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(Rigel is) Miraculous! Simply the Best!

Chapter 2: From London to Paris

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Alix spent her week helping Kid build their strength back up. Kid, in order for Tikki to come up with all the requisite paperwork, had finally given a name and pronouns, and a birthday. Harriett Potter, she/her, of 31 July 1980, but they all decided to change her birth year to match with Marinette’s. Kid also said she was older than her age, likely almost sixteen than her linear nearly fourteen, so it worked out in any case having her masquerade around as a sixteen-year-old.

Alix got Fluff to pull out a shallow swimming pool for Harry (as she insisted being called) to have physical therapy. Even if a Creation goddess speeds up your healing, your muscles still need to work back up to full strength.

But Harry was the most determined person Alix had ever met, and Alix had met a lot of determined folks in her time, Marinette having been the previous top contender.

Harry displayed a ridiculous notion that if she wasn’t doing something (and that something had to be what she considered productive) she was going to explode. This led to Alix showing her how to work the Burrow’s screens. Harry wanted to know about modern technology, which, fair, she was from like, thirty years ago or whatever, but Alix suspected she didn’t know much about modern technology, like pre-1800s or something.

Fluff was a huge help, and Harry spent far too much time badgering the Kwami with questions to the point where Fluff just flicked Harry on the nose and said, and Alix would quote, “Work on your own personal evolution,”

Harry suddenly had green eyes (obviously magical) and physically looked sixteen, not boyishly twelve. Though to Alix’s delight, she hardly gained ten centimeters in height. She was still taller than Alix though. 

Harry grumbled about suddenly having hips and poor eyesight, but otherwise didn’t seem concerned about her changed appearance.

Alix taught her about telephones and television and the internet and showed clips of a typical akuma attack (if going by an average, they’d all be Mr. Pigeon/Mr. Rat, but Alix wasn’t that much of a nerd, thank you very much Max,). Harry would frown her concerned face at how much destruction happened.

Alix got to see Harry work her magic on a few things, mainly cleaning her beloved boots, but Harry said her coils were still messed up too much to perform much magic. (And also having a Dominion concept in your head led to not being able to use it as much as you wanted)

Alix took sneaky pics of Harry in pouting in oversized clothes (with more pieces stolen from Jalil than just a hoodie) and sent them to Marinette with ‘progress!’

Because at least Harry was showing real emotions after the few days. Alix wanted to try a therapist from her own, post-akuma time, and have Harry visit under the pretense of akuma trauma, but Harry, who wouldn’t sleep under the covers or with the lights off, waking up with nightmares every other hour, was adamant she had it handled and didn’t need to see a mind Healer, thank you for asking Alix, I’m leaving this conversation now.

She’d already resisted possession from one bastard, she was better with ‘occlumency’ now, and she wouldn’t let it happen to her, especially to an actual (she had stressed this point) domestic terrorist.

 

“London still smells like London.”

“You’ve been?”

“Um, yeah. There’s a big community of my folks who live here, not to mention two of my uncles both live here, there, whatever.”

They were wandering around London to find Harry her own clothes. Jalil had called Alix and asked her to please stop raiding my entire wardrobe, kiddo, I’m not made of cash. But boo to Jalil, cause Alix had the time to wait for him to restock. Harry? Eh, not so much.

Harry, desperate to check on her reality, had them pass a few locations she knew. Her ‘Leaky Cauldron’ was now the home of a hipster chocolate milk bar. ‘St. Mungo’s’ was an apartment building. Harry sadly reported that she couldn’t feel the presence of other magic users besides her and Alix.

“Okay, so like, I’m not the resident fashion expert, that’d be Mari, so I’m not even going to bother pretending that I am. You seem like a sensible and practical person, so we’ll visit places that I’d get things from. Your mission, Harry, should you choose to accept it, and also you’re not allowed to not accept it, is to get eight complete outfits for daily wear, and four nights worth of pyjamas. Uhh, I’m not going to dictate your underthings, unless you really need me to? Oh, and I guess, uhh, maybe a formal wear outfit? Yeah, that should be a good start for Mari’s approval.”

Harry let Alix accompany (read: drag) her into a store.

Harry grabbed a handful of the first plain t-shirts she could find and a hoodie (oversized London Eye souvenir) from the front rack. She also gave most other items, especially the sequined ones, a look of utter disgust.

Alix dragged her to the changing room, threw in some jeans and button up shirts and said, remember, she couldn’t leave until she had eight complete outfits, consisting of separate clothing items for each look. Harry huffed and rolled her eyes, and selected Alix’s choices that fit, even if they didn’t fit well. Harry changed them to fit better once back at the Burrow.

Alix warned her that Marinette would chew her up and spit her out fashionable if it killed her, only to get a “thanks, but I appreciate the funeral look” in return.

