Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

The trial was a farce, and they all knew it, yet Odin insisted on carrying it out all the same. Loki offered no resistance, resigned to his fate. No one defended him, and why would they? They had never liked him, never accepted him as he was, and assumed him guilty in all things. Ever since he had shown a proclivity for magic over swordplay, ever since they knew he could shift from male to female at will, he was assumed untrustworthy and freakish. The Liesmith.

Granted, he was at least partially guilty in the attempted take over of Miðgarðr, but the Mad Titan turning his brain into Swiss cheese should count for something; not that he was able to even mention that bit, nor was he inclined to even if he could. Odin could go hang for all he cared, and all of Asgarðr along with him. Thor was speaking now, but why? Oh, right, the great oaf was actually speaking in his defense, so sure that the All-Father would listen to him. Odin had never listened to anyone other than himself for as long as Loki had known him. He took heart that at least his brother in all but blood was by his side, but Loki had no faith in Odin the way Thor did.

“Loki, you have been found guilty of the crimes charged to you.” Odin proclaimed, his voice ringing out over the crowd of onlookers. No faith at all, Loki thought as he sneered though it was unseen behind the muzzle. “For your crimes, you are sentenced to experience a mortal life on Miðgarðr, that you may grow to respect the lives you have tried to conquer. Do you have any final words?”

Loki just looked away.

“Very well.”

…

A father too stubborn to admit his own failings, and a son too tired to continue yielding to his father’s pride. The Norns watched the trial, unseen by all but one. Loki son of Asgarðr stared at them for one long moment, before turning his gaze away in shame, assuming he had disappointed them. His had always been a hard thread to read, Odin having interfered with the weave of Loki’s fate on more than one occasion in his obsession to stave off Ragnarök; as if he understood what that even was. As it was, Odin was getting ready to change Loki’s fate once more, but this time the Norns had had enough, and were now taking measures to repair Loki’s thread.

Death too hung around Loki. After Thanos had taken and tortured Loki to the point where he should have gone mad, it had lit up Loki’s soul enough that Death itself had taken notice. Being beyond Time as it was, it knew this was the moment the Norns would choose what became of him, no matter what Odin tried to do. Maybe…Maybe it could make a request on the god’s behalf. There was nothing left for either of them to lose.

“Please, before you decide his fate, I would make a request of you.” Death begged, floating before them, a spectre in dark cloth. “Something happened, changed, and…The one fated to be my Master was…not born, and it has thrown things out of balance. Surely you have felt it. I would ask that Loki take his place. He could be my Master.”

The Norns look to each other and back again, before Urd asks. “Why does he intrigue you so?”

“His soul shines.” Death tried to explain. “He has the strength. He lasted against the torture of the Mad Titan Thanos, Ebony Maw, and The Other for over a year. He was clever enough to comply with the mind control placed on him, while also finding ways to help others stop him. He could be my Master.”

“What are you suggesting we do?” Verðanði asked, sensing the threads changes already though they had agreed to nothing.

“Odin will force Loki to live a mortal life, but if he does this as he is now, Loki will be taken and locked away, something I am sure Odin knows. Loki will not have the chance to learn the humility Odin claims to want for his son.” Death replied, turning for a moment as if to scowl at the god. “Take his soul when Odin banishes him, send it back to when my Master was to be born. Loki will be safe, at least from Odin, while he goes through the trials needed to test my Master. Odin will not be able to find him till after he has grown to become his own being, whatever that turns out to be.”

“And how do you expect him to remain hidden till he is grown?” Skuld asked, intrigued. “Odin will know what we have done as soon as it happens, and messing with Time usually does not end well. Even if Odin of the past did not sense something amiss, in the past and present there is still Heimdall.”

“There is a secret community of magic users on Miðgarðr, hidden from Odin as a 10^th realm.” Death explains with a mischievous lilt to their voice.

“Giving him the strength needed to overcome the will of Gungnir, and hiding him from Heimdall and Odin.” Urd concluded. “This is better than anything we had prepared. I say we do it. We won’t get a better chance than the one that is before us now.”

“Perhaps we should let Loki choose, yes?” Verðanði suggested, and the others looked sheepishly between them. Loki was unfrozen, and surprised by the lack of movement from those around him, when Death removed his muzzle.

“Is Odin’s fate for me so terrible that Death has chosen to spare me of it?” Loki asked in confusion. “Thor managed. What there could be worse than what I have endured already?”

“Thor was not wanted for crimes against an entire planet.” Death pointed out. “Shield would lock you up before you ever had the chance to heal or grow. The Norns were set to intervene, but I asked for a favour, the chance for you to earn your place as my Master. Will you accept?”

“But…” Loki couldn’t process it, and finally settled on the one thing he could. “You know what that would mean! We’d stand no chance!”

“If we were not sending your soul back in time, that would be true.” Skuld pointed out, bringing his attention to her. “You will be sent to a realm Odin does not control, yet still on Miðgarðr.”

“I can scarcely believe it, my lady.” Loki admitted, not wanting to sound ungrateful. It was beyond his imagining. “What realm could exist on Miðgarðr that is beyond Odin’s control?”

“The Seiðr on Miðgarðr hid themselves away, making all but the Fates forget them, in order to save themselves from extinction. They will not remain hidden forever, but by then they will be ready, as will you; should you choose to accept this offer.” Urd continued. “The path to become the Master of Death is not an easy one, and you would not even know you are on it. You could fail, and this could all be for naught. Would you still choose this, knowing what is coming?”

“I can not promise an easy life, but I can promise that you will never be alone, even if it appears that way.” Death informed him.

Loki looked down as he thought about what he wanted. Thanos would come whether he chose this life or not, but what would their chances be if he didn’t at least try? Memories he had not thought about since he’d been freed of Thanos’ control suddenly came springing to his mind. The Seiðr on Miðgarðr, he’d been there before…how had he forgotten?…watching a young witch that had magic almost exactly like his own, even his eyes. He’d been utterly fascinated by someone so much like himself, of the prospect of having family that he could connect with besides his mother.

Unfortunately, he had been unable to determine just how she was connected to him. Unwilling to chance the possibility of Heimdall finding her, and thus bringing her to the attention of Odin, Loki had left after giving her his blessing upon her magic. How ironic that he hadn’t noticed just how closely her magic resembled his own, or that he hadn’t thought of why. She’d resembled him so much that he’d kept going back, trying to figure it out; even when his mind had not been entirely his own, she’d showed up time and time again. Even during the invasion, that fight…to be able to keep up with him the way she had…

It hadn’t dawned on him that the reason why was because she was him. A god unselfishly twice blessed with their own magic? Such a thing had never happened before, and yet the chance to see what would happen was too good to pass up. He looked back up again to the Norns and Death, who were waiting patiently. He knew exactly what he would do, because…he’d already done it, whether they knew it or not. The choice had already been made, and he could not find it within himself to regret giving up everything to make it.

“Can you tell Thor?” Loki asks. He might as well say this while the big golden retriever that was his brother couldn’t hear him; not that it mattered. Though he didn’t know it, one of the Norns already had released Thor for this meeting, so he hears it anyway. “I know that I give him a hard time, but…he is my brother.”

July 31^st 1980

Hera Primrose Potter is born blue; literally. It takes a while for her skin to turn the normal colour Caucasian babies tend to be, and she caused the healer to have an extreme case of frostbite before they’d realized it was coming from her. It’s like she had frost giant blood in her veins or something; blood garnet red eyes, blue skin, raised line markings, all that, exactly like the stories. When her skin clears, so too do her eyes, into the most vibrant emerald green they’d ever seen. James figured babies eyes were supposed to be blue for the first little while, but his child was already defying standards.

Of course, she would defy standards! She was his little ball of mischief and chaos, his little blueberry. Lily had pointblank refused to allow him to name the child Loki when they thought it was a boy, but she was against it doubly so now that the sex of the baby was confirmed to be a girl. So Hera it was, in the hopes that she would be both protected and protector, that all who crossed her would fear her wrath and vengeance. Lily gave her the middle name Primrose, to honour her family’s tradition of flower names for their girls, in the hopes it would remind her to cherish whatever happiness she can find in life; no matter what troubles life may bring.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

1991/ 1^st year

Hera Potter woke to the screeching sound of Aunt Petunia demanding for her to get up and make breakfast. The odd dream slowly faded into the background as she got ready for the morning, and if she tried to remember hard enough the details seemed to fade. She had to put it out of her mind if she didn’t want to get distracted and burn the bacon again anyway. Last time she did that, Aunt Petunia hit her across the face and threw her in the cupboard for the day. Quickly, she rushed through her ablutions, and made her way to the kitchen.

Cooking was the one thing she actually liked to do. She knew that she was good at it, despite what the Dursleys said. No matter how much they complained, or pretended it hadn’t been her who’d made it, they still ate what she gave them. Besides, she remembered eating her Aunt Petunia’s cooking once, such as it was. Granted, the woman had done the bare minimum because she hated Hera, but if that was genuinely how she cooked…Well, it was better that Hera did it.

She shoved that dream aside, as she had so many others like it, and got to work. It was one of her secrets anyway, a cherished thing, even if she didn’t understand what it meant. She put it alongside the dream about flying motorcycles, feeling that it was too precious to share with the Dursleys, even if she’d been a man getting ready to be sentenced; that man had called her…him Loki. There was something in the air that made her think of magic, not that that was real, but that hadn’t been the only one like it that she’d had. The Dursleys were always saying that magic wasn’t real, followed by ‘don’t ask questions’, or vice versa. After breakfast, it was time for her to check the mail, and as she stared at a letter for Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, she wondered what else the Dursleys had been lying to her about.

...

She waited till she was in her cupboard to open it, having shoved it down her blouse before it could be seen by anyone. It certainly explained a lot, but she also knew that if she were to take this to them, there would be some kind of attempt to keep her away from magic. She decided it was better if she went to London herself, and thankfully there was directions for where in London she needed to go to shop for her supplies. It was nothing then in the wee hours of the morning to break out of her cupboard, and take the money she knew Aunt Petunia kept in her purse for when she made Hera ‘help the neighbors’; it should hardly count as stealing since it was her money. When the Dursleys woke up enough to make it downstairs, they would find it devoid of her, and only a note on the table.

‘I know’

Where the Dursleys liked to pretend she didn’t exist, in between making sure she was as miserable as possible, finding her way to the Leaky Cauldron was actually no hardship. The owner even let her through the back and into Diagon Alley. He’d given her a spot of advice, to go to Gringotts first, even pointing the building out to her. This must not be his first time seeing a child alone like this, with parents or guardians that hated magic. While the goblins weren’t happy that she didn’t have her vault key, when she explained things they were more than understanding, and issued her a new one; the matter of getting other peoples sticky fingers out of it for things like monument upkeep was really a side benefit.

She didn’t stick to the list. Who would? She could finally have clothes that fit, have her eyesight corrected, order lots of books, prank items, (Was that a store dedicated to chocolate? Why, yes. Yes, it was), a trunk with very specific specifications, all kinds of things, and so she did. They’d charmed her glasses to be unbreakable, and to look like they had glass in them when they didn’t. The only purchase she made that day that she wasn’t sure about was the snowy owl that had sort of adopted her and refused to let go, but that was only because she was sure that the Dursleys would try to kill them both when she went back; and she would have to go back. She wasn’t so foolish as to think she could live on her own out of the trunk or something, but if she were to have outfitted it with everything she needed to keep house, and if it was fully stocked thanks to a trip to non magical London then all the better. The Dursleys pretend she doesn’t exist when she gets back, which gives her the time to look over her books in her new room (Dudley’s second one).

