Helen Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 4
Feasts and Foolery

Saturday rolled around and Helen had just finished her second lap around the lake. She found that since her class with Dumbledore she was sleeping more soundly than before, and that lighting the orb was getting harder rather than easier. Once it was lit it took more and more for her to keep it alight, then the next day she would start again, but it would be a little easier at first and get harder faster. She and Hermione settled beneath a beech tree by the lake. The weather was biting, but not cold enough to send them running inside.

“I’m glad you talked me into doing this, I’ve felt more focused since I started jogging with you.”

“Nothing like getting the blood flowing to keep your brain active.”

Hermione leaned back against the tree and drank from the water bottle she had transfigured from a flask, “What are we going to do when it gets too cold to do this?”

“The builders of this castle had a lot of things in mind when they built this place, including the weather. There is a riding arena in the basements from when they had to teach students to handle mounts. They haven’t sanded the floors in ages, but it will work for our jogs.”

“And when did you find that one?”

She laughed, “I was hiding from Filch when I found it. Same way I found the cells and the armory. Its basic castle construction honestly. A place this big with this many wings needs multiple sublevels; dungeons, basements, subbasements, and the like. Whoever designed this place enjoyed their mysteries and so you have to be good at spotting secret passageways, both magical and architectural. The classrooms in the dungeons are easy to find, but going deeper requires a fair bit of poking around.”

“What I don’t get is why hide them, this is a school after all.”

“But think about it Hermione, this place was built a thousand years ago. When it was built muggles were burning witches and wizards, they were terrified of magic. What better place to train future magic users than a fortress. But more than that, that fortress needs to be of more use to the community than just a school. That is why the living quarters are in a separate wing, and why there are so many of them.”

Hermione checked her watch, “We should probably get up to the school, we have just enough time to shower before breakfast.”

“What say after breakfast I show you how to spot optical illusions in architecture and we explore the dungeons some?”

“Is that allowed?”

Helen grinned, “Well, Dumbledore only said the third floor corridor was out of bounds, he said nothing about the rest of the castle.”

They showered and ate then returned to their dorm. Helen had advised Hermione to wear heavier clothing as the deeper they went the colder it would get. Once they were layered for the dungeons and had a few extra jumpers packed in their bags they set off for the depths of the school. The main section that the school knew about were already extensive, and vastly considered Slytherin territory. They weren’t surprised when they ran into Ron as they went deeper.

“What are you two doing down here? I thought Gryffindors were afraid of the dark.”

Helen rolled her eyes, “Your whole family is Gryffindors and you’re going to go with that? Come on Red, surely you can do better.”

“At least I have a family, your parents are moldering corpses.”

“Unlike you, my family chose me and want to keep me, they aren’t required to.”

Hermione looked at Helen, “Let’s just go, he isn’t worth our time.”

“Shut up you bushy haired terror. You don’t even belong here.”

Helen stepped forward before Hermione could respond, “How about we settle this the proper way? A duel, fifth floor, midnight tonight.”

Ron smirked, “You’re on.”

He shoved past them and continued on his way. Helen shook her head and continued down the corridor before turning into a dead end. She wasn’t sure what it was about him, but she couldn’t stand him.

“Okay, tell me what you see Hermione.”

“A wall,” she answered confused.

Helen nodded, “Yea, yea that’s what you see alright. But if you look closely, you can see that there is something funny about it.”

Helen watched Hermione, her eyes squinted in concentration as she examined the three walls, the roof, and the floor when she suddenly gasped, “The flagstones, half of them continue past part of the wall!”

“Very good. Now, let’s go before someone else comes along.”

They slipped between the sections of wall and into a dark corridor. Helen waved her wand and torches sprang to life along the path. They cast a dancing light that left shifting shadows. Helen found it oddly soothing, but it seemed Hermione didn’t.

“You aren’t really going to duel him are you.”

“Absolutely not. Professor McGonagall patrols that corridor around midnight on her way to her quarters, and if that isn’t enough my dad has horrible insomnia and patrols the stairwells on Saturday nights to tire himself out.”

“That’s kind of evil, I like it.”

Helen shrugged, “Revenge without breaking the rules or risking myself, it’s not evil, just Slytherin. Dad would be proud.”

Hermione looked at her, “Which brings up the question, why are you in Gryffindor?”

Helen laughed, when she stopped, she shook her head and grinned at Hermione, “If there was one personality trait I would assign to myself it would be fearlessness. Dad nearly lost his mind and keeps telling me I’m the reason he will go grey at any moment. I’ve bungee jumped, sky dived, base jumped, you name it. Best of all, I drag dad along behind me kicking and screaming the whole way. I didn’t think he would forgive me after last year and the spelunking episode.”

“Okay, I have to ask, what happened?”

“Well, he’s a thin slippery little thing, but he’s rather tall. We came out of this gap we had been crawling through and I stood and scooted out of his way. When he stood up he slipped and lost his footing, fell right over the lip we were balancing on. There he is, yelling at me, terrified, his feet scrambling for purchase to pull himself up. Then he realizes that the reason I’m not helping him is because I am laughing too hard. See, his feet were about two inches from the cave floor. I’m trying to talk him into doing Everest when I graduate, but he has so far refused.”

“I didn’t think you could skydive until you were eighteen.”

“You can’t, alone. Tandem jumps are allowed…when your guardian confounds the employees.”

Helen continued showing Hermione some of the more interesting areas she had discovered while they talked. It didn’t take long before they had delved into areas that Helen had not reached. Hermione was adept at finding hidden doors and very good with lock charms. Then they found themselves surrounded by change, the walls were darker, the floors dark polished stones, and the statues were serpents.

“Where are we?”

Helen ran her hand over a door that was covered in intertwined snakes, they were solid over the seam of the door, “If I had to guess, I would say we are in what used to be the Slytherin section of the school. When the school was originally built the founders had their own sections to teach their select students, this must have been Slytherins.”

“I wonder where the other founder’s sections are.”

“We have seven years to find them, but something tells me they will be more changed than this place.”

“What do you imagine is through here?”

“I don’t know, but I’m game to find out if you are.” At Hermione’s nod she looked at the entwined serpents on the door and hissed, “open.”

The snakes began to writhe and uncoil, their bodies pulling back, away from the seam between the door and the wall. One by one the snakes withdrew, freeing the door from its locks. Helen grinned and leaned against the wall.

“What was that?”

“Parsletongue, snake language. You’ve met Mia, don’t be surprised.”

“That explains that then.”

Hermione pushed open the door and then stepped inside. Braziers burst into flames, dancing blue fire that barely dispelled the darkness. They both stopped dead, the ceilings were forty feet above them, visible by the liquid purple glow that danced over them. But the most eye catching thing to the two girls wasn’t the ceiling, or the polished black marble of the floor, or the dusty but plush furnishings. No, it was the bookshelves that went thirty feet up and were packed with books. Helen stood frozen, her eyes wide, breathe in sharp bursts as her eyes tracked along the shelves. But Hermione was no longer next to her, she had stepped fully into the room.

“Look at them all,” Hermione breathed.