“You don’t know Mari like I do, kiddo. She’d scary when she’s in Designer Mode™.”

Harry rebuffs with “I’d like to see her try, if Pansy, Archie, and Draco couldn’t get me to do that after all these years.”

Poor kid, Alix thought, she was refusing to see the train barreling down the tracks towards her, but that was her problem.

 

 

Tom and Sabine were mildly suspicious of their daughter asking them to be hosts of an exchange student, (in part because that was something that took months of set up to arrange, not a week, and usually coincided with the start of a semester, if not a school year, rather than the middle of one) but mainly because Marinette valued her privacy (due to being Ladybug, but she didn’t know that they knew that yet, Tikki did, but they three agreed it would be best to wait for Marinette to approach them with it)

They figured it was something Guardian related and agreed, besides, maybe another kid Marinette’s age in the home would be a growing experience for her. They were set to pick up Harriett Potter from the Star Train station at half ten that Saturday.

Sabine had planned out a casual and relaxed schedule for Sunday to be spent touring Paris sights, but of course, she was open to changes, whether akuma or preferences, whichever came up first.

Harriett would join Marinette at Francois Dupont on Monday, in two days. But the rest of today would just be spent adjusting and relaxing and whatever else Harriett might want to do.

 

The couple arrived at the station just before the train pulled in, and Harriett’s appearance from behind them on the platform only furthered their belief that she was Guardian related.

Harriett was a small thing, far too scrawny for Tom’s liking. But if she ever wanted to help out in the bakery, he’d fix that right up. Extra pastries went to extra hands, after all.

She was extremely polite, if not overly vocal, but she understood them just fine. Her responses were stilted and riddled with odd grammar, and she consistently struggled with conjugating Etre properly, and any tense other than present. But they were all able to practice their English too, so it all worked out. Sabine knew that a few weeks of submersion would help clear that up.

 

 

Alix pulled a up a portal to the Star Train station, at half ten that Saturday, making sure she was picked up by the Dupain-Chengs and had left with a reluctant hug (on Harry’s part), and felt like an accomplished big sister.

 

Marinette was buzzing around her room with half excited, half anxious nerves for Harriett to come. She was totally prepared to house another person. There was a bed where her chaise used to be, half her closet emptied, and her sewing stuff was shuffled to one side of the room. Her parents were out picking Harriett up and Alix had just joined Marinette after dropping Harriett off, going over their progress of the past week.

Harriett could walk again, run somewhat, but was still generally winded and tired quickly. Disappointed in herself for not being as strong as before her mysterious ordeal which she still hadn’t divulged beyond: “A bitch-ass fucker grabbed me, misused the time-turner I’d been allowed for school, tried to get rid of me by burying me alive, and now I have a megalomaniacal rock in my head not paying the rent.” As if that didn’t leave any questions. Still, Alix was confident that Marinette could get Harriett to open up about her life besides that misadventure, so they’d get along fine. Probably. Either way, there was no reason for Marinette to be nervous about sharing her space with someone new from another time and dimension and culture and oh Tikki she’d totally gonna hate me because I’m technically making her take the bottom bunk, and she’d probably want more floor space and—

“Marinette, we’re home!” Sabine’s voice came through the floor.

Marinette raced down the hatch, Alix leaving with a silent wave through a portal, and tripped down her stairs to slam into Harriett Potter, bowling them both over.

“Oof, sorry about that, I’m really clumsy.” Marinette helped pull Harriett to her feet, (the girl was still worryingly light, even for someone with residual super-strength) “I’m Marinette!”

Harriett hid a smirk, as did Marinette (though less successfully), at having to play that they hadn’t just spent the past week intermittently getting to know each other, especially through Alix’s consistent text updates. Okay, so maybe Harriett didn’t know Marinette as well as she knew her, but eh, details.

“My name is Harriett Potter. Thank you for being welcoming to your home. Please be calling me Harry.”

“Welcome, ‘Arry, let me show you to where you’ll be sleeping. You’ll be bunking in my room, and let me know if I’m speaking too quickly, I don’t mind repeating myself, or if you’d rather, we can converse in English.”

“Thank you, I will being tired of the French eventually, but I am needing of practicing.”

 

The rest of Saturday was half tours of the bakery and half Marinette fainting at the sight of Harry’s closet situation (“What do you mean this is all you picked out?? Surely this is just travel wear, or, or, clothes to ruin? Why do you only have one pair of shoes???!!! They don’t even coordinate with anything you have?!

“So this is what Alix was warning me about.”

“Yeah. Now take off your hoodie and those clashing boots. I’m taking your measurements. There is no way a guest of MINE is showing up to school on Monday dressed like that.”

“Rude, but fair.”)

Over dinner, they talked through the typical weekly schedule of the bakery and school, and after dishes were cleared let Harry chill on the couch so she could “observe them in their natural habitat” as she put it.

