Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, does not yet grasp the intricate workings of our world.

But in time, I will be her tutor, her mentor in navigating the complexities and shadows of this realm. Gradually, she will come to rely on my wisdom, my foresight, as she carves out her path through the trials and tribulations that lie ahead.

She will find herself turning to me, seeking my counsel as she confronts the challenges that are her destiny to overcome. And in the process, she will become a pivotal piece in my grand design.