Her fingers brushed along the dark spines, dusty with age and neglect. Helen shook her head to clear her thoughts, and watched the change in Hermione’s eyes. The way they widened in pleasure, her pupils dilated, her fingers dancing over the covers trying to choose where to begin. But she shouldn’t, she couldn’t. Helen knew, because she could see now. The titles; Darkness in the Blood, Magic of Midnight, Blackest Tempest, and others in Latin and a hundred other languages. But there was one thing that was easy to see, these were some of the blackest dark arts books.

“Hermione…I think we should leave.”

“So many books. They don’t have titles,” she muttered barely audibly. “Bound in leather and wood and flesh waiting for a reader.”

Helen shuddered, the books had her now. Hermione was bewitched by the lure, held hostage by the knowledge that had taken on a life all its own. The powers within the pages had allowed them to manifest a will of their own and that will wanted to be read, to be learned, to be embraced. But the most telling thing within was a copy of the Standard Book of Spells: Year Three.

“Hermione,” Helen said louder, breaking the serenity of library silence, “we need to leave here, now.”

“Why would I leave here? Look at all these books, Helen. I don’t ever want to leave here.”

“Think about what you just said Hermione,” Helen shouted. “What kind of books are bound in flesh!?! Only dark arts books, and these are at least a thousand years old! We have to go, we have to get away from them.”

She shook as the whispers got louder, the draw of the books pulling harder at her, trying to draw her to open them and read their secrets, learn the forbidden. She couldn’t run after Hermione, it was too risky. She couldn’t call for help, there was no time. She needed a solution before one of the books drew enough attention to itself to get Hermione to pick it up and read.

“Patrificus Totalus!” Hermione’s legs snapped together, her arms flying to her sides. “Mobulous Corpus, let’s go Hermione, we need to get out of here, and I don’t think I can trust you to walk on your own yet.”

She had run, Hermione floating behind her, toward the one person close enough to help. The only professor who didn’t live in the apartments, Severus Snape. She skidded to a halt at the door and grabbed the handle. It still yielded to her touch and she floated her friend into the sitting room. Once she had Hermione settled she stepped outside the door and pulled the cord. It was keyed to her dad’s wand and would cause it to vibrate wherever he was.

She returned to Hermione to find her eyes darting around, her muscles bunching and twitching  involuntarily. If Helen released her from the body bind she was sure Hermione would dash back to the library and grab the first book she could find. She raced to her dad’s cabinet and released the ward the way he had taught her. These potions were the most deadly, the most dangerous, and the most powerful in Hogwarts, and her dad kept them in the safest place he could, in his sitting room.

His small cramped writing adorned every bottle and she grabbed one labeled calming, and another labeled sleep. She poured one then the other into Hermione’s mouth and massaged her throat to help her swallow. She used a sticking charm to adhere the bottles to the front of Hermione’s robes. The door bust open and she sighed in relief as her dad strode into the room.

“One dose each of sleeping and calming draught. She was snared by a dark enchantment, she’s been entrapped.”

“You can tell me the rest later,”  he growled as he sank to his knees, his wand going to work. “Go to the Headmaster, tell him I need him.”

Helen didn’t respond, she simply spun on her heels and ran. Jogging every day allowed her to race up the corridors rapidly. In the entry hall she had to dodge around McGonagall and on the stairs she tucked and rolled under Filch. She pushed through crowds, vaulted Flitwick, and didn’t stop as she all but screamed the password still down the hall from the Head’s office. The castle knew, the stairs spun dizzyingly fast up to the door and she didn’t bother to knock, she just burst through and managed to stop before crashing into the desk.

“Dad needs you, in his quarters, its Hermione.”

He didn’t question it, especially with Helen leaning against his desk gasping to catch her breath. He spun toward his fireplace and grabbed a pinch of emerald powder which he cast into the flames. They leapt up, green and dancing waiting to transport whoever entered them.

“Snape’s quarters, password peek-a-boo.”

With a woosh he was spun away. Helen waited a moment then followed behind. When she came out her dad was working with his wand and Albus had his hands on either side of her head. Minutes passed, then the clock on the mantle struck noon, then three, and finally they both leaned back and rested. Hermione’s hands lay open and at ease, her muscles slack, and a small smile on her face.

Severus turned to Helen finally, “Tell me what happened.”

“We were exploring the dungeons looking for good places to work out and just getting to know the castle. We found Slytherin’s wing and we opened a door, it was a library, full of dark arts books, ancient dark arts books. Thousands of them. I started to hear the whisper and froze but Hermione kept going and touched the books.”

Albus nodded, “That is why we chain the books in the restricted section. Can you lead us to it.”

“Of course, I can even open the door for you… Headmaster, I don’t think we were the first to find it though.”

“What makes you say that?” her dad asked.

“I saw a school book on one of the tables, Standard Book of Spells: Year Three. But, only a parslemouth could have opened that door.”

Severus and Albus glanced at each other before Severus shook his head, “It’s a rare gift, but there have been other students who have possessed it. Either way, I will get started on dinner and you can show Albus where this library is.”

Helen nodded and led the Headmaster out into the hall. They walked in silence through the hidden passage and deep into the dungeons. Deeper and deeper they walked, through secret doors that Helen had left open, down winding stairwells, and finally into the polished halls. She hissed the words and watched the serpents retract. Dumbledore stepped inside and left her in the hall.

She heard him call, “You may enter, it's quite safe with me here.”

Helen stepped through the door, her heart hammering in her chest. The flames were glowing white and Helen could now see that they were under the lake, the dark water above was illuminated by the glow for a few feet before it become impenetrable darkness. She stepped to the table, to the school book left behind, and opened the cover. Inside, scrawled on the cover was a name she knew all too well. Tom Riddle was emblazoned in black ink on the name line. She looked at the rows of shelves, books as far as the eye could see reaching nearly to the roof. This was his secret, this was Lord Voldemort’s secret.

“This is where he learned, where he became the greatest dark wizard ever, this is the place Lord Voldemort was born.”

Dumbledore nodded, “Right under my nose. I think I’m starting to get to old for this. Yes Helen, this is where Lord Voldemort came to be. He stepped into this room, already embracing darkness, and started to read his way through this place. Brilliant really, he had seven years of free time to delve here. The lessons these books must teach, not much different then what you are learning, just on the opposite end of the spectrum.”

Helen picked up one of the books, “Something tells me he made a lot of use for this shelve.”

Albus took the book from her hand and nodded. In neat gold letters was a single name, Salazar Slytherin, Book 7. The whole rack held books the same size just with a different number. She found one at random, book 171, and opened it to the middle.

The others do not understand, they will never understand. Helga has this fanciful way of imagining everyone is safe. Rowena thinks that knowledge should be devoured and teaches every fool intelligent enough to read. Godric at least has the sense to pick fighters, idiots, but fighters. They do not understand the pain. They have never watched the one they love burned alive, wand snapped and thrown on the pyre. Never watched their children hunted down by filthy muggles. I know that the ones born to muggles are not a danger, but their families are a danger. Each one we take in risks the exposure of our world.