Someone comes to get her anyway, a rather tall man who went by Hagrid. She’d tried to explain that she’d already gone shopping, but it was like he didn’t hear her, or wasn’t listening. The Leaky Cauldron is a vastly different experience this time, with people crowding her just to shake her hand, but the man who introduces himself as Professor Quirrell gives her a bad feeling. Maybe it was nothing, or maybe it was a later problem. Either way, there was nothing she could do about it now.

So she goes along with Hagrid, shows her own key to the teller behind his back when he places what must be her old key onto the teller’s station, and takes another trip down to her vault. Hagrid picks up a grubby package, which she purposefully makes a bad showing at pretending she doesn’t see. Finally, she convinces Hagrid that she needs to pick up some ‘ladies things’ alone, and he opted to wait in The Leaky for her. To be fair, she does actually need to do that, and spends a bit more time in various shops before she can’t think of a reason to procrastinate anymore. Watching Hagrid’s face turn various shades of panicked embarrassment while she’s talking loudly, pretending to try to show Hagrid what she got while shopping for ladies things is an added bonus.

It was odd for her, seeing things others couldn’t, knowing things they didn’t when she’d not grown up in the world. The Dursleys had kept a strict ‘Don’t Ask Questions’ policy with her, and so she just didn’t ask about it. She could see magic around a person, especially now that she had been exposed to it more. Some felt complimentary to her, while others did not. It’s how she knows the girl with facts and so much hair needs a friend, how the ginger boy with dirt on his nose needs to feel like he matters, and why she tries to befriend the blond boy who hadn’t known who she was before; though that last one doesn’t go so well. She knew the right sort for herself, wanted him to know that too, but she’d planned to shake his hand. She had! But then the rat bit one of the bigger boys, and it was all down hill from there.

... 

She could hear Hermione spitting out facts about the ceiling, as if it could calm her. It was rather fascinating, but it did little to calm Hera. The floating candles were nice though. Behind her, Ron was talking about having to fight a troll. She hadn’t even known trolls existed! When Hera realized all she would have to do was put on a hat, she relaxed. She shouldn’t have.

~Well, this is unusual~ Hera startled, hearing the voice in her mind. The hat? ~You are not who you appear to be, or rather, you are more than only who you appear to be~

I don’t know what that means. Hera thought back.

~Don’t you? No, no, not awakened yet. I see. Well then, let’s have a look at you. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of wit in that mind of yours, plenty of courage too, and such cunning! There’s talent. Oh, yes, there’d have to be with what I can see here. And a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you!~

Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin

~And why not? You could be great, you know. It’s all here in your head. Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, there’s no doubt about that~

I just want to hide, and I won’t be able to do that in Slytherin, no matter how well I’d fit. Won’t be able to do that anywhere really, not with how people reacted to just hearing my bloody name. Gryffindor is what they’ll expect, because of my parents. So it’s where I can hide best. No one would ever expect a snake to hide in the lions den.

~That you have worked this out shows just how suited to Slytherin house you are, and it is indeed a cunning plan. If you’re sure, better be~ “…Gryffindor!!!”

She didn’t miss the look of relief on the Headmaster’s face, nor the look of contempt on the dark haired man that set next to Quirrell. His magic felt conflicted, like Quirrell’s, but more muted. She rubbed at the scar on her forehead; it had never healed properly, but it had never quite hurt like this. The pain was gone before it had hardly begun, but the dark haired man’s contemptuous glare lingered still. Hera is not one to ask questions, ‘Don’t ask questions!’ is ever prevalent in her mind, and so she doesn’t; but still…as she tentatively picks at the food they just let her have…she wonders.

“There, look.”

“Where?”

“Next to the tall kid with the red hair.”

“Wearing the glasses?”

“Did you see her face?”

“Did you see her scar?”

Whispers followed her in a way they never had before. Tactless, the lot of them, standing outside classrooms, lined up, or doubling back, just to stare at her. Did they not realize how uncomfortable they were making her? Would it have been worse or better in Slytherin? She wished she knew. She’d chosen Gryffindor so she could hide, but this felt far too exposed for her liking.

Barring that, she loved the study of magic. They had to study the night sky on Wednesday at midnight, learn the name of different stars and planets. Three times a week, there was Herbology with Professor Sprout. Hera decided she quite liked herbology, as it felt a little like growing ones food before they made anything with it, much more enjoyable than working in Aunt Petunia’s garden. History of Magic was easily the most boring class, and taught by Professor Binns, a ghost that droned on with all the enthusiasm of an eyesore.

Professor Flitwick was teaching Charms, which she rather liked, but she didn’t understand why he was standing on unsteady book piles if he had magic. Professor McGonagall was strict and clever, teaching Transfiguration, giving them a stern talking to when class started. Transfiguration was another one of those classes that she rather liked a lot, and for some odd reason it came easily to her. Hermione Granger was the only other student in the room to make any progress, but she didn’t reach near the level Hera had. Thankfully, Hermione didn’t glower at her for it, but she did look put out for a bit.

Defense against the Dark Arts was an outright joke. Professor Quirrell stuttered so much that whatever wisdom he imparted couldn’t be understood. The room smelt of garlic, and the turban did as well. It gave Hera the worst headache every time she was in that classroom. The one class she was really looking forward to was Potions, even if it was taught by that man that had stared at her in anger, who she learned was Professor Snape; surely he wouldn’t let that affect his job.

“Ah, yes.” the professor said softly. “Hera Potter. Our new…celebrity.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making.” He began. Like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort; from the way he stood, to the way he moved, even how his robes billowed as he’d entered the room. Git or not, the man had a presence. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death – if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

She was wrong. Potions had been awful. She would still try to learn, but that man hated her! Why though? She hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t been there long enough to even attempt anything. Everyone kept telling her how much like her father she looked, but with her mother’s eyes. Could that somehow be it? Hera just didn’t know. His contempt of her made all the more real by how he’d berated her in that first class, but oh how she hated that she was going to have to pretend to hate him. That speech had her hooked, and even if she could never show him that she was listening, she would learn what she could from him.

...

Severus Snape did not expect anyone to stay after class, especially not Potter.

“I’m going to tell you a secret, Professor.” Potter stated, before leveling him with eyes that hurt to look into. “I’ve not known her for very long, but I hate the Girl-Who-Lived, and I would really appreciate it if everyone would stop rubbing it in my face that my parents are dead because of me. I hardly find it something to celebrate.”

She did not stay any longer, gone before he could muster up any anger at her calling him out for his behaviour; for surely that’s what she’d done. What had she meant by hating the Girl-Who-Lived? She’d not said that she hated the title. Was she meaning herself? That thought about took all the air right out of him. The title told her all she felt she needed to know, that she had survived something her parents had not. Did she hate herself for that? He would not think on this again for years to come, but he’d seen in her eyes far too much of himself at that age; a thought he promptly locked away.

She’d taken Ron with her to meet with Hagrid. As oblivious as the man was, and he had to be half giant or something, he meant well. The groundskeeper was probably the first adult to really ask after her well being, and she enjoyed telling him about her classes. Ron told him how Snape had reacted to her, and she could see how Hagrid wouldn’t look her in the eyes after that. Don’t ask questions, she reminded herself, so instead she turned the conversation to the…rock cakes. Strange that she had no problem eating them, but Ron had to soak his for several minutes, time he used to update Hagrid on how the rest of the Weasley brood was doing. She would tell Ron later about the vault Hagrid had emptied before Gringotts had had the robbery attempt she’d seen in the paper Hagrid had been reading before.

Hermione was not having the best of luck at the moment. No one would be friends with her, despite the sort of camaraderie she had with Neville, and the shy acceptance of Hera. It was strange to her how Hera would shift from shy and withdrawn to confident and enthusiastic, depending on the subject matter. The girl had easily gotten her broom to leap up to her, as if she had a force of will all her own, but Hermione’s broom just rolled over. Neville wasn’t doing much better, and she feared their nerves were making this worse.

“Think of it like a horse, or a dog.” Hera whispered to her, surprising her out of her thoughts. “I can feel a kind of sentience in the wood itself. It will respond to your confidence. You have to believe you can, and then will it into being.”

After that it was easy to call the broom up, for Neville as well. She managed to hover as well with the rest of them, but she didn’t have the confidence that Hera or Malfoy seemed to possess. She’s not even sure why Hera has the confidence she does in this, as she was muggle raised too. Was this a case of fake it till you make it, or trusting ones instincts? In that case, Hermione was definitely a feet on the ground person.

But then Neville kicked off, and he kept flying up and up. Madam Hooch tried to calm the boy down, but it was clear that only made Neville panic more, which inadvertently pushed his broom to new heights. The more he panicked, the more his broom rose, the more Hermione was certain both of her feet belonged on the ground; thank you very much. Feeding on his panic, his broom shot towards their flying instructor, causing both to fall. Hera didn’t hesitate, rising like a shot and then a sharp dive, nimbly catching both Madam Hooch and Neville by their wrists as she herself lay along the length of the broom.

“Slow and steady, Potter.” Madam Hooch coached her through landing the broom. “That was some catch.”

“I don’t know if you know this, Madam Hooch, but I have noodles for arms.” Hera huffed, trying to do as Madam Hooch had asked. Her arms were already shaking.

They were barely on the ground for more than a second before Madam Hooch was inspecting Neville for injuries.

“Broken wrist, I suspect. Mine too. That’s some grip you got for noodle arms there, Potter.” Madam Hooch murmured, as she looked Neville over.

“HERA POTTER!” Professor McGonagall stormed over to them, but paused when she saw that Hera hadn’t moved from her place on the hovering broom. “Miss Potter, what are you doing?”

“Thought I’d have a bit of a lie in, I suppose.” Hera commented almost dreamily. “It’s quite nice, all warm and sunny like this. I highly recommend it.”

“You’ll need to come with me, Miss Potter.” McGonagall explained, in bemusement.

“That would be great. I’d love to do that.” Hera replied. Did anyone else hear how strained her breathing was? “There’s only one problem.”

“Oh?”

Hera looked a bit sheepish at this, as she replied. “I may or may not have lost the use of my arms.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“You’ll need to come with me, Miss Potter.” McGonagall explained, in bemusement.

“That would be great. I’d love to do that.” Hera replied. Did anyone else hear how strained her breathing was? “There’s only one problem.”

“Oh?”

Hera looked a bit sheepish at this, as she replied. “I may or may not have lost the use of my arms.”

Chapter 3

She’d managed to dislocate both her shoulders when she caught both Neville and Madam Hooch the way she did. As this is her first time in the Hospital Wing, it is also her first time meeting Madam Pomfrey. The moment that woman ran her wand over Hera it was like a storm brewed in her eyes. Hera had made the mistake of trying to read the paper that was being worked up from the diagnostic spells that Madam Pomfrey ran, and panicked. There was no way they weren’t going to ask questions now, but she’d tried that route before, and nothing had ever come of it; there was no reason to think this time would be any different.

