if she never showed up, what could've been.

Over the past few days, Henriette had gone through different stages regarding the most recent news. At first, she had tried to remain as calm as possible for the sake of Dorcas, at home she was the same, putting on a brave face so as not to worry her husband more than necessary. Saving her true feelings for when she was alone or at the training sessions with Frank, she needed those now more than ever. Though, her mind was far away from the training course, spiraling into the multiple ways every little thing could go wrong from here on out. Like it or not, Henrie had grown in the pureblood high society, more often than not planning her next mischievous act to ruin it, sure, but it also meant that she had grown to learn the inner workings of politics. Even now, she knew that whoever won the main seat at the Ministry. would also hold most of the power and could very well brainwash people into believing almost anything.

Today? Oh, today she was the opposite of calm, walking through Diagon Alley. She was angry. Furious at the world for putting her and the rest of the world in this hideous situation. She cared more about the consequences of the Minister’s death than what had happened to the man— “If you have come to deliver even more bad news, I wish not to hear of it.” she spat, not bothering to look at the person who had called for her. “Throw them into the fire for all I care, I cannot deal with it today.” if she did, Henriette would be back to her chaotic little self in no time and who would that help? Absolutely no one. 

Regret was written all over her face when recognized Alice Longbottom. “Alice, I— my apologies. I’m having one of those days.” letting out a sigh, Henriette pulled herself together. “How are you? I assume you’ve heard the news.”     

who: @henrie-abbott​ when: april 1st, 1979. where: gringott’s bank.

Henrie’s office was her safe haven. The place where she could go if she needed to take a deep breath. Doe had used it far more often lately than she remembered in the past, taking a few minutes to calm herself down on a particularly bad day. Of course, today was no exception. The universe, it seemed, wanted to keep Dorcas Meadowes in a constant state of panic. Ink from the paper stained her fingertips, and she read through the article once more, starting to read out loud as she heard Henrie opening the door. “Did you know?” she asked, when she was done, laying the paper down on her boss’s desk, eyes full of an unfamiliar worry.

The world had always been hard, Doe knew, but it had never felt quite so much like a burden. Every day felt like a fight; like she would have to prove herself worthy of life this time. Not everyone, it seemed, was as lucky. Michum, was new, but James’ parents? That was what had happened last time. She blew out a sigh, head shaking back and forth softly. “I just feel like every time I get ahead, some shit like this happens and I’m behind again. Oh, and it also turns out I’m a pessimist now.” Doe rubbed at her eyes, trying to take in this new feeling of hopelessness. But, that was why she was here. Henrie always helped. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The world was starting to turn upside down yet again. Yes, Henriette was keenly aware of the possibility of history following its course for the grand scheme of things, though that didn’t mean she, of all people, had to like it. Sure, she had not been involved firsthand in the preamble to the first war, one of the many things she regretted to this day, because she had suffered great losses to it even when staying by the wings of it all. Much like it was happening now, she remembered reading the papers, hearing whispers on the streets, every week after the first batch of bad news, a brand shiny wave of deaths— friends, family, innocent people trying to cope with the reality of every day, having made no mistake but being born into a family without the same resources as hers and the others who prided themselves on holding a great amount of power under their thumbs. Power that would be useless in the end, her parents would die, and many, many years later Henriette would too.

What to do when one of those losses was staring right at her? Seeking any words of wisdom she could provide. And, normally, she instantly would have. If not for getting caught in the moment, thinking about Dorcas’ future. Her face revealed nothing of the sort as she pretended to read the paper, giving herself a minute to shove her thoughts into the little box she kept off-limits things. Fears. Irritations. Anything that would be of no help. “My sweet girl...” she addressed her with a smile that didn’t reach the eyes, a sad one. “I have the same information as you do. Pessimist or not, what matters is what we do with it from here on out.” a subtle hint of hope coated her words. Henrie then stood from her desk, walking up to her and placing both hands on her shoulders. “Nothing is set in stone. And— you and I make a marvelous team.” how much was safe for her to say?... Would it make it easier or complicate things further? “...You do not have to deal with any of this alone, Doe. Not this time.”

Frank, too, had a backyard. If the Abbotts were anything like Augusta Longbottom, the backyard would be perfectly manicured, without a flower out of place. It was not where Frank had trained to be an Auror—most crimes happened where there were narrow streets and long hallways, always something in the way. Frank preferred to dodge; other people in the Department of Law Enforcement who liked to use more explosive methods.