They think I am leaving, going off to sulk that they will not listen. I will leave, then I will take the passage back and retire to the chamber. I will teach the students who find me to be strong, and to defend themselves. When I am done I will seal this place. The longer Hogwarts stands the more dangerous these halls will become. This library most especially. I have collected to much darkness and the passage of time will give it power. The others cannot know, so I will not tell them.

She replaced the journal and went and sat on one of the chairs. Dumbledore was searching the shelves, occasionally pulling out a book to toss it into the braziers. She sat, thinking about everything going on today, everything that had happened, and decided that she had a few hundred questions.

“Professor, these books, they carry the imprint of the people who died to write them, don’t they?”

“Yes, the ink is mixed with blood, bone is used in the binding, and skin is used in a lot of the covers and pages.” He paused in his endeavor, “If that isn’t bad enough the subject matter in many of these books are subjects that never should have been examined.”

“So he found this place, Tom Riddle, and started studying these books.”

“One by one. I shall have to find this passage and make sure that it is sealed. There is no telling how many times he was here after leaving.”

“Why did he leave his book?”

“Tom was a very prideful wizard, he enjoyed leaving his mark on things. I believe this was his way of leaving his mark here, without effecting the library and its value.”

“What are those books you are burning?”

Albus held one of them up, “The books I am burning have been outlawed, they are too dangerous, they cover subjects that are too dark for the sensibility of the wizarding world. More than that though, they are the worst of the lot. Instructions to perform the darkest rituals and create the worst potions.”

“Are you telling me the whole truth?”

Albus smiled, “No, I am not. Nothing I am telling you is a lie though. I am just leaving certain parts out, parts that you are simply too young to know.”

“Okay, I can try to accept that for now, next questions. Why wasn’t I affected like Hermione?”

“I think that may have been two fold actually. Your mother’s protection probably aids you in keeping to the path of light, and Severus’s teachings help you to shield yourself from the darkness. There is a strong light within you, it tempers some of your more impulsive behaviors.”

Helen laughed, “Severus told you about the caves and such. Why was Hermione so susceptible.”

“You already know the answer to that. She grew up without friends, her only joy coming from books, from knowledge. This is the type of place that would call to her.”

“What will you do with these books?”

“We will make them safe, then they will be moved to the Defense Library under the main library. I should probably warn you that the door only opens to the touch of a professor’s wand so you should avoid looking for it. The wards are rather painful.”

“One more question Professor, those books, the ones you burned, they don’t call out or whisper, so how are they the worst?”

Albus’s face became a mask of forced calm, “They don’t whisper because the spirits trapped within never learned to speak, they never got the chance.”

Helen left the library and headed back toward her dad’s apartment feeling sick. Anyone who could create those books or use them was evil, a kind of evil she found it easy to loath. She could only think of one kind of person who hadn’t had a chance to learn to speak, and the thought made her want to cry. If she ever got the chance she wanted to kick Lord Voldemort, she wanted to kick him right in his shriveled parts.

When she entered her dad’s chambers she found it inundated with the smell of cooking garlic, thyme, onions, and tomatoes. She went across the sitting room and touched the handle to her bedroom door, she seriously hoped dad hadn’t changed it into a library or something. She stepped into the room and smiled. The four poster was still in the center of the room, its thick hangings open and the pink sheets neat and crisp. Her posters and drawings were right where they belonged, the sketch she had started of her dad still sitting on her desk waiting to be finished. She opened her wardrobe and changed into a long dress, the warm velvet was comfy and it felt like home.

She was finding that important at the moment, keeping these rooms feeling like home. The black velvet had been a birthday present from her dad and she had worn it to celebrate all the holidays. The butterfly sleeves were robe-like enough to make Severus happy and the square neck, empire waist, and full skirts made her feel like she was actually wearing a dress instead of robes.

She walked into the kitchen and snagged a small cube of steak before her dad could scoop it into the sauce. She moaned happily as she gathered the dishes and began to set the small round table. Flames jumped up behind her as Severus let the flames hit the inside of the pan. She settled the last fork and turned to her dad.

“You’re making Italian again.”

“Yes, the house elves won’t, so I have to feed the craving somehow. By the way, you are a place setting short.”

“Are we having guests?”

“You brought one with you. Admittedly, she is still unconscious on the couch, but she will come around. Set a spot for Miss Granger, she may remain.”

Helen gave him a dirty look, “Dad, put Professor Snape away, or I’m leaving.”

“Very well kitten, how are you adjusting?”

She sat on the stool by the old cast iron stove and shook her head, “Classes are fine and I’m looking forward to starting quidditch, but I have to admit that its strange sometimes.”

“You grew up with these people, it’s only natural that seeing them in a different light will be difficult for you.”

“It’s not just that. I… dad, I grew up down here, in the shadows. I snuck through dungeons, past creatures fantastic and dangerous, and now I climb around the school in the light. Everyone keeps looking at me like I’m their damn messiah, and I keep getting this feeling that there is something going on.”

“Leave whatever is going on alone.” He waved his wand and the pasta drained itself and filled the serving bowl, “I taught you a lot over the years, but unfortunately along with all of that came a love of the shadows between spaces. Now you are going to learn a whole new lesson, how to work in the spotlight. That’s good, working in the light gets you recognized and rewarded, just don’t forget how to be a proper sneak.”

“You’ll find out just how sneaky I am tonight.” He looked at her curiously but let it drop. “So why did we wait so long to have dinner?”

“Rules.” He moved dinner and the side dishes to the table and served, “Now that we are here though, we are allowed to do this twice a month. Incidentally, our dinners don’t have to be here, we are allowed to go out. Perhaps take in a movie or show if you like.”

“Sounds great. But then I wouldn’t get your spaghetti Bolognese and the awesome cheesy garlic bread, kinda hard to choose.”

Severus chuckled and pushed some asparagus on her plate, “You’ll eat that or no pudding.”

“But dad, it’s so gross!”

“Yes, horrible stuff vegetables, and you’ll eat them.”

“Hey, I like vegetables, but asparagus taste like old garbage and smelly feet. Why couldn’t we have carrots, or brussels sprouts? At least those are tasty.”

“You would just pour butter all over them and destroy their nutritional value.”

She rolled her eyes, “The butter adds fats and a host of other nutritional factors. I also burn the calories from my diet by exercising. Speaking of, when was the last time you went for a jog…pudgy.”

“Pudgy? I would have to eat your butter and mine just to put a pound on. You, however, are looking a bit round in the face. Maybe the feasts are a bit more than your metabolism can handle.”

“Oh yes, I’m the one putting on weight. You are the same shape as your cauldrons.”

“Maybe, but I am starting to worry that your broom won’t be able to lift you. I think you need a larger, stronger mount.”

“Okay, I’ll jump on your back, a flying whale should be enough.”

Severus chuckled, “That was a good one. I know you don’t like asparagus, but it was fresher than the other veg available. Tell me, have you had any…I believe Miss Granger is coming around.”

Helen stood and went to the sitting room, Severus hot on her heels. Hermione was on her feet, halfway to the door, when they entered the room. She turned as they came into the room looking startled. Helen shook her head and put her hand on her arm, turning her back to the couch. Severus already had his wand working, diagnostic spells flashing over her.