“She has been abused, Albus! Abused! Starvation leading to long term malnutrition, broken bones, and who knows what kind of emotional trauma she’s suffered!”

She couldn’t hear what Albus’ response was, but it must not have pleased the woman overly much.

“I don’t care that you placed her there for the protection of the Blood Wards! They’re killing her, Albus!”

Well, at least her suspicions had been confirmed then. Gringotts had been unable to tell her who’d set up the Blood Wards, something about the wording of the contract. Now that she knew, there was nothing baring them from speaking with her about it. He had placed her with the Dursleys? Who was he that he could decide that for a kid he didn’t have anything to do with?

“Oh, that man!” Madam Pomfrey scowled, as she bustled over to her bed. “I wish there was something I could do, something that could free you from those horrible people.”

“They’re really not so bad.” Hera shrugged. “Other kids have it worse than me.”

“Don’t try to placate me. Your bones are Swiss cheese.” Pomfrey replied succinctly. “If you will consent to it, I will file my findings in the hopes that one day we can do something about your relatives. I refuse to call them your family. They don’t deserve the privilege. Also, I would like to start you on nutrition potions to help undo the damage they’ve caused to your development.”

“Can you make me a copy of those files?” Hera asked, out of curiosity. “For my own peace of mind. As for potions, I guess. You really think they did that much damage?”

“Swiss. Cheese.” The matron repeated sternly. Hera sighed, but nodded. She didn’t even know why she was surprised when Madam Pomfrey started automatically handing her things to drink, before casting a spell to quickly copy the files. “Handy spell to have. Gemino. Makes a nonmagical copy if its used as a charm, and if it’s used as a curse then it repeatedly replicates something if touched.”

“I can see how something like that would be useful.” Hera admitted, already thinking of the possibilities. “Even nonmagical copies of books would still be informative.”

“See that this gets to who it needs to, Miss Potter.” Madam Pomfrey stated rather pointedly, handing her the copied files. “A potion will be ready for you at every meal time, and will appear before you no matter where you are. I suggest you take them, unless you want to remain the height you are for the rest of your life.”

Hera nodded faintly, already dreading how awful that was going to be. If the smell of them was any indication, they weren’t going to taste good. Before she could talk herself out of it, she gulped down the potion. It tasted as bad as she thought it would, but if it could help her get taller, she’d suffer through. She was glad that she had her school bag with her though, because she kept the vanishing box the goblins had given her in there. They would know what to do with the information.

“Is that her?” She hears, and turns to see Professor McGonagall with a burly fifth-year boy.

“Really, Minerva, this couldn’t wait till she was out of the hospital wing?” Madam Pomfrey admonished. Hera will deny it to the grave, but Professor McGonagall may have blushed a little. Whatever is about to happen, it was worth it just for that.

“You don’t have to sit next to Severus and his smug face as he subtly brags about his House winning the cup for the last seven years.” The professor shot back primly.

“She dislocated both her shoulders with that stunt, and you want to put her on a team for it?” Pomfrey scolded. “Such a dangerous sport for children. She’s only eleven!”

“I don’t know…might be nice.” Hera admitted with a sheepish grin. She didn’t even know what it was for yet. “I’ve never been on a sports team before.”

Pomfrey just sighed, but nodded in understanding. “Should have known you’d catch the fever too. Extra strength it is then.”

When Madam Pomfrey left, Hera looked over to the two of them with an unimpressed arch of an eyebrow.

“Well, I hope whatever it is you want me to do is worth it.” She commented. “Those potions taste like old shoe polish, and I’m gonna be on them for a good long while; Extra strength, thanks to you.”

The burly boy eyed her for a moment, as if appraising her before asking. “Tell me, Potter, have you ever played a game of Quidditch?”

She’d handled the purchase of the broom herself through Gringotts, trusting that they would be able to insure that it arrived in a discrete package. While Hera might not have been in Gryffindor House long, she understood that most of her roommates were gossiping hens, and would not hesitate to spread the news around; no matter that it needed to be secret. Hermione Granger was the only exception to that rule. She also knew that most Gryffindors were not subtle, not even Professor McGonagall, and that whatever discreet packaging that woman sent things in would most definitely not have been discrete in any sense of the word. George and Fred sat with her, explaining they were Beaters for the House team, and looked forward to seeing what she could do.

Wood had been patient with her during their secret practice. He’d gone over the rules, demonstrated moves, which ball was for what. It was dangerous, impractical. She loved it already, and she hadn’t even played yet. This was going to be great.

Hermione was annoyed for several different reasons. Hera had quite clearly broken several rules - never mind that it was to help a friend, and technically speaking Madam Hooch hadn't expressly forbidden anyone from flying while she tried to help Neville - but she hadn't been punished for it. Then there was that ridiculous wizarding duel Malfoy had tried to trap Hera in. She couldn’t believe Ronald had tried to talk her into going for that! At least Hera had had enough sense to leave that one be, though she lost points with Ronald for it.

She also noticed that Hera somehow just knew things. What was worse was the fact that she didn’t seem to really focus on it either. Hera and Hermione often competed for top marks; she’d checked. If Hera really applied herself the way Hermione did, would the girl outclass her? She didn’t know, and that made her feel more insecure than she was already feeling, but Hermione didn’t want to think she was only winning because someone else wasn’t giving their all as well. What was the point in coming in first place if the other person wasn’t even trying? So what if Ronald called her a Nightmare when she’d brought it up after trying to help him in Charms. Stupid boys. Friends? She didn’t need friends…she didn’t…

...

“Ron, you utter prat.” Hera snapped, lightly smacking the back of his head. “Hermione was only trying to help.”

“Bloody know it all is what she is, rubbing it in our faces how much better she thinks she is than us.” Ron grumbled under his breath, only to be smacked in the back of the head again. “Oi!”

“Just because you’re lazy, and won’t do your homework till the last minute, doesn’t mean you should degrade people who actually like being intelligent.” She hissed. “She was trying to help you, because being used for her intelligence is the only reason people have ever been nice to her up until now; which means that after she has some time to calm down, you are going to apologize, and then you are going to start paying attention to your studies!”

Ron had groused for the rest of the day, but when he heard at dinner that Hermione was still in the bathroom crying, he looked distinctly guilty. With Hera glaring at him, he marched up to the Head table, and alerted Professor McGonagall to what they planned to do. She’d heard about his behaviour, and wholeheartedly approved of his plan of action. With that taken care of, Ron and Hera made their way to the bathroom, where Ron apologized for being a prat.

“You’d think I’d learn not to make girls mad at me by insulting them, considering I have a sister.” He said once he’d apologized. “Ginny is scary when she wants to be.”

A low trembling vibration went through the stones of the castle, making Hera frown, but the others didn’t seem to notice it.

“Hey, you guys? I’m going to go outside for a minute.” Hera stated, a bit distractedly as she was already making her way towards the door. “You all stay here. Okay?”

Whether they answered her or not, she had no idea. For some odd reason, she recognized the tremors she’d felt, and didn’t want them to get hurt. If she was right, and she can’t understand how she would be, what she’ll find is a fully grown mountain troll. The sight before her has her casting a quick locking charm behind her back at the door, just in case her friends decide to run out to investigate, because holy hell it’s a fully grown mountain troll. The two sort of…stare…at each other in silence for a moment before the troll makes to charge, and Hera does the only thing she can think to do; she screams.

...

When she wakes up, it’s only because the door behind her is being relentlessly beaten on from the other side. She barely has enough energy to move, but somehow manages to push herself to the side and away from the door. Hermione is immediately fussing over her, while Ron is distracted by the various frozen chunks of troll meat that decorate the hallway now. Hera tries to tell them that they have to get out of here, but she’s not even sure she has the energy to do more than blink, and her throat is oddly cold and sore. They each take an arm over their shoulders and begin trying to make their way, while Hera pushes her feet in an effort to help them along. They are, of course, caught by the teachers and scolded for their recklessness, but Hera passes out again before she can hear the whole thing, waking up in the hospital wing three days later after suffering from magical exhaustion.

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever had.” Hera groans, voice muffled because her face was planted against the table. “What was I thinking, agreeing to this? I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Quivvitch i’ coo?” Ron offers, around a mouthful of potatoes. Hermione smacks the back of his head.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” the girl scolded, before focusing on Hera. “You’ve got to eat something, Hera. Perhaps a bit of toast? I know it helps me when I’m feeling anxious.”

Hera worried on a bit of toast, but didn’t put anything on it, so she was surprised when Hermione shoved some candied ginger in front of her.

“Trust me. Energy boost plus calming stomach without taxing it overly much. You’ll thank me later.” Hermione insisted, gently nudging the dish towards her some more. Hera started nibbling on that along with the toast. “It’s actually kind of nice seeing you lose it like this. I mean, until now, I kind of thought you were this completely unflappable super being that could take on anything. It’s kind of nice knowing that you worry like the rest of us.”

Hera couldn’t help but grin at that. It was perhaps the most comforting thing anyone had ever said to her.

Once in the locker room, the team changed into their scarlet Quidditch uniforms. The Slytherin team would be playing in green, of course. Angelina helped her secure the various straps, and in turn Hera helped her where she could. She had a flashback moment to one of her dreams; two young men who felt like brothers, though they didn’t look anything alike, helping each other in much the same way with their armour before a battle. This felt like that somehow. Angelina gave her a small smile as if knowing where her mind had gone, one that Hera returned.

“Okay, men,” Wood began. It really felt like this was the pre-battle speech, and he their General.

“And women.” Angelina added.

“And women,” Wood agreed with a nod. “This is it.”

“The big one.” Fred added.

“The one we’ve all been waiting for.” George’s contribution.

“We know Oliver’s speech by heart.” Fred admitted to Hera. “We were on the team last year.”

“Shut it, you two.” Wood growled. “This is the best team Gryffindor’s had in years! We’re going to win, I just know it.”

He glared at everyone as if to say ‘or else’.

Fred Weasley hadn’t really spent a lot of time around the little first year that had become their new Seeker. He knew she was friends with his little brother Ron, but that was about it. He was surprised to learn that she was the Hera Potter. He like so many others had grown up hearing stories of what she’d done, but meeting her had removed any misconceptions about who he’d thought she’d be. She was so quiet, and such a tiny thing, obviously abused, wickedly mischievous glint in her eyes despite everything. There was a prankster in that girl just waiting to be born, he could tell.

He’d heard the rumours of how she handled the troll at Halloween, but wasn’t certain if it was believable, at least not until he’d visited her in the Hospital Wing with Ron. The youngest of the Weasley sons had whispered quietly about apologizing to Granger, how Hera had stepped out for a moment, and the scream that followed. Neither Hermione nor Ron had been able to budge the door till she’d moved, but how had she held it with being as tiny as she was? And the scene they walked in on? What kind of accidental magic could freeze a fully grown mountain troll until it burst into pieces?

Madam Pomfrey had said she’d nearly had her throat frozen in just the same manner, so Fred can only assume the accidental magic happened not just when but from her scream. After that, he watched out for her in the background; George too. She’d protected their little brother, so that made her family. He’d heard Hermione complain about her before the troll incident, but it was more frustration about how she could do things with almost no effort. Fred hadn’t believed that either, not really, not till he saw her summon her broom without a word.