“I guess we can summon a couple of things to make a bit of an obstacle course. Things you might see in Diagon Alley, maybe? Or transfigure some patio furniture, if you had that?” Now Frank was really thinking—something that most people aren’t ready for is the idea of pointing a wand at someone, not when they had long stopped taking courses in Defense Against the Dark Arts. But even then, courses like those didn’t tell you to train against people, of all things.

Maybe it would be wise to invite Henriette to his place—not that he and Alice had a backyard in their little cottage, though a change in scenery might help. He followed her to the backyard.

“Do you have any defensive spells around the house?” It was an afterthought, something that he realized might have been missing from that past-though-not-really-past life he had. “Maybe an anti-Apparition charm?”

@henrie-abbott​ 

—

It had been a few weeks since he had first met Henriette Abbott, and he didn’t forget his promise to help her train. When they had first met, Frank hadn’t yet adjusted to the memories yet, the slow peeling back from what he had known to be true before. It didn’t make him hopeful, and he wasn’t sure how much he could count on this prior information to really help, now that there were paths that continued not to be taken.

He looked skeptically at the sitting room, then took a seat; his wand had stayed in his hand since Apparating to her front door. He didn’t get comfortable; he’d have to stand up later, if they were actually dueling. But there seemed to be no better place that wasn’t so… obvious that this was what he was doing.

“You do realize that… we’re going to need to do some practical applications, right?” Frank said wryly. “Preferably we’d be outside. Someplace with obstacles, maybe. Target practice might be useful.”

----

Having Frank pointing out what should have been an integral detail when planning the meeting considering its purpose did make her feel somewhat foolish, but she got over that quickly, Henriette was all about solutions now, after all. That was what motherhood did to someone, even if her child might not be around for a while. Maybe it was better that way, at least until she had a better understanding of everything going on around her. 

“We have a backyard, it might be better suited for that?” she offered. People might see what they were doing, that was a given, but the woman was confident that it wouldn’t be considered anything out of the ordinary. “I’m assuming you are able to come up with some obstacles of your own? We have magic at our disposal. It shouldn’t be that complicated.”

"Thanks again for agreeing to do this,” Henriette told him as she walked him through the house and led him into a small reception area where two armchairs were placed, a coffee table set between them. Not the best of places to train by a long shot but the least conspicuous. Eric wouldn’t be home until hours later and she figured that it would be easier not to tell him about her plans at the moment. The last time she had done that, well, that was the moment where things started going south; because she had let him convince her to stay safe instead of putting up a fight. She didn’t blame him, she couldn’t. Every choice he had made back then— every choice they had made was out of love for each other and their family. This time around, however, it was all about making different, better choices. Including trying to convince him, for a change. 

The woman took a seat and indicated Frank to do the same. It all felt too formal, she could not deny that, but she had forgotten to read the part of the manual that indicated how to tell someone the reason you want to train is to avoid your death. “Where should we start? It’s been a while since I’ve done any of this. Can’t say I miss it, truly.” a chuckle escaped her. “Don’t mind the possible damage. I’ll fix it later.” 

Determined to regain some sense of agency and normality in her life after it had been taken from her by a whim of fate or time itself - she was not yet sure - Henriette began to consider a list of people whom, based on her memories of her youth, she believed she could trust. There were not many, of course. Most of them connected to her family in one way or another. The same family that had made the terrible mistake of trusting the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. 

However, one name stood out at the top of her list, someone she would trust with her eyes closed because she considered her a friend beyond the Purist nonsense they all carried around in their heads.

So shaking off her fear, she went to the last address she could remember in those days. With two firm knocks on the door, she waited for someone to answer. "Thank God it's you!" she didn't hesitate twice before wrapping her dear Cordelia in a hug as soon as she saw her.

She’d been coming to Diagon Alley more and more, she realized. It was familiar. It was a reprieve from the lot in her life as of late, and a welcome one. Though she had her plans and her determinations to change the future, there was only so much she could handle in the cacophony of it all before she fell apart. Hence, the occasional excursion to clear her mind and steady her soul just enough to function. Was it entirely healthy? Just shoving things aside? Probably not, but she would take what she could get. 

And with a fresh coffee in hand, Emmeline swiftly stepped from the small shop’s door and began to recite her list of tasks for the rest of her day under her breath. It’d been something she’d done since she was small in the effort to keep all her thoughts and ideas on track, and she was well used to the occasional odd stares she got at times in response because of it. What she hadn’t counted for, however, was Henrietta Abbott calling out to her. 