“How are you feeling Miss Granger?”

“Dad, no Professor Snape tonight.”

He looked uncomfortable but nodded, “Very well, how are you Hermione?”

“I’m alright Professor Snape.”

Helen would have said something but there really was no point. Everyone called him professor, it was his appropriate title after all. Her dad seemed happy with the results and whatever he was looking for must have been gone because he nodded once and slipped his wand away.

“You are missing dinner Hermione, I suggest you come along.”

“What he is trying to say is that you are invited for dinner, Italian tonight, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Oh…well yea, that sounds great.”

“You’ll have to forgive dad, he is socially awkward. But you should get on with him alright, he enjoys intelligent people.”

“I am not socially awkward, I am simply not sure of the protocols for you having friends over.”

“I’ve had Draco over plenty of times.”

“No, Draco has come over with his parents plenty of times. There is a difference.”

Severus made a plate for Hermione and handed it over, “Thank you, sir.”

They sat there awkwardly, the only sound the clinking of silverware on plates. Helen was looking between her dad and her friend wondering how best to break the ice. Her dad was a surprisingly by the rules kind of man for someone who worked in the shadowy world of espionage. It wasn’t Hermione that he was being stiff around, it was a student. Helen could have brought her over during the summer and this would have been the situation. She was going to have to shift their images of each other.

“You’re the youngest professor on staff, aren’t you sir?”

And just like that, Helen had her means, “This old man? He has to use a cane to hobble to the bathroom five times a night.”

Hermione looked shocked, but Severus fired back, “As opposed to you, who is so young you still have trouble tying your shoes.”

“He’s so old he changed Dumbledore’s diapers.”

Hermione snorted with laughter, “Helen is so young she still wears diapers. Speaking of, I think it may be time for a fresh nappy.”

“Dad is so old he was on a first name basis with the founders.”

“You’re so young I’m not talking to you I’m talking to…”

He stopped, he blinked, Helen roared with laughter, “Really!?! That is where the great mind of Severus Snape went? My father’s trousers?”

“Um…” His sallow cheeks glowed red in the light of the lamps, “Not quite.”

“Ah, mum’s trousers then. Better choice for you anyway.” Helen looked at Hermione, “You’re allowed to laugh dear. It’s a game we like to call bait. Basically you bait your opponent into an argument, first one to stumble or laugh loses.”

Hermione looked between the two of them confused, “But doesn’t that lead to real arguments?”

“Nah, one of the rules is to make them outlandish. No real assaults on the person. Teaches you to be fast on your feet in a debate and allows you to blow off some steam in any relationship.”

Severus smiled, “The older Helen got the more argumentative she became. I still prefer her as a baby.”

“Yea, that’s because you could keep me under your thumb. Are you going to start mooning over the old days now? Maybe break out the photo albums?”

Hermione looked surprised, “Photo albums, he doesn’t…that is to say…”

Severus chuckled, “Yes, I don’t exactly seem the warmest sort do I? But I have pictures from the day Helen came to live with me to her sorting.”

Helen froze, her eyes searching his face, “How the hell did you get pictures of my sorting?”

“Language young lady, I didn’t raise you to be a sailor. Albus made the arrangements, we took pictures of all the students, we are going to send them out to their parents. As a keepsake.”

“You are so sentimental. But, I rather like this idea. It’ll be good for the students too!”

“Indeed. Although we do kind of wish they didn’t look quite so terrified.” He stood up and moved to the old stove, looking in the oven, “But the first years always look that way. Perhaps we will take the photos after they are sorted next year, capture their joy instead.”

He settled a chocolate soufflé gently on the table, “ So, Hermione, what do you think of your first year here?”

“I am enjoying myself so far. The classes are interesting, and I’m learning a lot.”

“You should start thinking about where you wish to focus, third year will come far faster than you think. That goes for you as well Helen. You’ll probably want to take far more classes than is practical.”

“Dad,” Helen toyed with her fork, “Whats with the food at the opening feast?”

Severus smiled, “Noticed the spices did you? It was a solution to a simple problem, most students, this is their first time away from home for this long. The first night brings a lot of fear, excitement, and longing for home with it. We use certain herbs to calm nerves and help the students get a good night’s sleep. It’s nothing sinister, just a way to ease kids into a new situation. Nothing strong enough to force you to sleep is put in the food, just enough to relax you and make sleep seem like a good idea.”

“Well,” Hermione finished her pudding and set her fork down, “I appreciated it. Before the feast I was very anxious.”

They spent another hour talking and enjoying tea and biscuits. Severus was a gracious host and Helen was proud that he was managing so well with the difference in personal interactions between himself and one of her friends. As the night grew on Hermione excused herself to allow them to say goodnight. Helen appreciated it, her dad was still her dad after all.

“Weekend after next?”

“Yes, I’ll make Chinese.”

“I’ll leave Hermione to the great hall, make you more comfortable.”

“If you wish to bring a friend along you may. It won’t kill me.”

Helen hugged him, “Love you dad.”

“Love you to kitten, now get moving. I don’t want you out to late.”

He kissed the top of her head and she left. The two girls chattered all the way up to the dorm. When they were inside they both changed into their nightclothes and settled down to practice for their next lesson with Dumbledore. Once they were done creating lights they both fell fast asleep, a content little smile on Helen’s face.

We broke ground today. Helga and Rowena are off searching for plants for the greenhouses, but Godric and I are leading the apprentices as we begin construction. It will take weeks to excavate deep enough for all the necessary supports. Godric finds it daunting, but I am looking forward to him going to sleep. I will hide a space for myself deep in the supports of the school. I will need a private space to work, away from the prying eyes of the others. Naria will need a space to spread out as well. She is small enough now, but in a few decades, she will be too large to ever hide again.

Godric wants to start on the towers, he always wants to run before he can walk. We wouldn’t have students to help with building right now if it wasn’t for him. Sometimes his look before you leap mindset is useful. I can’t say that I am sure how often, but it is better than Rowena who just wants to build a library and fill it with useless knowledge. Helga…my friend Helga. She at least understands. Helga is a community builder. She has already gathered several families and they have started to build homes. It looks like the village will be growing alongside our school. A castle was a good idea. Should the worthless muggles come for us we will be able to defend ourselves. We should look at other ways to defend this place. Building it with two bridges and surrounded by sheer drops and a lake was a step, now the castle needs to defend itself as well.

At least it will when we are done building it. Tomorrow I will send Godric and the students to gather stone and wood. I will continue the work on the foundations, at least that way we can begin to build the dungeons and basements. Once those are completed then Godric can have his towers. I fail to understand his compulsion to dare, even against the ground itself. Helga and I will put our sections of the school where it makes sense. She will keep close to the ground and use the good earth to grow, and I will delve into the deeps, both under the ground and the depths of magic.

I have taken my apprentices into the dungeons and begun to build. Where there were once empty halls and rooms we have constructed libraries, classrooms, and dormitories. We have hidden our areas, behind false walls and architectural tricks. The others will expect me to use magic to hide but I have chosen artistic creativity. Godric is fine with teaching the students to defend themselves, but when I mention offensive magics he balks. He says my ways are too dark. Foolish of him.