Willful nonverbal magic wasn’t something a first-year was supposed to know, let alone be able to do, but it didn’t look like she realized she’d even done it. By Merlin, could she fly! During the match, he kept an eye on her, so he was the first to notice something wrong with her broom. He and George immediately began circling below her in case she fell, which was likely considering she was only hanging on with one hand at this point, because her broom kept bucking any time they got close enough. Both knew what that meant, someone was jinxing her broom.

When that was finally over, and she was able to get back onto her broom, it was like a fire had lit under her. She’d seen the snitch, he’s almost sure of it, especially with that dive she took. Not even Charlie had been this crazy on a broom. She was magnificent! The best part was the hilarity involved when Flint had to accept that she’d caught the snitch with her mouth.

“Did you mean to do that?” Fred asked her quietly when they were all heading back to the locker rooms.

“That depends. If I said yes, would you believe me?” She countered with a mischievous grin.

“I’m onto you, you know.” He stated conspiratorially. Her innocent grin fooled no one, least of all him.

Hera hadn’t expected to get any Christmas gifts, though this was the first year she could buy them for others, so she was understandably wary upon seeing packages for her. The sweets had been nice, and the sweater was the softest thing she’d ever worn, but the Invisibility Cloak belonged to her father; and there, in the safety of her bed, she cried for what could have been. The fifty pence was even more unexpected than anything else, and even though the thought hadn’t been much, she thought that she should do something for them in return. Professor McGonagall had kindly helped her to find something cheap but meaningful, with a note that everything was bought in regular upstanding stores that the Dursleys themselves liked to shop in, and sent it via muggle post; a small bottle of lotion for Aunt Petunia, a punching bag for Dudley, and a pair of trimmers for Uncle Vernon. Most of the rest of the break was spent exploring the castle with Ron, but without the cloak; That she wanted to keep secret for a while.

When she could sneak away from Ron, Hera would read in the restricted section under the cloak. She had always been able to see in low light, and the cold was something she’d grown used to without warm furnishings in the winter at the Dursleys. Hera copies the books using the spell Madam Pomfrey showed her, storing the copies in a compartment of her trunk. She’d only discovered the Mirror of Erised by accident. What it showed her was the most beautiful lie she’d ever seen; A golden palace filled with warmth and happiness, and the warm hugs of a mother figure who loved her. Angered by what she saw, she somehow conjured a rock into her hand, and she smashed that stupid mirror.

She looked at the broken pieces left behind, and wondered if magical mirrors felt pain. Maybe then it would know what her life felt like. There was an odd lumpy red rock in the ruins of the mirror, which reminded her of the grubby package Hagrid had had to get before she’d convinced him to wait at the Leaky for her, and she knew exactly what to do with it. Wrapping up the grubby little thing, she securely knotted it, and made for her room. One hastily written note, and suddenly Hedwig was at her window waiting for her.

The note?

Maybe don’t let other people rummage through your unmentionables, Flamel .

She finds solace in her books, and doesn’t say a word about it when Hermione comes back from break.

AN: I know the plot bunnies just threw that in there, and I can't figure out why, but I swear I'll make them tell me why they wanted her to know who that was without any context clues to go by

Chapter Text

Last time...

The note?

Maybe don’t let other people rummage through your unmentionables, Flamel .

She finds solace in her books, and doesn’t say a word about it when Hermione comes back from break.

Chapter 4

When Ron saw that Hera was reading Hogwarts: A History at breakfast in the Great Hall, he suspected that Hermione had finally gotten to her with her intense love of books. He wasn’t stupid. Hera had been seen with more than her fair share of books, but they were usually much thinner than the ones Hermione liked to read. He just doesn’t understand what would interest her in such a book, and put it out of his mind as one of those weird quirks girls tended to have, and got back to his food. Later, he would look back on this moment, and think that maybe he should have paid better attention to what she was doing.

The next morning greeted everyone with a rather different view of the Great Hall for breakfast, as the banners and usual House decorations had been altered sometime during the night. Slytherin’s House colours had been changed from a cool green and silver to a warm green and gold. Ravenclaw kept their blue, but there were red and white accents now. Hufflepuff’s colours had changed to black and red with yellow accents. Gryffindor’s colours didn’t technically change, however their scarlet red and gold were now had quite the metallic sheen.

Whatever spell was on it was enough to change the accents of even the Hogwarts uniforms, and some of the teacher’s clothing as soon as they walked into the Great Hall. Flitwick looked downright patriotic, beaming proudly at the handiwork. McGonagall looked like she didn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed, but she was wearing now metallic looking scarlet red robes that shimmered with gold in the right light. Sprout’s wardrobe had completely changed from the earthy colours she usually wore, and now sported black and red robes with yellow trim, which somehow made her look a lot more intimidating and mightily formidable; her gleeful smile and the light in her eyes did nothing to dampen that affect. Snape’s robes turned to a more black forest green with gold buttons, and though he scowled on principle, Hera could see that he carefully inspected the work with something akin to pride.

“My compliments to whoever performed this ingenious bit of magic, though I confess myself feeling a little left out on the wardrobe change.” Dumbledore announced, and then looked down at his own robes which at that moment became a combination of everything. He grinned. “Ah, I see I was mistaken! Carry on!”

...

Later on in the staff room…

“I’m half tempted to keep things this way.” Albus mused, admiring the handiwork on his robes as he entered the room.

“Albus, you can't possibly be serious.” Minerva objected, stalking after him.

“Your smile betrays you, Minnie.” He teased, not even looking up.

“What I want to know is who did it?” Pomona wondered, following them in.

“Marvelous bit of charm work, I must say. Nothing complicated, but strong.” Filius noted, also admiring his robes.

“Five galleons says it was Potter.” Severus proposed when he entered, closing the door behind him.

Minerva huffed. “Severus, you can not simply blame Miss Potter for everything.”

“She was the only one that didn’t look truly surprised, and I would know that smirk anywhere.” He pointed out logically. “It’s only a simple colour changing charm. Any First Year could do it. It’s just that no one’s ever dared.”

“My money is on the Weasley twins.” Pomona decided. “Those two have been giving Minnie trouble for ages.”

“There’s a few in my house I would suspect.” Flitwick countered. “Are we really betting?”

“How else would we survive the year?” Severus asked with a sardonic drawl, before they all descended into chuckles.

“What would the students say if they could see us now?” Minerva wondered in amusement. “Especially you, Severus.”

“Easy.” He replied, his own mischievous grin spreading across his face. “None of them would ever believe you.”

... 

Eventually they did find the focal point for the spell, an anchor that powered the spell without draining someone’s magic, as it was amplified by the ambient magic in the air. It was hidden underneath the Head Table, where no one would think to look. Once it was deactivated, everything went back to normal…until a week later when it started back up again. This time the device was hidden on the back of the Headmaster’s chair. Each time it was found and deactivated, another one took its place within the week, each time in a more and more unlikely place. It was only when Filius suggested the possibility of a localized Gemino charm on a time delay that they found the main one hidden in the most unlikely of places; the underside of Severus’ chair at the Head Table.

“Potter, I will need you to stay after class.” Severus ordered.

She grimaced, but nodded without a word, waiting by his desk as the others left. Weasley and Granger would be waiting just outside, he knew. The Slytherin first-years all snickered as they passed by. He really hoped this new batch learned subtlety at some point, because this amount of the sheer lack of it was insulting to the House. While he loved his godson, he was also aware that Draco was one of the worst of the bunch; no subtlety, that boy.

When everyone was gone, he noted what he could. She stood in front of the desk, clearly uncomfortable with whatever situation she thought she was in. Carefully, Severus placed the apparatus they’d found that had controlled the whole House colour scheme onto the desk. Whatever subtlety she’d managed was gone the second she saw it. Instantly, she’d tensed before breaking out into a small shy smile, though that was little better than the grimace she’d had before.

“If I’d had any lingering doubts as to who made this, I don’t anymore.” Severus stated coolly. “I’m surprised you were able to keep it secret this long.”

“Helps when you don’t tell anyone what you’re planning, or brag about it after.” Potter admitted, quietly.

“This is not the first prank I have noticed in regards to you.” He added. She stiffened as if she hadn’t expected him to notice, and to be fair no one else had noticed but him. “Every so called prank has been harmless, even uplifting to the parties involved, but should that change…Your father was much the same, him and his friends, great lovers of what they referred to as pranks, used any excuse to cause mischief, humiliate anyone for a laugh.”

She clinched her fists at her sides, but didn’t lash out. A surprise. He would have expected her to defend the man, though she had not known him.

“You’re the only one I know of that won’t give me platitudes about what a great man he was.” She remarked quietly, instead of the angry defense he’d expected.

“You will hear no such platitudes from me.” Severus stated acerbically. “Many of his pranks harmed others, or humiliated them. We’re lucky no one died.”

Testing the limits of the Vow, I see – His thoughts remind him.

“I don’t…I don’t want to humiliate anyone. I don’t like bullies.” She insisted, seeming to shrink in on herself, and hesitated. “Can I…Can I have that back, Professor?”

“I suppose.” Severus agreed with reluctance and distaste. He was not about to appear nice. “You did no harm with it, and Professor Flitwick will demand to speak with you about it at some later point in time. When he does, tell him I said to pay up. Now get out of my sight. You don’t want to have points docked because you were late for class.”

The girl reached out with a shaky hand, took back the small apparatus, and made to leave. She was almost to the door when she hesitated again, and turned back to him.

“I know that he died trying to protect me, that mum gave her life to save mine, but I also know that bad people can do good things, and that good people can do bad things.” She stated, not quite looking him in the eye. “People are rarely all good or bad. Thank you, Professor, for telling me that my father was more than only the hero people paint him to be.”

And with that she quickly left the room, and Severus was left in confusion once again. Wasn’t she supposed to hate him? He’d literally just insulted her father to her. He’d not been pleasant or nice on purpose, could not be seen as showing favor or kindness, and yet she did not glare at him with hatred in her eyes. The rest of the day was not enough to rid him of his confusion, though he was surprised when Filius actually handed him the galleons. Considering the half goblin was laughing while he did so, Severus would call it a win.

While her two friends were still obsessed with finding out who Flamel was, and what was in the third corridor, Hera didn’t have the heart to tell them she’d already taken care of it. The name had been said in passing anyway, and they had no way of knowing if he had any connection to the situation with the third corridor, so she didn't know why they were so obsessed in the first place. Besides, Fluffy was the biggest cuddle monger. She’s more interested in why she keeps finding Hagrid in the library, as he had never seemed the most studious of sorts before now. She’s kept a steady stream of visits, finding herself oddly at ease in his presence, so she can tell when he’s lying. It does help that his tells are terribly obvious. She could fleece him in poker or something, she knows it; she’s done it already, not that they ever played for money.

When she visits him next, Hermione and Ron come with her, the first thing that they notice is that the window shades are closed. The second thing they notice is how bloody hot it gets when Hagrid opens the door to let them in. There is a raging inferno inside his fireplace. Hera feels like she’s gonna die just standing there, suddenly feeling dizzy and faint, though it doesn't seem to affect Ron or Hermione in quite the same way. Hagrid makes them some tea, which everyone accepts, and some stout sandwiches, which only Hera accepts.