“Oh shit, sorry, I was just ––– chatting to myself, really. I can get a bit carried away in my head. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”  

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The shop windows along the alley, the smells and the bustle of people going about their day as if nothing bothered them in the slightest, evoked in Henriette a sense of distant familiarity. She had been here, she had laughed, she had made memories in those same streets; and yet she had not. The version of her that did felt so distant and elusive that even in this body, if she were to stand in front of a mirror, she would not recognise it. So free and serene without a care in the world that she couldn't solve with some insolence disguised as bravery. 

None of her youthful tactics would serve to solve her death or the death of those she loved. Nor would it make her forget that she had failed to protect her daughter when she needed her most. That weight would follow her forever even if she could somehow change the outcome. She mentally chided herself. It would do no good to dwell on the past. Or the future. Whatever it was. 

“You did not.” she kindly told the woman whom she recognised as Emmeline Vance, mirroring her exact same expression. “I could use some company if you are not terribly busy.”

Alastor was rather used to people staring at him. Whether it be from the chunk of nose missing, scars scattered along his features as though his skin were carved from wood, his lost limb and clawed prosthetic, or even, his magical eye. Not that it bothered him. Others’ thoughts about the Auror’s seemed to fly right through him. The only aspect his cared for was respect. He’d fought long and hard, gaining those injuries and treasuring them as though they were rewards and other tokens in his endeavors. However, blasted back into a younger version of himself, Moody was missing a few of those trophies. It made him wonder what exactly Henriette was so focused on.

Hearing the cordial tone as it juxtaposed her appearance made Moody hum in thought. Truth be told, Alastor couldn’t quite place Henriette herself in his memory until after the first war. That could explain some actions, but others, he knew the answer lay in those recent changes, as she put. Interest piqued at those words, Moody’s eyebrows rose in curiosity as he gestured to take the seat across from her. 

“Best course of action?” Moody repeated, fixing himself in his chair, “Wise to play yer cards close to yer chest, if you know what I mean. At least, for the time being. Until things start to seem a little more familiar,” he added, only knowing of the Order members who had come back with memories intact; this was the first outside of the organization he’d come across thus far.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first thing she had done after waking up a few days ago was to make sure her husband was okay. Henriette made her way through the house that morning only to find him soundly sleeping on the couch of the study, apparently working late as he often did even when they were that young the first time around, after having gently shaken him up for a couple of minutes until she saw him open his eyes, Henriette allowed herself finally spiral down into sheer panic. Eric had been and was the first person she always trusted for everything, this was no exception. 

She should trust no one else. And yet, she heard a spark of hope in her voice when addressing the man once again, which was a surprise after his answer had revealed nothing new. “I am not going completely mad, then? I--- All of this, really is happening again?” she needed to hear it from someone else’s mouth to completely convince herself. Henriette didn’t know what the rules were, if there were any, only that she wanted to make things right without risking losing her daughter. 

“I am deeply sorry, sir. I’d imagine this is not an easy subject to speak of. Let alone discuss it with someone you don’t know.” she had every intention to ease his doubts in order to get him on her side, merely seeking some guidance. Moody had been a teacher in her daughter’s time after all. “I assure you, you can trust me. I have no ill intention towards you or anyone else…” she cut herself short before going into another emotional speech about how much she wanted to save her family. That wouldn’t do her any good. “I believe you knew my daughter?... Hannah?”  

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

A snort followed Henriette’s words and for a moment she forgot about all their past; all the steps she’d already climbed, all the ladders she’d already knocked off bookcases. “Oh, y’know I’m never afraid of a little danger,” she grinned. “Or a lot of danger, really. Throw all the danger in a little pot and I’m there. But I am concerned we’re unprepared, like you said. I don’t know if Michaels knows what he’s doing with the daggers…” Dorcas trailed off, a bit sheepishly, knowing she was probably going a bit too far, but then Henriette asked her what they knew, and she let out a deep breath. Always the mentor. She appreciated that in the older woman.

“Right, well, we know that the pyramid is built on a three story dungeon, with a system almost like Gringotts – which, if you ask me, is amazing for the time period. I mean, anyways, they’re looking for two daggers, one from the Pharaoh and one from the Roman Empress, but we think that the traps actually lay in the one from the Empress, even though it wasn’t the one fully documented.” 