But he doesn’t have my memories. He has never seen what they do. He has never heard the screams. Killing them is almost a mercy. They live in squalor with nothing but war and illness to look forward to. I don’t hate them, I pity them. But at the end of things there is no way that I can ever forgive them. They took from me what was most precious and for that I couldn’t care less if my students go on a killing spree in the muggle world when they leave here. Just so long as none of them burn.

Helen closed the journal and set it aside. She had been woken by a nightmare and reading seemed like a good alternative to tossing and turning the rest of the night. It got her wondering if there were other libraries for each of the founders. She didn’t think it likely that Gryffindor had a huge section of his dedicated to his journals. It was likely that he had a few, but nothing like the prolific writings of her ancestor. That had been an unneeded revelation, that her ancestors and Voldemort’s had been intimate. Admittedly, Voldemort’s relation was more direct, but there was still a level of relation. She kind of wanted to gag at that thought. Gods bless intermarrying.

The more she read of Slytherin’s journals the more she started to understand him. He had lost his family during the burnings. A group of muggles had found them and understood that they were using magic. Salazar had been away, his wife was training their twin daughters to use magic while he and his son helped Godric lead a group of wizards and witches to safety. He arrived too late to stop them. He witnessed their final moments. She couldn’t fault him for what he did next. In his rage he laid waste to the village and its inhabitants. He killed everyone who had cheered as his family died.

She had hopes that if she understood these journals she would start to understand Voldemort better. She had gained a better understanding of Slytherin, but she wasn’t so sure she understood old Moldywarts any better. Dumbledore was busy training her to fight the man, she wanted to understand him.

She sighed, that wasn’t going to happen quickly. But if the ultimate goal was for them to fight each other than she would have to know how he thought so that she could counteract his moves. Her thoughts were interrupted by the tolling of the bell-tower, it was now early enough that she could go and shower and prepare for her day. When she was done with her shower she began the task of drying her hair. She hadn’t had a trim in a while now and it was starting to grow past her waist. She would have to do something about that soon. Either tie it up or get a trim. One way or another though she would have to do something before quidditch.

She grabbed her own diary and began to write, “I finished the third journal today. Salazar is something of a glass half empty kind of guy. It seems to me that he is so caught up in his grief that he can’t see beyond it. In his earliest journal he was a happy enough dark wizard. At least, as happy as a dark wizard seems to get. Kind of hard to call him a dark wizard though, he studied it, but his early work was about defense and the ability to combat when necessary. It wasn’t until the death of his family that he truly started to study the dark arts.

The biggest tell is that the arts he was studying aren’t what we would have considered dark. At least not a first. After a millennium of growth we have started to understand that several of the arts they called dark at that time were nothing more than the use of bloods and other animal elements. The use of something more living than a plant seems to have been considered dark. Now we know that so long as those elements are collected humanely there is nothing wrong with their use.

As he started to build Hogwarts’s dungeon levels he finally started to delve into the true dark arts. It seems that the deeper he delved into the ground the deeper he delved into darkness. I am almost afraid of what the deepest reaches of the dungeons hold, or his chamber. I am wondering what could get so big that it couldn’t be hidden. I am also terrified of what it could be. Perhaps Hermione will have an idea. It’s almost time for breakfast.

How much longer will I have to put up with these dreams? I know who’s laugh it is. I think I have always known. Voldemort’s high pitched laugh as he killed my mother. The sound of him taking joy from my mum’s death and the flash of green rushing at me. Not at her, but at me. She stepped in the way, it’s the only way for her to have died. He wanted her to watch, I’m sure of that. He wanted her to see me die, and to lose hope before he killed her. To gloat over how love didn’t conquer. I read that traumatic memories are harder to process, but what happens when they are your earliest memory?”

She closed her diary and locked it. The great hall was open, so she may as well go enjoy breakfast. She was starting to miss the family wing. Especially her wards. Maybe she would be allowed to visit, or even help. She could always ask. But that would mean breaching the layer between professor and family. They didn’t seem to like that idea very much.

Helen was feeling it, and she was honestly surprised. She was homesick. She had noticed that everyone was going through it to some level or another, but she had thought that she would be immune. She had grown up in Hogwarts, almost her entire year was spent in these halls. But everything was different this year. Uncle Albus was Professor Dumbledore, Auntie Minnie was Professor McGonagall, and her dad was Professor Snape. She knew there would be some differences between them, but she didn’t expect to feel so disconnected from the family that had adopted her. She would have thought dinner with her dad would have lessened that feeling, but instead it seemed to have heightened it.

Perhaps the saddest thing she could think of was that her family wasn’t sending her letters. Yea, she saw them every day, but there was nothing personal about their interactions. She wrote to them regularly, but she didn’t seem to be getting responses. The closest she had gotten was a letter from Dumbledore telling her about their next class.

She wasn’t the only one, just the other night she and Hermione had sat up on Helen’s bed talking about Hermione’s home and all the things she missed. Helen was sure they were much closer after Hermione spent an hour crying in her arms.

She didn’t know what to do about her own feelings though. She was at home, with her family. She just didn’t understand why she was feeling this way. She was glad it was the weekend though, because feeling like this and having to take notes at the same time just didn’t seem conductive to good note taking strategies. She continued around the lake, completing her third circuit with her mind still running on ahead of her.

Hermione was sitting by the tree, a small blue fire in a jar to keep her warm, having opted out of the extra laps. Helen didn’t mind, she thought that maybe a little solitude would help her think. Of all the people here though she just didn’t understand her homesickness.

She finished her final lap and settled next to Hermione, her chilled hands close to the jar, “I still don’t get it, but whatever.”

“Things are different, you’re adjusting as fast as you can. Just give it time, okay.”

“It’s bloody cold out here. I think we should start our indoor jogs tomorrow.”

“Nice subject change, but I agree. I’m actually surprised the weather has held up this well.”

“I need to warm up, come on.”

Helen stood and as she did her eyes were caught by a smoking chimney on the edge of the forest. Her face lit in a smile as an idea occurred to her. If there was one person at Hogwarts that would still treat her the same it was Hagrid. He could be named headmaster and he wouldn’t change. Hermione didn’t question the change in direction, the promise of warmth seemed to have made the point moot, but Helen felt a need to give some advice.

“We are going for tea, but Hagrid is going to offer you all manner of food he has made, just say no. I love him to pieces, but he’s a dreadful cook.”

“And Hagrid is the large gentleman who took us across on the boats?”

“Correct. He’s the gamekeeper, so he’s pretty wild, in personality as well as appearance. But he’s a perfectly lovely soul.”

A voice called out from across the lawns, “Helen, Hermione, wait up!”

Helen grinned as Draco came running up to them, “Hello Draco, and how are you today?”

“That Weasley prat is dreadful!” He complained. “He hexed poor Nina. I had to take her to the hospital wing.”

“Why would he do such a thing?” Helen asked shocked.

“He was looking for you and she refused to open the portrait to let him in. McGonagall is furious. Assigned him to detention every night for the next three weeks.”

Helen knocked on Hagrid’s door, “Hagrid? It’s Helen, are you home?”