“Hagrid, how did you get a dragon egg?” Hera asked, as she stared into the fire where the egg rested, interrupting Hermione’s rather brilliant manipulative attempt to interrogate Hagrid. She wasn’t much for conversation this time, what with how faint she was feeling due to the heat. “What kind is it?”

“A Norwegian Ridge-back. They’re rare, them.” Hagrid beamed proudly. “Won him in a card game.”

“Hagrid, I regularly trounce you at cards. There’s no way you won this without them getting something in return.” Hera pointed out, not unkindly. “What did they want?”

"Nuth'n." Hagrid huffed, before going over to stoke the fire. “I just talked about my Groundskeeper duties, taking care of in’erestin creatures, know’n how ter handle ‘em, that kind o’ thing.”

Hera sighed, knowing that it was no use trying to head this off at the pass, when she hears Hermione’s quiet objection. “Hagrid, you live in a wooden hut.”

Her little rules lawyer was growing up, Hera cooed in her mind, Hermione hadn’t even mentioned that owning a dragon was illegal.

“Hermione, know that when I say this, it’s with all the love in the world, but you’re insane.” Hera declared, sliding the timetable away from herself. “There aren’t enough hours in the day.”

“It’s not that bad.” Hermione insisted, sliding the timetable back across the table to her.

Ron picks it up instead, and pales significantly. “You’ve only got three minutes to use the loo!”

“Don’t forget, meal times are cut in half.” Hera reminded him, pointing to a specific spot on the timetable. “Unless we study while we’re eating.”

“Is that what that means?” Ron asked, lowering his voice. She nodded, and Ron started looking like he’d never know happiness again.

“I was hoping it would get Ron to stop spraying food everywhere if he had to take care of his school books while he ate.” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms, glaring at him. “I have asked you to chew with your mouth closed, because I don’t like getting sprayed with food bits, and I doubt anyone else does either.”

The extra homework was really getting to them all, hence the study schedules Hermione was trying to push on them. Ron knew his table manners were bad, but this was the first time he’d been able to spend away from his mother, and was using it for this tiny act of rebellion; right along with neglecting his homework. Hera could understand, as she was doing the same thing by not hiding that she’s actually smart. It took a lot of work to pretend to be as intellectually challenged as Dudley. The difference was that Ronald wasn’t dumb, he was just lazy.

“My table manners are none of your business!” Ron snapped in embarrassment, his face becoming nearly as red as his hair.

“They are when the food that doesn’t land in your mouth lands in my hair.” Hermione drawled, deadpan.

“Study habits!” Hera called out, cutting through their bickering with a clap of her hands, and ended up drawing the attention of others in the library. When everyone looked away again, she calmly continued. “Hermione, while I agree that studying is important, not everyone learns the same way you do. My brain needs breaks and distractions, and Ron’s needs food to motivate him.”

“Oi!” Ron objected, but it was without any vehemence.

“He’ll be the tallest Weasley, I swear. He’s already so high up.” Hera teased. Hermione snickered at her antics. “That’s where all the food goes.”

“Alright, I’ll lay off, even though I was only trying to do it for your own good. I’m not your mum.” Hermione sighed, though Hera did not openly relax. She wasn’t that foolish.

“Ron, since Hermione has made this concession, you should make one too.” Hera suggested, then snapped her fingers in an aha moment. “I know! Since she won’t be nagging you about studying anymore, you can agree not to beg for copies of her homework if you fall behind in your studies. Makes everything all nice and fair. Wouldn’t want her to think we’re only after her friendship for her brains.”

The look of surprise on Hermione’s face, as well as the sheer dread on Ron’s, was totally worth it.

It’s hatching

The three took a look at the note, then each other, a bracing sigh on each of their lips. They’d been trying for weeks to get that man to realize that raising a dragon was not only a bad idea, it was highly unrealistic. Hagrid lived in a wooden hut. Eventually, someone would notice the dragon, probably when it burned his hut to the ground with him in it. Still, the chance to watch the hatching of a baby dragon was too good to pass up, and so after Herbology class the three Gryffindors went down to Hagrid’s hut.

“Come in! Come in! It’s nearly out!” Hagrid beamed proudly, and they bustled into the hut to gather around the table he’d set the egg on.

There were deep cracks in it, and some kind of clicking noise was coming from within. Despite the insistence that this was a bad idea, all waited with baited breath for what was about to happen. All at once, there was a great crack, and then the dragon flopped out onto the table in an unceremonious heap. Black scales covered its scrawny body, a small thing in comparison to how large its spiky wings were. Hera likened it to a crumpled umbrella, if said umbrella were to have great glowing orange eyes.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Hagrid murmured, reaching out to pet it. The baby dragon snapped at his fingers and hissed. “Bless him! He knows his mummy!”

“You’d think he’d be a little nicer to his mummy.” Hera muttered under her breath, and the dragon snapped its attention to her.

~A Speaker!~

“Uh…Yes?” Hera hesitated, uncertain of why the rest of the room suddenly froze.

~Tell this large man that I will not be nice! He stole me from my nest!~

“He did not. He rescued you from the one who stole you from your nest, but he does not know how to return you to it. He does not know where it is.” Hera pointed out. “He has been taking care of you.”

~He’s been trying to be my mummy?~

“He means well.” Hera shrugged; and with that the dragon scrambled over to Hagrid, and crawl up into his arms, nestling into his beard. The man looked ready to cry out of sheer happiness, even if he was occasionally giving Hera wary glances.

~Tell him he’s warm, and kind, and that my name is Norbert~

“He says you’re warm, and kind, and his name is Norbert.” Hera stated, looking to Hagrid, only to get a bit of sparks blown at her. “Her. Her name is Norbert.”

“You can speak to dragons?” Ron asked cluelessly.

“I guess? I wouldn’t know. This is kind of the first and only dragon I’ve ever seen, Ron.” Hera felt the need to point out.

“Wicked!” He exclaimed. "Charlie would be so jealous!"

“This was fun, Hagrid, but we should go. We don’t have long till next class.” Hermione stated, businesslike now. “Take care, Norbert!”

and out the door she pushed them.

“That dragon is going to grow the size of his hut in at least three weeks, if not sooner.” Hermione said, once she had them out. “What are we going to do?”

“We could send a letter to Charlie. He works at that reserve in Romania, present it as an option to Hagrid after class.” Ron suggested.

It was the only thing they could think of.

Chapter Text

Last time...

“That dragon is going to grow the size of his hut in at least three weeks, if not sooner.” Hermione said, once she had them out. “What are we going to do?”

“We could send a letter to Charlie. He works at that reserve in Romania, present it as an option to Hagrid after class.” Ron suggested.

It was the only thing they could think of.

Chapter 5

“You want us to what?” George asked, not believing what he was hearing. Surely the fumes from their latest experiment were getting to him.

“I want one of you two to help me smuggle out a baby dragon.” Hera insisted, sitting on Fred’s bed. Fred himself was working over the cauldron filled with their latest brew of…something. “Was I not clear before?”

“Oh, I understood you the first time. I’m just…” George ran a hand through his hair. “How did you even get a baby dragon?”

“Hagrid.”

“I can’t.” Fred grimaced. “I have to stay here to watch this. One wrong move, and…”

“Guess that leaves me then.” George acquiesced. “Why not Ron?”

“He went to Hagrid’s without me a few days ago to deliver the letter from Charlie, and Norbert bit him.” Hera sighed. “Hermione is pretty wary of Norbert because of that, and admitted that her nervousness would cause more problems. Animals are tetchy about that sort of thing.”

“Makes sense. We’d have to be up on Astronomy tower by midnight, you said?” George asked, just to be sure. Hera nodded. “Alright, I’ll meet you in front of Hagrid’s hut.”

...

He made it to Hagrid’s hut a little on the early side of Midnight, and didn’t see anyone. There was the swishing sound of fabric, and suddenly Hera was standing there with a shimmering cloak in hand. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. An invisibility cloak? How much mischief has she been getting away with using that? She just gave a sheepish grin, placing a finger on her mouth as if to signal a secret to be kept, before turning and knocking on the door.

“Hagrid? Hagrid, it’s me.”

The door opened a crack, and then more when Hagrid saw it was truly safe.

“She’s got lot’s o’ rats an’ some brandy fer the journey.” Hagrid relayed in a muffled voice. “An’ I’ve packed her teddy bear in case she gets lonely.”

“She appreciates it.” Hera consoled him, patting his arm in an effort to comfort the man. George just blinked in confusion, but said nothing.

“Bye-bye, Norbert.” Hagrid sobbed as George and Hera placed the invisibility cloak over the crate and got under it themselves. “Mummy will miss you!”

How they managed to get the crate up to the castle, he didn’t know. He exercised regularly because of quidditch practice, and was by no means a lightweight, but he could feel his arms shaking with the weight of carrying the crate as they were, and he felt like his lungs were on fire. Hera didn’t even look winded, though she too was shaking. It wasn’t right, not with those noodle arms. One more staircase, and then another, and another; Midnight was approaching quickly.

“How are you…handling this so well?” George asked, gasping for air as they waited, finally up to the Astronomy Tower.
“I live with the Dursleys.” She shrugged, as if that were answer enough. “You get used to doing a lot of things you shouldn’t be able to do when no one will lift a finger to help you, like moving heavy furniture by yourself without magic.”

He didn’t really have time to process that, because the dragon started hissing, and Hera responded.

“Better not let Charlie hear you do that. He might try to offer you a job, or his hand in marriage.” George quipped.

“Who am I offering to marry?” Charlie asked from above them, as he and three other comrades descended onto the tower. “Where are you anyway?”

Hera whips off the invisibility cloak, surprising the party, and declares. “I can talk to dragons.”

To Charlie’s credit, his slack jaw only lasted a second. “You wanna drop outta school, and become a dragon wrangler, Kid?”

Hera’s beaming face was worth money. “Nah, I figure I’d better finish my education. I kind of want to leave my relatives’ place as soon as is legally possible.”

The party goes over the rigging with them, and Hera hisses towards the dragon. When the dragon responds, Charlie starts offering more and more amounts of money to get her to quit school to wrangle dragons, to the point where it was getting more than a little ridiculous; his traveling companions looking at him like he was insane. It’s a good thing she has no concept of money. If she really knew what those figures meant, the girl might have been tempted to consider it. George isn’t even sure Charlie can legally offer that kind of money, not with the looks his companions were giving him, never mind the whole trying to convince a minor to drop out of school thing. Charlie promises to keep in touch, probably with more money offers, and the party leaves with Norbert.

“Quick, under the cloak!” She hissed, throwing it over him before he could object. Before he could shrug it off or pull her in under it, he hears steps coming up to meet them. There’s nowhere for her to hide in time, and there’s no time for him to pull her under the cloak before either of them would be seen.

“Well, well, well,” Filch whispers, looming over her now. “we are in trouble.”

...

“It was bound to happen sometime.” Hera admitted with a sigh. “Let’s get this over with then.”

“You’re not trying to get out of it, are you?” Filch demanded, eyeing her with suspicion.

“If I’d wanted to do that properly, I shouldn’t have gotten caught in the first place.” Hera pointed out. “I’m just trying to accept that I did a thing I should not have, and have to take the punishment for it. School rules.”

“Well, you’re in luck, you’ve got company.” Filch stated. “Let’s move along now.”