Doe took a deep breath trying to steady herself. “It’s supposed to be cursed, so that anyone who uses it to kill, not only dies themselves but also curses the family of whoever they’re killing to die early deaths. We’re not entirely certain of that, but, if it’s true, it’s deadly in the wrong hands.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Try as she might, Henriette seemed to be losing the ability to focus on the meaning behind the words coming out of her assistant’s mouth. She heard them, of course, most of it sounding like a foreign language to her ears. Almost as if they were part of a scene from a movie of her life she couldn’t pause. They had been here before, having similar conversations on a daily basis just replacing the object in question with the newest task at hand. Yet, she blinked away the unhelpful thoughts. It didn’t matter what had or had not happened when or how; she was right here, right now and Doe needed her. The woman had let so many people down already, this girl wouldn’t be one of them. “We will be. I shall have a talk with them if it has you so worried.” her voice was perhaps a tad more maternal than she would’ve desired as she reassured the other once more. A girl with fire in her belly, just like Hannah. Henriette could work with that. 

As a new amount of information washed over her, the ambitious workaholic side of her started to take over. She didn’t play quidditch anymore but she still tackled every situation like a chaser chasing a quaffle. Fast, efficient, and to the point with no time to waste. “I see...” taking a sip of her chocolate, she waited until the very end to speak her mind. It was obvious Dorcas had still plenty to say, 

“Why aren’t we the ones handling that case? If you don’t trust the person in charge from the start, that should tell you something.” the mention of death sent a shiver all the way down her back and she pushed through it. “We’re making a plan, then hopefully intervene before someone screws things up. Can’t have any more deaths on my hands.” the last part of that sentence came out on accident, too late to take it back.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Henriette was someone she’d always looked up to. A Slytherin who had earned her respect; a woman who she hoped to emulate one day.  While Doe had become a cursebreaker in her own right, it was Henriette whom she attributed being the one to teach her how to be a cursebreaker. Henriette was her boss again, and Doe was afraid to bring up what had happened. Did Henriette remember too? It was so hard to truly figure out; to know who was awake and who still asleep. Still, she treated the situation as she used to, and Henriette had always allowed her free speech, no matter the situation. 

“Oh, sorry, I was mostly just spit-balling,” she said, shaking her head. “About the Egyptian artifacts? I don’t know about you, but I’m worried we’re running into a trap. They bloody loved their traps, didn’t they?” This mission, in particular, had been a trap. But she couldn’t say it. Not yet. She was afraid Henriette didn’t, in fact, remember and would send her to Mungo’s like all the others. 

Doe paused, looking at her mentor. “You alright? Y’kinda disappeared there for a second.”

Henriette found a strange feeling of comfort with something as simple as engaging in conversation with a familiar face. Time travel, dream, dazed confusion aside, Dorcas gave her that sense of structure she didn’t know she was missing until now. Talking with her about work, about the things she actually knew about made her feel a bit more like her younger self again without feeling guilty, almost as if she didn’t have anything to make up for or fix. Right now, she could pretend all she cared about was her work and the potential and promise shown by the young Ravenclaw. However, the woman couldn’t help but point out all the little ways in which she reminded her of her daughter one way or another. To mention any of that, however, would be extremely unprofessional of her. 

“Don’t tell me you are scared of a little danger, Dorcas? We will deal with it when we cross that bridge.” she pointed out, internally gathering her previous thoughts and placing them on the farthest corner of her mind. “In this particular line of work you need to be prepared for anything, you know that. And, to tell you the truth, I know you are.” Henriette had so much faith in her and would gladly wave away any doubts. 

“I’m alright. I got a tad lost, for some reason. Nothing you need to worry about.” back in the day, she had a complete-honesty policy between them, that she would only dare to break to avoid scaring her. Until she had all the facts. “Now, tell me. What do we know?”   

—

The Leaky Cauldron was, disappointingly, the same. Frank was trying to notice if there was something—anything different that made people act strange. Maybe he hoped that people were acting more strange than he had been. Maybe everyone still felt groggy after the New Year’s festivities, but he wasn’t keen on asking.

Not until he kicked a coin bag a few feet ahead of him. He bent to pick it up, then stepped backwards to the woman in front of a mug of hot chocolate. Even when he tried not to startle her, since she seemed incredibly focused, he had a hard time getting her attention.

But Frank had been much in his own head too, hadn’t he?

“Is this yours?” Frank repeated, holding out the coin bag to her. Sometimes people were clever and wrote their names inside, or put a charm on it that would make it difficult to open the bag. Most of the time, there wasn’t anything important inside worth taking anyway, save for the coins. It would just be easier to return it.