The door burst open to a grinning face and a thick unkept beard, “Helen! Aright there are ya? Come on in, but watch your step, there is a puppy running around.”

Hermione and Helen settled at the table, but as soon as Draco saw the puppy running around between their legs he settled on the floor to play with it. It was a tiny three headed dog, black fur with brown spots and dark brown eyes. It jumped right into Draco’s lap and all three heads started to lick his face. Helen couldn’t help but smile, Hagrid was always bringing something strange home, so why not a three headed dog.

“I like your new friend, whats his name?”

“Her name, and I haven’ named her yet. Jus’ born, whole litter of the precious pups. She’s the runt o’ the litter.”

Draco cooed at the pup, “You’re no runt, you’re adorable. Who’s a precious lil trio?”

Helen shook her head, “Wherever did you get a three headed puppy?”

“Well, from a three headed dog o’ course. Got their mama off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las’ year. Didn’ find out she was carry’n till I got her back.”

“What are you going to do with this one?” Draco said in a baby voice.

“Well, I don’ rightly know.” Hagrid scratched at his beard, “Fluffy is enough on her own she is, I got to find them pups a good home.”

Draco looked up happily, “What about me? She already loves me!”

Helen scratched the left head behind the ear, “He wouldn’t be a bad choice, Hagrid. Besides his family having the money to care for the sprout he’s almost as animal crazy as you.”

“I am not,”  Draco snapped indignantly.

“You tried to breed one of the albino peacocks with a parrot so you could have colorful talking peacocks.”

“And I was going to name them peaotts, whats your point?”

The little three headed pup lifted its leg and let a stream hit the wall. Helen shook her head and grabbed a copy of the Daily Profit, she shook loose a few pages and handed them to Draco to start absorbing the mess. She was about to set the paper down when the front page caught her eye.

“Someone broke into Gringotts? That’s daring.”

“Aye, ain’t get nothin’ though. All they really don’ was stir up trouble.”

Helen shook her head, “True, it’s strange they would go through all that trouble and not realize the vault had been emptied that day though. If you are going to do the recon to get passed security you would think they would know the vault was emptied.”

She noticed at once that Hagrid wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. Her curiosity was peeked, whatever was going on obviously involved the gamekeeper, and if it involved him then it definitely involved Dumbledore and Hogwarts. If that was true then whatever it was must be in the third floor corridor and apparently guarded by Fluffy. She couldn’t say she remembered things being this interesting when she wasn’t a student.

Helen knocked on the door and waited for the call to enter. The room was decorated with tartan throws and comfortable furniture. Not the type of place you would expect to find the strict Professor McGonagall. But there she was, sitting on the couch and reading a new transfiguration text. As soon as she saw Helen enter the door she rushed to her feet.

“Helen dear, it's about time you visited. How are you adjusting?”

Helen smiled, “I am doing okay Professor. I was wondering, is it permitted for me to visit the family wing still? I would like to visit at least.”

McGonagall nodded, “You’re allowed, there is no rule that says that students can’t visit that area of the castle, they just tend not to.”

“Thank you professor.”

Helen started to leave but McGonagall called after her, “Is that all you wanted?”

Helen nodded, “Yes ma’am, I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

She left the office and started to make her way to the second floor. The heads of houses each had their own apartment close to their houses, but the rest of the teachers were in the residential wing. Helen stepped up to a picture of a witch busy at the stove and smiled at the woman.

“Hello, password Tea Time.”

“Welcome back Helen.”

“Thank you matron. Have you been well?”

“I can’t complain. The monks keep trying to steal my pies, but besides that all is normal.”

The portrait swung open and Helen stepped into the family wing. There weren’t many professors with children right now, but that was okay. The pictures here were all former professors and their families and they waved and shouted greetings as she passed. Helen returned the greetings and stopped at the door she was looking for. She opened the door and within seconds found herself being squished by multiple pairs of arms. She knelt and squeezed each of the three children in turn.

The boy was six, he had dark black hair and piercing blue eyes. His name was Jack, and Helen had helped care for him since his birth. Jane and Judy were nine and they were twins. They both had blond hair and brown eyes that looked inquisitive. They were three of Helen’s favorite people. Jane and Judy belonged to Professor Kettleburn, the Care of Magic Creatures professor, and Jack was Professor Vector’s little one. Helen put Jack on her hip and led the girls back into the play room. Oscar and Oliver still stalked from frame to frame watching over the students. The two cats, one white and one black kept their golden eyes trained on them. They had a frame in Madam Pomphrey’s office, just in case.

She settled into the large armchair and all three squeezed in with her, “Oh no, one of you needs to go and fetch the book. Which chapter were we on?”

Judy dashed to the bookshelf and returned with the well-worn copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Helen smiled and began to read. Judy and Jane were a little old for the fairytales, but that didn’t stop them from listening with rapt attention. She was glad she could still come here. It made her feel a little more settled.

Helen and Hermione entered the Headmaster’s office and were waved into chairs. Albus was resplendent in robes of deep purple with a star motif, he sat peering over the edge of his half-moon spectacles before nodding and once again closing the shutters and casting the room into darkness. This time the silver instrument emitted dozens upon dozens of glowing wands, each different yet basically the same. Dispersed among the wands were hairs, feathers, heart strings, quills and a host of other parts.

“Today we will talk more about the focus of magic. We will start with the focus you are most familiar with, specifically wands. Few wizards study wandlore, but it is a most interesting branch of magic. Both the tree and core are required to have certain properties, and those properties must be properly combined to make a functioning wand. Just like not all trees are wand quality, not all branches are. The same goes for cores, no two elements are the same and many of them will fail when set into a wand.

“This harmony between two parts of magic, the living and the natural, combine to create a focal tool for us to exert our will.” He pulled his own wand out of his sleeve, “All wands inherit strength from their wood and spirit from their core. This is also how the wand chooses the wizard as Mister Olivander would put it. There is truth to that statement though. The wands we use can sense our powers, our intentions, and our ambitions. They decide if they are willing to be used by the wizard.”

Helen frowned at that, “So there are wands that choose dark wizards.”

“Yes, there are. Every one of us has darkness within our nature, and sometimes the aspect of the core is from the darker nature of the donor. We may not like this, but it is a truth of nature that it exists in a balance between light and dark. Some of us are out of balance, we give too much to either side and lose sight of what is truly important. Views like the greater good, or blood purity are created by two sides of the same coin. But they believe they are different from one another.

“Over the next seven years you’ll learn to use your wands, but those aren’t the only tools open to you. From crystal balls, stirring rods, swords, gems, and staves you will find there are many ways to focus your energy. Today we will practice focusing without a focus. Focusing through yourself is one of the hardest bits of magic, but if you have been practicing you should be able to get some results. Now, I believe this room is rather dark, you have both successfully conjured flames with a wand, replicate that feeling without one.”

It sounded so easy. Just focus and push, but they quickly learned it was anything but. The stumbling block was what it felt like to conjure that flame. Normally the wand was responsible for sending the energy to the candle or even the air, but they realized that their thoughts and needs created the impetus that directed the wand.