He lead her all the way to Professor McGonagall’s study on the first floor. Hermione and Neville both looked subdued. While Hera had a pretty good idea why they were out after curfew, she didn’t want to risk asking in case anyone were to hear. All she could see in her mind was visions of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia yelling at her for what a freak she was, and how they had put up with her long enough, kicking her out of the house and everything. She had quite the nightmare scenario going in her head before Professor McGonagall even walked into the room.

“I don’t know what you three were thinking.” The woman stated sternly. “The youngest Mr. Weasley has been bitten by something, and is spouting delusional ramblings about dragons, and you thought it would be a good idea to go look for them?”

Hera’s head snapped up so fast, she thought she heard it crack. There was no way they were going to get away with this.

“You’re not the only ones.” Professor McGonagall sighed in disappointment. “Mr. Malfoy fell for it too. That doesn’t get you out of the detentions you’re going to get, or the points that will be taken.”

“So we’re not…We’re not going to be expelled?” Hera asked, her voice so small it was a wonder McGonagall heard it at all. Hermione hesitantly looked up as well, having also feared this.

“No, you will not be expelled.” Professor McGonagall replied, thin lipped. Hera had no idea what that look meant. “Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor.”

“Fifty?” Neville gasped.

“Each.” Professor McGonagall clarified. “Your detention will be determined at a later date.”

A hundred and fifty points. That put them in dead last. In one night, they’d ruined any chance they had at winning the House cup. No one spoke as they were escorted back to the tower, though she’d tried to give Neville a bracing clasp on the shoulder in camaraderie. He’d only been trying to help them, after all.

“Is Norbert…?” Hermione whispered once they were in their dorm room, trying to contain her tears.

“Safe and on her way to Romania.” Hera confirmed, and then with a smile she did not feel. “Charlie tried to get me to quit school by offering me a job. If I had been old enough, he might have proposed marriage. Can you believe it?”

Hermione snorted with laughter, but it quickly turned into sobs.

“Take heart, Hermione Granger. All will be well in time. We know what it is to be shunned. This will be no different.” Hera tried to comfort her, but Hermione shook her head.

“This will be worse.”

“Then it will be worse.” Hera shrugged. Grabbing Hermione’s shoulders, she tried to bolster the girl. “We will suffer. They will hate us, but we can not let them win. We make our stand here. Take heart, and never let them see that they get to you.”*

...

In the morning, the Gryffindors look confused, thinking there might have been a mistake. They were in dead last, which simply wasn’t possible. Then the story starts to spread: Hera Potter had lost them those points, along with a couple other first years. Hera had known it would be hard, but she’d never been well liked at her last school. The Dursleys had seen to that. It had been wonderful and strange to be so well liked here, but of course it had ended, not that they knew why she had lost those points.

George had tried to tell people, but no one would listen. Ron felt bad, having been the reason the others had gone after her, delirious rantings or no. Fred and George stood by her during Quidditch practices, but they were the only ones. If the rest of the team had to talk about her, they called her “the Seeker”, which at any other point in time would have sounded like an awesome nickname or title. Wood refused to let her resign, but that was of little hope to her.

Neville hadn’t fared too badly, because he wasn’t as well known, but Hermione’s reaction bothered her. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down, working in silence. The study sessions helped, but Hera could see that the girl’s heart wasn’t really in it. Rooming with Lavender and Parvati hadn’t helped any, as they were known for being particularly vindictive and cruel when crossed. Seeing as how Hermione was sinking faster than the rest of them, Hera decided to do something about it.

So she took her aside one evening, and showed her the cloak. Once Hermione got over the shock of that, Hera told her about the late night reading sessions in the restricted section, and then the Gemino charm she’d used to make non-magical copies of everything in an effort to start her own library. In turn, Hermione tells her about an idea she’d had about creating a bag with undetectable weightless and extension charms. Once they put their heads together, working out the formula takes almost no time at all, and Hera has Flitwick double check the results before sending it in to the goblins at Gringotts. The investment offers are enough to send Hermione over the moon, and after carefully reading the contract (adding Hera as a 20% founder, which still felt like too much to Hera, even after she managed to talk Hermione down from half), Hermione signs off on it; That they take the first two prototypes and raid the library at night under the cloak might also have something to do with Hermione’s sudden uplifted mood.

When the time for their detention came, they said good night to Ron in the common room, and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Malfoy was already waiting with Mr. Filch. They had forgotten Malfoy also had the same detention with them. He looked just as forlorn as they did. No one said a word as Mr. Filch lead them across the grounds in the dead of night.

Hera did not need the help to see, but it would have been nice for there not to be so many clouds obscuring the moon. Filch spent most of the time trying to creep them out with old stories of punishments, which seemed to work quite well. The man really was in his element. Neville clutched the sleeve of Hera’s robes, Hermione doing the same on the other side. Detentions weren’t supposed to be dangerous. Surely it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Ah, good, yer here.” Hagrid called, seeing them make their way. “Filch, good ter see ya. Thanks for bring’n em.”

Filch just sneers and walks away, lamp lighting his way back to Hogwarts.

“Right then,” Hagrid said, “now, listen carefully, ‘cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight, an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.”

Hera realized as she looked at the silvery blood at the edge of the forest, that Hagrid didn’t seem to have a proper idea as to what constituted detentions or dangerous. Something that could kill a unicorn should worry a person, and should not be something seen fit for a detention for children, and he wanted to split them into groups! He contradicted himself, saying it was dangerous, and then saying nothing would hurt them. It could not be both, something even Malfoy grasped as he tried to point out what a bad idea this was in his usual snobbish air.

“Hagrid, why not let Neville go with you, while Hermione, Draco and I go with Fang?” Hera suggested, after Hagrid made the initial groups. “Fang’s a bit of a coward, I know, but he’ll let the inhabitants of the forest know we’re with you. Neville is observant when there aren’t a lot of distractions, and is excellent in herbology. He’d be better able to help you if you find the wounded unicorn before we do.”

“Alright. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up red sparks, right?” Hagrid agreed. He allowed them to practice a bit with the sparks before they went in, Hera’s group going right, and his left.

“So, how terrible is this plan?” Malfoy drawled. “If something is killing unicorns, it can kill us, never mind that oaf’s assurances.”

“Don’t talk like that about Hagrid.” Hermione hissed.

“Regardless of his deplorable attitude, Malfoy’s not wrong, Hermione.” Hera countered. Hermione glared at her, while Draco looked surprised at the statement. “I know the man means well, but think about it. Hagrid said nothing would harm us, but he also said something was killing unicorns. Those two statements can’t work together. You’ve read about this in Hogwarts: A history. The forest inhabitants follow their own rules, but even so…Unicorns are protected. Anything willing to disregard the rules of the forest, to kill a unicorn, would kill us if given the chance; Hagrid’s protections be damned.”

“I’m seriously debating whether I should come back here next year. There are other schools I could have gone to.” Hermione grumbled. “I know. I checked.”

“If you leave, you’d better tell me where you’re going, so I can apply too.” Hera insisted as they made their way. “I hear Durmstrang has ice skating. I think I’d like to try that.”

“Beauxbatons has culinary arts.” Hermione adds.

“Learning to cook with magic? The Dursleys would die if I told them their food was cooked by magic.” Hera hummed. “I’d do it just for that.”

“You two are weird.” Malfoy declares, not sure what else to make of them.

They didn’t talk much after that, having spotted the silvery blood of a unicorn and began following it. There was a heaviness in the air that was nearly oppressive, and the further in they went, the darker it got. Silvery blood coated roots and leaves, obvious signs of the creature’s pain. Eventually they came upon the unicorn, though it was already dead. It was the most beautiful, and yet tragically sad thing Hera had ever seen. Hermione was about to send the red sparks, but a bush beyond the dead unicorn began to move. A cloaked figure crawled over to it like some stalking beast, its face slowly lowering as if to drink.

“Bombarda!” Hera shouted; wand in her hand, word out of her mouth before she can even think about what a bad idea this was. The explosion causing the cloaked figure to abandon the unicorn’s body, instead charging straight at Hera.

“AAAAHHHHHH!!!!” Draco screamed, and bolted…as did Fang.

Blue bell flames shot forth from Hermione’s wand, making the cloaked figure leap back again. It was just as well, because Hera dropped like a stone as she clutched at her forehead. Blood gushed from the scar, and she could hear hooves…galloping, and something jumped over them, charging at the figure. When the pain passed, she looked to find the figure gone, and Hermione was helping her to stand. A centaur stood nearby; white-blond hair, and a palomino body.

“Are you alright?” The centaur asked, in concern.

“Well enuff.” Hera slurred, trying to blink away the copies of him she could see as she leaned onto Hermione for support. “Wha’z’at thing?”

Instead of answering, the centaur stared at her with startlingly blue eyes.

“You are the Potter girl, and yet you are…more.” He observed. “You had best get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe, especially not for you. Can either of you ride? It will be quicker this way.”

“Take Hera. She’s unsteady on her feet.” Hermione insisted. “I can run with you.”

“I will keep the pace within reason.” He nodded in agreement, as he lowered himself so that she could help Hera onto his back. “My name is Firenze.”

“Hermione.”

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping, as other centaurs came rushing in.

“Firenze! What are you doing?” One demanded. “You have a human on your back! Have you no shame?”

“In’case you hav’n nnnoticed,” Hera slurred, her voice taking on a sardonic drawl that sounded damned similar to Snape’s own, barely conscious now. “this human is injured, an bleeding out ov’her face. So if you could get tha’stick out of your arse, that’d be great.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping, as other centaurs came rushing in.

“Firenze! What are you doing?” One demanded. “You have a human on your back! Have you no shame?”

“In’case you hav’n nnnoticed,” Hera slurred, her voice taking on a sardonic drawl that sounded damned similar to Snape’s own, barely conscious now. “this human is injured, an bleeding out ov’her face. So if you could get tha’stick out of your arse, that’d be great.”

Chapter 6

“Hera Potter.” the other centaur stated, in a gloomy voice. “Mars is unusually bright tonight.”

“It does’zat when a war’s on the horiz’n.” Hera grumbled, getting a bit snippy as she was trying to hang on to consciousness.

Both centaurs looked at her in surprise, having not expected her to know that.

“You are more than you appear to be.” The first realized, before looking to Firenze. “Get them out of here. Foals of Hogwarts are forbidden from being in this forest.”

“Talk to Hagrid. It was his idea.” Hermione insisted, indignant and defensive of her friend.

“Very well. We will have words with him.” He agreed, before he and the other charged off.

She does not quite remember getting back to Hagrid, or the visit with the hospital wing, or Hermione helping her sneak out of the hospital wing to get back to Gryffindor Tower before Madam Pomfrey could catch them; at least not clearly. What she does remember is the look in Hagrid’s eyes, how guilt ridden he’d been when he saw how hurt she was. A part of her hoped this was enough to remind him that there was a difference between what he thought was dangerous, and what was actually dangerous to everyone else. Ron had stayed up waiting for them, which was unnecessary but nice. When she sags into her own bed, she dreams of going to another school, and taking all her newfound friends with her.