@henrie-abbott 

A perfectly practiced smile appeared on her lips by way of apology right after she’d  turned her attention back to the male figure calling out to her. A bad habit she had acquired over the years, a product of a too-quiet life and the remnant of training in high society manners. Henriette hated having to use it, but it seemed the safest strategy until she knew who was trustworthy and who was not. She could not afford a single mistake this time around, much less something as big as putting fate in the hands of someone other than her husband. 

Her gaze dropped to the bag he held, instantly searching inside the pockets of her coat. Empty. She had been so lost in her own thoughts for her to realize the exact moment she’d lost it. “This is quite embarrassing, thank you.” she reached for it. Confused as she was these past few days, it wouldn’t do her any good to be misplacing her belongings all over London. 

Walking without a limp was something Alastor Moody was slowly becoming re-accustomed to - as well as seeing with his original pair of eyes. Much had come to pass  after Voldemort’s first demise, that it was as if Moody had lived another lifetime entirely. Now, back in his prime, Alastor made a point to any of the other Aurors or Ministry workers that, just as before, he was not one to be trifled with, and made his way to Diagon Alley as part of his original recruitment days. Whenever he had seen someone fit for the job, Moody offered the program and a guide through training.

But first, he had to find those skilled witches and wizards, likely near heavy trafficked areas of Diagon Alley. Which led him to see a family face within the crowds. Not one he’d grown to know personally, or even an Order member per say, but a rather tough woman who could hold their own: Henriette Abbott. Mother of Hannah Abbott - a bright young witch Moody knew had been one of the key member in Dumbledore’s Army. Surely, if her daughter was up to snuff, she had to get it from somewhere.

With only a clear of his throat as a greeting, Alastor stepped up to the witch, towering over her with the added height of his still-intact limb, “Mrs. Abbott?” He observed as she kept her hands around the cup, gathering she was using it for warmth. However, when she asked what he had said, Moody merely shrugged it away, folding his arms across his chest, “Lot on your mind, ey?”

Her eyes were focused on the man's. Taking in his every feature, every line of his face, not for the reasons one would think, but because she was still trying to wrap her mind around what had happened and the effect it seemed to have on everyone around her. Solid proof that she was not going crazy and that, despite the valid reasons for her confusion, it was from now on, a reality carved in stone. At least with that, she had a base from which to start and for the moment, that would be enough to get her through the day.

"You could say that, indeed." she agreed, trying to maintain a cordial tone; something that didn't really match her current appearance. Her younger self, she would be in search of answers and wouldn't stop for a second until she got them. 

Thanks Merlin, Henriette knew better now. She would not jump to any conclusions, instead, she had learned to use the wisdom of others to her favor when she didn't have it. "Excuse me, sir. Could I ask you a few questions?" if she remembered correctly, Moody had been pretty much at the center of it all. "You may refuse, of course. It's just that I'm trying to figure out what would be the best course of action to take with all these... recent changes."

Every time she closed her eyes, the same scene replayed in her head over and over again. The last moments of his life ran in slow motion as a constant reminder of what would happen if she didn't start making the necessary changes in her life. Henriette was more than willing to risk everything for her family from that moment on. Only, just considering changing things became terrifying when she stopped to consider the consequences. Hannah wasn't even born yet, and any misstep would risk her daughter's future. Was it worth the risk of losing her just to protect her? In what world did that make sense?

The warmth emanating from her cup of hot chocolate was the only thing that kept her aware of her surroundings, preventing her from getting lost among the thousands of possibilities swirling around in her mind.

If she really wanted to make a change, she would have to learn to fight back a lot faster—

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

(tw death, loss, grief mention).

—  January 1st, 1979  —

Henriette Celeste Abbott inhaled a sharp breath, the cold icy air filling her lungs in contrast to the warmth of the heavy blankets covering her body. She jolted awake, eyelids flying open in an instant. Flashing lights crashing against each other followed by an endless stream of nothing, rushed to her mind, and something inside her, a voice no louder than a whisper told her she couldn't trust it. It wasn't safe. She stared at the ceiling of a bedroom she could not recognize, her new reality gradually sinking in. Memories blurry and unreliable, except for the ones connected to those she loved.

This was the first home she and her husband had ever bought together. It was a safe place, full of love and laughter from day one. Why did it feel so eerie being here? Why was she crying out of nowhere? Her body was reacting to a memory of its own.

"Hannah..." shaky voice abandoned her mouth as salty tears ran wild and free down her cheek with no interest in stopping. She had a daughter who needed her help and—