Helen held her hand out, a white taper just in front of it and thought about that. She didn’t need light, but she wanted it. The light of a candle would be warm and bright, it would clear the shadows around her and allow her to see. The flame itself would be hungry, attached to the wick that let it consume the candle wax and air around it. As it ate it would grow warm and that heat and light would radiate around the room, it would touch all within it with the promise of its power but also be harnessed to provide for them.

She felt a tingle run from her heart down through her arm and out her fingers, suddenly the room was lit by a single glow, it was followed shortly by a second. She and Hermione opened their eyes to find two candles with their flames dancing in the drafts of the room. Once they were proficient lighting the candles they moved on to extinguishing the candles. It was a different feeling, pushing the air in the room around them, giving them to much of what they needed all at once to make them go out. A sudden hard gust would lift the flame from its wick and it would gutter in the air, extinguished by its own needs.

“I am pleased with your progress ladies.” He placed two oil lamps on the desk between them, two bottles of oil, and two fire extinguishers, “Your practice till our next lesson will be more difficult. You are to light and extinguish the lamps. But be warned if you aren’t focused properly you will light the oils within the lamp. These are muggle fire extinguishers, useful should you not only do so but also lose control of your flame. Now, it grows late. Go and rest, and when we meet again we will delve deeper into new mysteries!”

They left the office and started back to the dorm, Helen breaking the silence when they were a fair bit away from the gargoyle, “Do you get the feeling that we are learning elementalism?”

“We have manipulated water, fire, and air, so yes, I do. It’s a pretty big deal, few wizards get a chance to learn this type of magic.”

“Have you noticed that our spells are getting more powerful? We are going to have to be careful to focus from now on, control the punch behind them. It wouldn’t look good if we levitated the whole of charms class.”

Hermione giggled, “Yes, but imagine how many points Professor Flitwick would award.”

Draco had named his new best friend Trina and she was quickly nicknamed the menace of the common room. Draco was working with her on training, but she had a habit of peeing everywhere when she was in a mood, which was whenever Draco was involved in something else. Such as classes. But the whole of Gryffindor was willing to cut her a lot of slack because she was proving to be a loving addition to their house.

Helen and Hermione were becoming more aware of their own energy and how much of that energy they put into their spells. Helen was starting to wonder if this wasn’t what Dumbledore went through casting simple spells. Of course, he didn’t cast many simple spells these days. But the realization had caused her to take to the dungeons to start practicing her spells without limitations. Her first year spell book lay forgotten on the floor of the arena she was using and she had copies of years two and three from the library. As she worked on the more advanced spells she came to the realization that the years weren’t separated strictly by age, it took more power and control to cast the more advanced spells. She also worked on her elemental control filling a pool with water and making it dance around the room. As time went on she tried fire and had success making it do the same, but it took on some characteristics she hadn’t foreseen. The fire took on the shape of a dragon, its flaming wings opened wide as it sped around the room.

The biggest surprise she got was when she started to play with air. There was minor dust in the room, but for the most part you couldn’t see air. But when she brought the energy together and started to move it around it took on the form of a giant hawk. It kicked up dust motes and fluttered the moth eaten tapestries around the room. She let it soar around before sending it streaking at one of the training dummies in the room. It soared into it and the thing exploded in a shower of wood and metal.

She was feeling more and more comfortable as the days passed, both with school and her extra classes. She was excited for the Halloween feast that night, and concentrating on classes wasn’t as high on her list as it should have been, but she had to admit that it seemed a fair bit higher than her fellow students. Getting through the day was a challenge and it wasn’t just because she was distracted. If some student could find a way to foul up their spells, potions, or classes in general they did. Hermione and Helen were laughing as they made their way to the great hall.

“I still can’t believe Seamus’s hedgehog got stuck to the ceiling. How do his spells always go so wrong?” Hermione grabbed a spot at the Gryffindor table.

“What about Nina hugging Professor Snape when he told her that her potion was acceptable, today is so strange.”

They both broke out laughing at the memory before filling their plates. It got better when Nina came slinking into the great hall, as red as a Weasley’s hair. She came and settled next to them and Helen couldn’t resist throwing her arm around the smaller girl.

“Don’t worry Nina,” Helen advised, “I guarantee that Professor Snape was just as embarrassed as you were.”

“I still can’t believe I did that,” she moaned, “just flinging my arms around him like that. He probably thinks I’m a nutter.”

“No, he probably thinks you were overcome.”

Hermione nodded, “He didn’t take points off, did he?”

“I suppose not.” Nina looked around the table, “Have you seen Fred and George? I saw them following their brother on the second floor.”

Helen looked at Hermione, “You don’t think this is about him cursing Nina, do you?”

“With Fred and George? Of course I do. I hope they don’t get caught.”

“Hermione Granger, rule breaker.”

Nina started filling her plate but the doors suddenly burst open, Professor Quarrel rushing toward the head table. Everyone stopped at the force of his entrance but his shouts of trolls in the dungeon roused everyone from their frozen state. Helen and Hermione maintained their seats as the hall broke into chaos around them. Dumbledore called for silence and then sent them back to their dorms under the watchful eyes of the prefects.

“Listen, George, Fred, and Ron have no idea what is going on, we need to find them.”

Hermione nodded, “Nina said they were on the second floor, I would say that is far enough away from the dungeons to look for them.”

They waited until Percy was distracted and slipped away down one of the secret passageways. Hermione suggested they start their search in the areas near the main stairs since Nina had seen them on her way to the great hall. They didn’t have any luck until they heard raised voices coming from one of the boys' loos.

“Think you’re cleaver don’t you, picking on a little girl?”

“How about now you mangy git? Still think you’re cleaver, still think it’s funny to curse people?”

Helen and Hermione broke into a run and pushed through the bathroom door. The twins had Ron under their wands, sending jinxes at him while he lay on the floor crying. Helen didn’t think, her wand slipped from her sleeve, and she caused the water from the stalls to swirl around Ron stopping the spells.

“Enough of this, he’s your own brother.”

Fred glared at her, “He’s no brother of ours if he is going to pick on the weak.”

“What about you George?” Hermione asked as she brought her own wand up. “Is he your brother?”

“He’ll always be my brother, but he needs a good slap.”

“You gave him that.” Helen looked toward the door, “Now, what say we leave here before…”

The door opened and they gagged on the smell that came through. It was like standing in a garbage dump on a hot summer's day, but that was nothing compared to the misshapen head and the huge hulking figure that pushed itself through the doorway. When it stood up its head was at least twelve feet off the ground. Helen and Hermione stepped in front of the others; their wands trained on the troll.

“You use the water,” Helen instructed, “I’ll use fire.”

Hermione glanced at her, “Helen, there is no fire in this room.”

Helen smirked as she watched the troll swing its club at the water serpent trying to smash the unsmashable. She hadn’t tried this before, but if she could conjure flame for a candle, she could do more than that. Suddenly her wand poured a column of flame, it streamed out and took on its dragon form before joining the fight against the troll. Helen couldn’t spare more than a glance as she heard the door open again, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape entering the room.