Her scar hurt all the time now, even during exams. That everyone wanted to go outside afterwards wasn’t too bad though. It was hot enough to be bordering between painful and pleasant, with the cool breeze complimenting it nicely. Hermione had been going over their answers, because that’s how she winds down. Ron just has flashbacks about how bad he thinks he did, especially as Hermione continued on, but both assure him that he’s been studying enough. He’d been doing good once he realized just how much he’d started leaning on Hermione for her brain.

“Did we ever figure out who was after the philosopher's stone?” Hermione asked suddenly. Hera wasn't too sure when Hermione had worked out what was being guarded in the third corridor, so she doesn't feel too bad about not telling them what had happened over Christmas break before now.

“Nope.” Hera admitted with a pop, her head laying on Hermione’s legs like they were a pillow. “Took care of it though.”

“Hera Potter, you did not ‘take care’ the philosopher’s stone!” Hermione huffed, sitting up from her sunning spot.

“I sort of did, on accident…over Christmas break.” Hera admitted, her eyes still closed, and then proceeded to explain the events of the mirror.

“I can’t believe you told Nicolas Flamel to keep people’s hands out of his unmentionables.” Hermione exclaimed, scandalized, chuckling under her breath.

“So let me get this straight. You’ve been sitting on the perfect prank for Snape all this time?” Ron asked, as if personally offended.

“Professor Snape, Ron.”

“It’s not Snape…” Hera replied with a smile. “…but yes.”

“You two do this on purpose.”

Hera doesn’t even have to open her eyes to know that Hermione is still smiling at them.

“Think we should tell Dumbledore?” Ron asked, thoughtfully.

“Nah. He’ll be gone till tomorrow anyway.” Hera shrugged. “Heard the portraits talking about it.”

“Then whoever it is that wants the stone is going to try tonight.” Hermione concluded. “We should go, at least to see who it is.”

“But the stone’s not there anymore.” Hera objected pitifully, just this shy of whinging.

“They don’t know that though.” Ron pointed out. “It’s perfect.”

“Wow, you were right.” Hera remarked in mild amusement, as she watches a sleeping Fluffy. “Hagrid can’t keep a secret to save his arse.”

There was a self playing harp nearby to keep Fluffy asleep. The trapdoor was already open, leading down to a pitch black state. She wasn’t sure, but it looked…leafy?…Without hesitation, she takes a run and go, and canon ball jumps into the pit. It was a soft landing, and one by one, the others jumped in as well.

“Okay, so there may be a slight problem with my ‘Jump right in’ plan.” Hera admits when she gets a good look around. “Anyone know what this is, because I’ve got nothing.”

...

“There’s no wood.” Ron grumbles. “Honestly.”

“Oh, shut it, Ron.” Hermione snaps, more embarrassed than anything else.

...

“Are we trying to be subtle or no?” Hera asks thoughtfully, staring at the locked door across the room.

“I think we’re past subtle.” Hermione shrugged. Ron nodded in agreement.

“Alright, you two prepare to cast Protego; one in front, one above.” Hera decided.

“Uh…Why?” Ron asked, but Hera was already casting.

“BOMBARDA MAXIMA!” She shouted, pointing her wand at the door.

Both Ron and Hermione cast protego automatically. Pieces of wood flew everywhere, some big enough that it would have killed them had they not cast the shield charms they had. Of course, this is when the keys revolt, and start swooping down. Hermione’s shield above them held as they ran across the room. Ron whirled around just as Hermione ended the protego charm.

“Arresto Momentum!” With his spell, the keys just sort of hover there, and the girls just look at him in shock. “What? You two agreed on not being subtle.”

“That’s a fourth year spell.” Hermione points out, sounding impressed.

“So’s that boomy one.” Ron feels the need to point it, before looking horrified at what he’d just said. “That’s it. You two are a bad influence. I’m reading when I get bored. I’ll turn into Percy at this rate.”

...

“Now, don’t be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess-”

“We’re not offended. I’m not offended. You?”

“Nope. Not offended. Completely unoffended.”

"Look at us, being all unoffended."

...

Hera takes the place of knight, Ron got the bishop, and Hermione the castle. Ron directs them with confidence, but they all still jump when the first knight gets sacrificed. Hera secretly wants to blast this one too, but Ron is really in his element here, and she doesn’t want to take it from him. They take as many of the white pieces as they can, darting around the chessboard. The game seems to pause though, when Ron hesitates, and the white queen is staring at her.

“Oh.” Hera murmurs, when she realizes why.

“Hera, I can’t…I can’t think of another move.” Ron looks like this is eating him with guilt, and now she really wished she’d just blown the board to smithereens.

“Will that leave you free to checkmate the king?” She asks. Ron grimaced, but nods. “I’ll be fine. Do it.”

“NO!” Hermione cried in anguish.

“Oh, it’s not going to kill me.” Hera insists, dismissively. “It’ll just wallop me up some. I’ll be fine. Had worse with the Dursleys. Besides, it’s not like we’re in a hurry. I can take a nap via white knight.”

...

“Did we win?” Hera asked groggily, when they woke her up.

“Yeah, but Hermione might never forgive us.” Ron replied in a snarky manner, but even so he looked relieved.

“You two are going to give me a heart attack, I just know it.” Hermione declared. “After this, it’s off Madam Pomfrey for you.”

...

“Oh dear God, it’s words.” Hera grumbled, upon seeing the writing, leaning into Ron. “I can’t do words right now. My head hates everything. Mione?”

“Give me a minute.” The girl replies, fondly. She loves a good logic puzzle.

...

“There’s only enough for one though.” Hera frowned at the little bottle. “Maybe it refills itself?”

“Has to be.”

“Which one’s the wine?” Hera asks suddenly, having an idea. “I’m gonna need alcohol for this.”

Hermione points to one, but doesn’t have time to ask why Hera needs it before the girl is taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Hera!” Hermione scolds.

“What?” Hera asked, coughing lightly, with an air of innocence. “I thought I’d get an early start on that drinking problem I plan to have.”

Hermione was not amused, though Ron did a passable job at hiding that he was.

“Relax. This stuff tastes awful. Why do adults like this? I just figured it would help with my head. On the list of stupid decisions, this one is on the low end.” Hera insists flippantly, before taking another swig of wine and then the potion. She’s through the flames before they can think to stop her.

...

Quirrell, and wasn’t that a surprise, was running around picking up what looked like copies of that grubby stone she'd sent back to Flamel. There were thousands of grubby little stones everywhere. Every so often, Quirrell would argue with himself, replying with voices that did not sound like his own. He stopped when he saw Hera just standing there with her eyebrow arched at him. He looked indignant at how unimpressed she seemed to find all this.

“I’m not going to lie. I was expecting better.” Hera admitted, leaning against the wall. “Professor McGonagall would make a better villain than you.”

“She is nothing compared to-”

“Are you kidding me? She’d be perfect. Stern. Intimidating. Precise. She could take over the world if she just glared at it hard enough like it had disappointed her.” She assessed, then tilted her head to regard him. “You look weird without a turban.”

She was not expecting the face on the back of his head.

“See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapor…I have form only when I share another’s body…but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…”

Whatever he had been about to say was cut off by her laughter.

“Mate, you look like you lost a ‘got your nose’ contest with a baby!” Hera wheezed as she laughed, before quickly dodging the curse Quirrellmort sent her way. “Wait, you did! With me! I’m the baby!” Another curse to dodge.

“Is that what’s in my scar? I really hope I don’t have your nose lodged in my forehead like some sort of absorbing twin situation.” Another curse to dodge.

“How do you like Dandruff?” Another curse to dodge.

“What do you do when you have an itch? Do you just have him scratch the back of his head for your face?” Dodge.

“Do you realize the Weasley twins have been pelting your face with floating garlic pods and snowballs?”

“Kill her! Kill her, and be done with it!”

Hera wasn’t sure what to do. It happened so fast. Quirrell charged her, instead of flinging another curse, and she was too close to reach for her wand or cast anything. When he grabbed her, she reacted without thought. Hauling back, she put her entire body into the punch she landed close to his heart. There was a cracking sound, and Quirrell stopped moving, blinking in shock for a moment before he fell. Hera’s vision swam, and then she was falling too.

...

She wakes up slowly, blinking in confusion. It was possible that hit to the head did more damage than she’d previously thought. Wait, could wine make you hallucinate? Was this a hang over? That looked like Madam Pomfrey staring down at her in clear disapproval. Then again, Hermione had threatened her with Madam Pomfrey. Surely she hadn’t meant it…or, Hera realized as Madam Pomfrey’s face became clearer and she could see the stern disapproval on her face, she had. Oh, dear.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, you know.” Hera remarks, but Madam Pomfrey’s expression doesn’t change. Just how much trouble is she in?

“You have severe head trauma, Miss Potter.” Madam Pomfrey scolded.

“How’s Quirrell?” Hera asked, closing her eyes against the headache she could feel coming on.

Maybe that was the hangover? Had she drank enough for that? Was two swigs enough for that at her age? She wanted to ask, but that would lead to admitting to underage drinking, and she had a feeling she was already in trouble enough as it was. Best not to add anything more to the table for now, just in case.

“Dead.” The matron explained pointedly. “Somehow, he was hit so hard that a piece of rib broke off and impaled his heart. I should quite like to know how you did that. Also, his hands were completely black from frostbite. Your friends brought you up, and the Headmaster investigated the scene to confirm their story.”

“Am I going to get expelled for murdering a professor?” Hera asked, already sleepy once more. “Does it count as murder if it was in self defense? He had a second face on the back of his head. I’m pretty sure it was Voldesnort. I can’t believe that people are afraid of a man so desperate to cling to life that he was willing to deal with Quirrell’s dandruff. Who does that?”

“Just five minutes.” Hera pleaded. Madam Pomfrey was a wonderful woman, kind and patient, and very strict.

“Absolutely not.”

“You let Professor Dumbledore in…”

“That was the Headmaster, quite different. You need rest.”

“I am resting. Look, in a bed and everything. This pillow is so fluffy. Please…”

“Oh, very well,” she relented. “But five minutes only.”

Hera couldn’t help but grin in triumph, amused when Madam Pomfrey tried to look all the more stern for her acquiescence, bustling from her bed while muttering about that Potter trademarked smirk. Ron and Hermione rushed into the room, both eager to make sure she was alright. It was strange to have such concern turned towards her, but she relished it. They listened attentively to her tell what happened in the last room, laughing when they too realized what the twins had inadvertently done. Someone would have to tell them later.

Hagrid stopped by sometime later, crying that it had been his fault. It hadn’t been, not really. The trap had been too well set for her for it to have been his fault. Dumbledore may have thought he was doing her a favor by letting her face the man who murdered her family, but did it count as murder if you’re in a war? Hera didn’t know, and didn’t feel it was something she should try to tackle at such a young age. There were fully grown adults who couldn’t answer that question; Dumbledore had been one such adult. Besides, even if it were, there were plenty of other people who probably deserved the revenge more than she did.

The sobbing half giant had tried to apologize numerous times, which she refused to accept. Really, none of it had been malicious towards her. He could try and do better about secret keeping going forward, if he really wanted to apologize, but she held no ill will towards him. She hadn’t been prepared for the photo album he’d spent days working on. She hadn’t even been able to thank him, unable to speak as she touched the photographs of her parents and their friends. Thankfully, he’d understood.