 

Sunday was busy: it saw them touring tourist attractions as per Sabine’s helpful agenda; Harriett stopping an attempt at pickpocketing (she was an obvious, non-Parisian target) which ended with the thief gaining a sprained wrist; and which subsequently Marinette had to bail to stop an akuma attack near Champs Elysees; (excusing herself to a bathroom in the Louvre, citing diarrhea) Harriett (to the bewildered look shared by the parents) said “have fun, don’t drown”, and then went along on her merry way. Sabine started to bring up akumas (an awkward segue to be sure, but the were near the Mona Lisa at this point)

“Did you know the Mona Lisa has been stolen more recently than 1912?”

“Is it being from an akuma attack?”

“Oh, you know about akumas? That’s good,”

“Yeah, I am researching current Paris hazards when I uh, applied to study here. Marinette’s got a weird fear response to them if hiding in a bathroom when an alert to one not even in the area goes off is a regular thing.”

“Oh, yes” (phew!, They didn’t have to cover for their vigilante daughter’s less-than-smooth exit strategies, but then Sabine remembered that Harriett likely knew, and was covering for Marinette. Smart cookie) “She’s been directly targeted a few times though, so we don’t blame her, as long as she lets us know when she’s on her way back.”

 

Monday started with an early morning akuma (only 12 hours after the previous one, seriously Papillion???? What are you even doing awake at 4!!) and so Harry was the one who woke Marinette up after an unfortunate two hours of sleep post-battle.

“bitch, wtf, do you know what time it is??” Because Marinette was not Awake Enough To Deal With This Shit™

“Yes, it is half seven, class starts at nine, you need time to be dressing and eating. Get up.” Harry responded with a vicious poke to the side. Ignoring Marinette’s mumbled “and I can get away with not getting up until fifteen til.”

 

Harriett followed Marinette to her home room and sat next to her. Marinette said she could have her pick of the seats if she’d like, as they were thirty (30!) minutes early, but Harry merely replied, “I’d rather am being with you, I don’t be liking of the attention. Back of this classroom is being easier to not have other eyes.”

 

“Hello and good morning class!” Ugggg Marinette’s rocket fuel had Not kicked in yet to deal with a perky Mlle. Bustier on a Monday. She was not the only one who felt this way.

“Good morning Mlle. Bustier.” was the collective flat response.

“We have a new student joining us, she’s an exchange student from London! Mademoiselle Potter, would you like to come up front to introduce yourself and answer a few questions?”

“No, but I will anyways,” Harry held her head high, ignoring the stares with an ease Marinette was somewhat envious of. (Who was she kidding, she was wholly envious of that confidence)

“Hello, my name is Harriett Potter, I hail from the Midlands of England, not being of London. I am being hosted by the Dupain-Chengs. I am being fond of doing the running, reading, and the sciences, being most fond of chemistry. I have one sister, being baby called Addy. I will not answer all questions.”

Kim started off the crowd. “D’you think you can teach me some English swears?”

“Bugger off,”

“Excellent!” and high-fived a much-younger Alix. Who then also asked a question.

“Have you been to the Louvre yet? My dad’s the exhibit director there.”

“Yes, The Mona Lisa is being much smaller. I was being the thought of it bigger.”

Sabrina asked “Have you been pickpocketed yet? My dad’s a police officer, so I can help you file a report if so.”

“Yes, but the man was being of bad form. I nearly broke his hand when he tried. I have been meeting of good form pickers-of-the-purses. Faster ones too. My dad is also being of the law force.”

Lila then just had to bring herself back to attention, urgg. “If you ever want help around here with anything, just ask me, I can totally help you with adjusting to life in a new place.  Unless I’m too busy at one of my charity functions, or out of the country, that is.”

“Thank you for being of the welcoming, but Marinette is being my host-sister, I will be asking of her. No further questions.”

Harry walked back to Marinette at the back of the classroom, and merely stared at Bustier until the woman cottoned on to the fact that she would have to teach a class today, not just let the students hound the newbie.

Lunch time was a different story. Harry seemed more open to sharing when it wasn’t taking up class time, though she still wasn’t going out of her way to initiate conversations.

“I am being of the pagans. We are being a very small community, very much without electricity or modern technology. I was going as student— the student? –a student at The Boarding School. Very many of my community are being of students there. But some of us are being students on American, sorry, of the United States. I have one baby sister, one boy cousin, two uncles, and my mother and father. I am not having Aunt, she is being dead. Archie is being my cousin, but is not being a not-brother, we are being very close. He is of my heart, being my friend best.

“Many apologies for my wrong sentencing, my teacher of the French is being of strange speech patterns, even in the English. I is being good at reading of the French, I is being— am of fair listening, speak the French good not much.”

 

All things considered, not a bad way to start the week.