Helen’s dragon slashed at the troll, driving it back toward the wall while Hermione’s serpent wrapped itself around the troll’s legs and held them tight. As the troll fell and the water serpent crawled further up its body Helen killed the flames and formed a swan of snow, it swam along the serpent turning it into ice as it went, trapping the troll.

Helen let her arm fall to her side and settled to the floor, her back against the wall, “That was intense.”

Hermione joined her, “Yes, but I think we’re getting good at this.”

Dumbledore shook his head, “You need more practice. Now, what are you doing here instead of your dorm?”

Snape looked down at Ron and scowled, “And perhaps one of you can explain what happened to Mister Weasley here.”

Fred stepped up, “We did that to Ron, Professor. He cursed Nina and we decided to teach him a lesson.”

“You don’t think detention was enough of a lesson,” McGonagall snapped. “You will find out, you will both be serving detentions for the next two weeks, and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor. As to you two…”

Dumbledore held up his hand, “As foolhardy as it was of them to rush off, I believe they handled the situation quite well. Twenty points to Gryffindor, each, for standing between students and danger.”

Helen tried to stand but her legs buckled, “Don’t even have the energy to give a proper cheer right now Professor.”

“Not surprising Miss Potter, you have been doing magic well beyond your level for some time now. Severus, why don’t you take these three to the hospital wing while Minerva and I sort out these two.”

“Yes Headmaster.”

He conjured stretchers under all three of them and floated them down the hall. Helen was starting to worry about his silence until she finally saw the gap that had opened between her and the others. Severus shook his head, his eyes searching her for injuries.

“Grey hairs, young lady. I am blaming every one of them I find on you.”

Helen grinned, “Sorry dad, I didn’t really plan on slugging it out with a troll tonight.”

“Well, it’s good to see you are keeping up with Albus’s lessons.”

Helen looked at Severus and got worried, “What’s happened to your leg?”

Severus scowled, “I went to check on the third floor corridor to make sure it was secure. I found it rather odd that a troll made it passed all the wards. I forgot about Hagrid’s addition to the security.”

“Security, what are you securing in a school?”

“Nothing that involves you. A friend of Albus’s had something that needed to be kept safe. His worry turned out to be warranted as the vault he kept it in was robbed.”

“So, that’s what was cleared out of Gringotts. Curious that they put the effort into finding a way into the bank but didn’t realize it was gone.”

“Albus says it’s safe, but I have my worries.” He shook his head, “I shouldn’t be telling you all this, but you’re too curious for your own good. You get that from your parents. Have you noticed anything strange?”

Her hand fluttered to the scar on her forehead, “As a matter of fact, I’ve found the my scar aches during defense class. I just thought it was because of some of the stuff in the room, or all the garlic.”

She could see the wheels turning in his head, something about this bothered him. She didn’t get much time to think about it before they entered the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey began to fuss over her.

“And what have you done to yourself this time Helen?”

“Just a bit of magical exhaustion Auntie Poppy. I over did it.”

“You always are. Never fear, a bit of care and you’ll be right as rain.” She turned to Severus, “And what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing you old harpy.”

“I’ll bet, sit down and let me see that leg.”

“You’re not my mother.”

“No, she wouldn’t have put up with your cheek, now sit!”

Helen laughed, Poppy was forever giving her dad a hard time about everything from his diet to the burns he got while making potions. She was the perfect person to be the school’s matron in Helen’s opinion. She understood healing, knew when to use a spell and when to use a potion, and sourced her stock from the best maker they both knew.

“That burn salve is losing effectiveness, I’ll brew you some new stock tonight. Is there anything else you need?”

“Yes,” she tutted, “I need you to sleep. The potions can wait a day, Severus. Are you still having trouble sleeping then?”

“Only for the last twelve years Poppy, that isn’t going to change.”

“Take something to help you sleep dear, I know you have enough choices.”

“It isn’t falling asleep or staying asleep that’s the problem, it’s dealing with the dreams the day after. No, I will exhaust myself as always, then sleep. I’ve taken enough dreamless to last a lifetime.”

Helen woke to the feeling of being watched, it was a feeling she wasn’t a fan of. She pushed herself up in the bed and looked toward the red headed source of that feeling. Ron Weasley was looking at her as if he had never seen her before and was trying to figure out just what she was.

“Why did you stop them? You seem to hate me, so it doesn’t make much sense.”

“I don’t hate you Ronald, I just dislike you. Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself?  You seem so focused on what you have, the things you lack, and wanting more. You judge people on the most basic factors. But the worst of all, you don’t care how you treat people.”

Helen was surprised to see tears rolling down his cheeks. Whatever he was feeling right now was obviously overwhelming and she wasn’t sure she was the best person to help him with whatever it was. Hermione was still asleep though, so it looked like she was the only one.

“I don’t understand how you can act like this, I’ve met your brothers and your parents, they are such warm giving people.”

“I grew up dirt poor,” he said bitterly. “My parents were hoping for a girl when I came along and another boy was the last thing they wanted. Fudge was still minister when I was born and dad was stuck in a dead end department. I grew up in ratty old hand me downs, every toy I ever had was already used, even my room had been an afterthought.”

“Ambition is okay,” Helen informed him, “my dad is your head of house and he has loads of ambition. But he doesn’t step on others to get ahead. What is it you want out of life?”

“I want to be somebody. I want people to respect me, to not see a poor kid with a nobody family.”

“Everybody is somebody, Ronald. I know how life is, it usually feels like you’re trying to swim through mud against the current, but you have a family that loves you and you aren’t a poor kid anymore.”

“It still feels that way. I see the way people look at us, like we are nothing.”

“Some people will always do that. Your dad isn’t exactly the most popular person in the pure blood circles. They don’t appreciate us getting involved with muggles, they don’t like the new laws for the protection of muggles, and they don’t like the man making all of that happen or his family. Your dad is a great man and important people are starting to see that. The real question is what do you want?”

Ron looked up from his knotted fingers, “You won’t laugh?”

“Not even a giggle.”

“I want to play Quidditch. I want to be on those posters in kids rooms and have them run up to me for autographs when they see me. I want their parents to shake my hand and tell me what a great job I did. To play in the World Cup and feel the elation of all those people in the stands.”

Helen nodded, “Sounds like a good plan, so why don’t you do it?”

“No money. Without a good broom I can’t really practice and get better, can I?”

Helen had an idea, but the question was would her dad go for it. A good Cleansweep could be done with some hard work. Helen had saved for months to afford her nimbus and her dad had still had to help her buy it. This weekend they would be going into the forest to gather ingredients and a special order. Olivander needed wood that was wand worthy, they were going to find it. Another hand would allow them to work faster but also allow them to gather even more. Helen couldn’t handle pulling the cart, but Ron was a good sized bloke, she was sure he could manage.

“I’ll have a talk with dad, we are gathering supplies and could use someone to help with the physical labor. A decent broom will probably only take a few small jobs and if dad likes your work ethic he is sure to use you for more.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

Helen had to think about that, “I’m honestly not sure. Part of it is for your brothers, but I think deep down you’re a good guy. So why not help you realize that potential.”

“You’re going to help me be a better person?”

Helen shrugged, “I’m going to try if you let me. Besides, I don’t think you can afford anymore detentions.”