The Great Hall became almost silent for a moment when she entered for the feast. Hera smiled gratefully, seeing her friends wave her over enthusiastically. The entire room was decked out in Slytherin colours, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. With her friends around her, it was hard to care about much. They had helped her survive the year, and she was already looking forward to what could happen next year.

“Another year!” Dumbledore exclaimed cheerfully. “What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were…you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…”

The man states what the points are, that the house cup needs awarding, but something isn’t right…Why does she have a sinking feeling about this?

“First – to Ronald Weasley…”

Oh, he was not.

“…for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award…”

Oh, but he was.

Gryfindor cheered, but Hera was beginning to feel sick. This was awful. He couldn’t really mean to be doing this, right? She’d wanted to win, but if this was the cost, she wasn’t sure she wanted to pay it. Ron looked so happy though…

“Second – to Hermione Granger…for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award…”

This wasn’t right…it wasn’t…

but could she take it from them?…

“Thirdly – to Hera Potter…”

Oh no. No, no, no.

“…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award…”

Please, no…

“There are all kinds of courage,” Dumbledore continued when the cheering died down. “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.”

No, she couldn’t…She wouldn’t let him do this.

...

“How dare you.” They hear once Dumbledore had changed the colours of the decorations in the room, and they look to see Hera standing in the middle of the room. Strange that she’d spoken so quietly, and yet her voice had boomed throughout the room.

“Albus?” Minerva hesitantly inquired.

“Accidental magic.” Albus mused. “Has to be.”

“How dare you steal this from them just because I had to go see what stupid trap you’d set!”

Oh. So she’d figured that out?

“They earned it by being cunning, and not getting caught breaking rules like I did.” She growled. “How dare you steal this from them, to try and buy Gryffindor’s loyalty by rewarding my friends and I for breaking the rules again. I risked my life! For nothing! For amusement! And you want to reward us for that?!”

“Hera, I suggest you sit back down.” Albus placated, as she slowly stalked towards them.

“I will not. What you just did is unsportsmanlike, and wrong, and what’s worse is that you know it.” She replied scathingly. “The only points that should even count are Neville’s, because he’d been standing guard duty in the common room, trying to make sure no one snuck out and lost us more points. An acknowledgment that we cleaned up your mess would have been sufficient.”

“Have a care how you speak to your Headmaster, Potter.” Severus warned.

“Then tell me I’m wrong.” She countered, glaring at him now. “Tell me that isn’t exactly what he’s doing.”

The man glared, but said nothing.

“Though her delivery is a bit…lacking in manners, perhaps I was a bit hasty in awarding points, and a simple acknowledgment of her efforts to contain Quirinus before I could return would have been enough.” Albus allowed, as he watched her. “Very well, upon further consideration, the previous points stand, with the exception of Mr. Longbottom. While not enough to win the house cup, it is commendable, and worth mentioning.”

The decorations returned to Slytherin colours.

“Do not think this wins you any points with me, Potter.” Severus quietly warned.

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t do it for you, isn’t it.” She quipped, before chancing a look at Gryffindor, and sighing. “They’re gonna hate me for this.”

“Probably.” Minerva replied fondly. “Your mother had much the same sense of fair play. She would be proud.”

...

“Did that just happen?” Blaise whispered next to Draco. He couldn’t react, which was just as well, because Potter was all of a sudden standing in front of him.

“Potter, what are you playing at?” He manages.

“I figure if I’m going to commit social suicide within Gryffindor House, I might as well do the thing properly.” She shrugged. “I should have accepted your friendship right away when you offered. I was going to, but I just didn’t want you to think I couldn’t make my own decisions, and I didn’t like that you were already belittling my very first friends. While we may never be friends, friendly rivals might be nice.”

Draco narrowed his eyes for a moment, before reaching out his hand. “Draco Malfoy. How much do you know about wizarding culture?”

“Hera Potter.” She reciprocated, shaking his hand. “Almost nothing. I bought a bunch of books, but I don’t know how helpful they actually were. Care to teach me?”

“I’ll owl you over the summer.” Draco sighed, like it was such a bother. His father would be over the moon when he heard about this.

“About that.” She grimaced. “I live with magic hating muggles? Owls might be a problem.”

“You’re a problem, Potter.” Draco countered. She’d just snorted, grinned like a loon, and left for her table. He looked back to Blaise. “What just happened?”

“You just made a potential ally of Potter.” Blaise replied, almost sounding impressed considering Draco had in no way engineered that. “That’s what just happened.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“About that.” She grimaced. “I live with magic hating muggles? Owls might be a problem.”

“You’re a problem, Potter.” Draco countered. She’d just snorted, grinned like a loon, and left for her table. He looked back to Blaise. “What just happened?”

“You just made a potential ally of Potter.” Blaise replied, almost sounding impressed considering Draco had in no way engineered that. “That’s what just happened.”

Chapter 7

“Harry Potter.” the little creature whispered reverently, standing on her bed…wearing what looked like a pillowcase. “So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, Miss…Such an honour it is.”

She was going to have to send a message through that vanishing box thing. Whatever or whoever this was had managed to get through the wards. Could she have them upgraded? She should at least be able to justify having additions to them. That something could invade her home like this did nothing to make her feel secure. To be fair, nothing about living with the Dursleys made her feel secure, and she was pretty much on high alert all the time.

“Uh…who are you?” Hera asked, backing into the door, eyes wide as she stares at the intruder.

“Dobby, Miss. Just Dobby. Dobby the house elf.” the creature stated enthusiastically.

“I wasn’t really expecting visitors, or else I might have tidied up a bit.” She replied somewhat awkwardly. “Is there a reason why you’re here though?”

“Oh, yes, Miss.” Dobby nodded earnestly. “Dobby has come to tell you…it is difficult…Dobby wonders where to begin…”

“The beginning is usually best, unless you want to start in the middle, which might be awkward. Starting at the end works too, but only if you’re willing to go through the pain of prequels.” Hera replied without thinking. She wasn’t sure the little guy was aware she was being sarcastic, but it was too late to turn back now.

“Harry Potter has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn her…” Dobby whispers almost ominously. “Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.”

It takes her a minute to even process that.

“Uh…Why?” Hera asks.

“There is a plot, most dangerous. Harry Potter must not go. Must stay where she is safe.” Dobby insisted.

Okay, so it’s going to be one of those days. They seem to happen a lot now. Oh well. Only one way to deal with it.

“Alright.” She agrees. “Harry Potter will not go to Hogwarts.”

He’s so delighted that he gives her the mail he’d been holding back from her, and pops away without another word. She’s kinda shocked she actually had mail, partly because she had warned people that the Dursleys were magic haters, and would view owl post as an infringement on their normalcy. She’d agreed that Harry Potter would not go to Hogwarts. After all, She was not Harry Potter, and she would be going to Hogwarts. Perhaps he should have stuck around to see her write a note to Gringotts about the loop holes in the Blood Wards she lived under, sticking it in the vanishing box they’d given her for secure banking purposes.

“Psst.” She looks up, and suddenly Ron’s head is sticking out of thin air. “Flying Ford Angela, invisible at the moment. You want in? We’re staging a rescue.”

Well, today was certainly eventful.

“My stuff is downstairs, locked in my old ro…I mean the cupboard under the stairs.” She whispered back.

She’d only managed to keep the vanishing box, her wand, and her cloak away from Dursley hands. The trunk wouldn’t have fit in her bag, and she wasn’t sure if she could shrink it and expand it at home with the whole no doing magic at home thing. The Vanishing box was small enough to fit in a pocket. The cloak she’d hid in Dudley’s old cast offs, and it wasn’t like they had thought to strip search her. She’d put the wand in a fake seam, after transfiguring a stick to look like her wand at school.

That had been a good thing too, because Uncle Vernon had snapped it as soon as they got home, right before locking up the trunk, and threatening to kill Hedwig. Maybe she could ask someone about the shrinking and unshrinking charms for her trunk,…and get a fake trunk so Uncle Vernon could still feel important when he threw it out. It would have been too suspicious to come back with nothing, and would be even more so if she suddenly had nothing to bring home.

“Not a problem.” One of the twins whispered back.

“They’re having a dinner party.” She hissed back.

“Okay. Maybe a slight problem.” The same twin amended. “Hang on, coming in.” Then he’s through the window. “Lead on.”

The car is quiet, so quiet she hadn’t even heard it before Ron called for her attention, but she agrees and hesitantly opens the door to her room.

“If you can keep things quiet, I can keep us unseen.” She whispers to him. The twin nods, but then his jaw hangs open when she whips out the invisibility cloak. Fred then. George already knew about the cloak, and had been sworn to secrecy. “Remember, not a sound.”

Fred casts a spell over them, now that they’re covered, and the two cautiously make it down the stairs. She holds the cloak over them while he picks the lock on the door, casts a few charms on the trunk that has it floating a bit, carefully closes the door, locks it back, and they make their way back up the stairs. Ron helps Fred with the trunk into the invisible Ford Angela. She’d taken off the cloak and stashed it before they entered her room again, and gives a sharp look to Fred, which he’d nodded in understanding. A surprised Ron would not be able to hold back from asking about it, and that was the last thing they needed right then.

Being in that car, even though she can’t see it, is the safest she’s felt all summer, and she manages a bit of sleep. At least, she had felt safe until they got to where Ron called ‘The Burrow’. With an angry shouting red headed woman in full rampage mode, Hera did the only thing that made sense. She panicked, somehow winding up in a small enclosed space she hoped no one could find her in, and passed out. When she came to, it was to the soothing smells of tea and biscuits. Mrs. Weasley was cautiously bringing a tray of things to her, and Hera found herself camped out on the settee.

“How did I…” Hera starts, but then groans when she realizes she’s done something freakish again.

“Best to take is slow, Dear.” Mrs. Weasley advised as she sat the tea service down on the coffee table. “You had a burst of accidental magic, I think, and apparated into one of the upstairs closets.”

“Mate, that was bloody brilliant!” Ron crowed, bursting into the room at that moment, only she startled…and it happened again.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley! What did I say about barging in here like some common hooligan?” She hears as she curls in on herself in what must be the pantry.

“How did she survive Gryffindor Tower last year?” One of the twins asks, cutting through their mother’s no doubt lengthy rant on Ron’s manners. “I don’t remember her being so skittish.”

“I don’t room with her, for one.” Ron replied nonchalantly. “Mione says Hera is always the last one awake in the dorm, but somehow the first one up. I don’t think she sleeps much.”

“Hera?…” Mrs. Weasley softly called, now much closer to the pantry than before. “Can you come out now?”

“I don’t think I can move.” Hera admitted sheepishly, causing a flurry of snickering as Mrs. Weasley opened the door.

That began her introduction to the Weasley clan. She already liked Fred and George, or Gred and Forge as you like, pranksters extraordinaire.She seemed to gain a lot more respect from Percy with that rant at the end of last year. Ginny had blushed the moment she saw her, which was nice and awkward all at once. Bill and Charlie were out of the country, all grown now, but Molly didn’t need to know that Hera had already met Charlie. The only one she hadn’t met practically right away was Mr. Weasley, who asked all kinds of questions about eclectictry.

“You’re the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts?” Hera asked, trying not to let her doubt show on her face. She weeps internally for the state of the rest of the Ministry.

“I have a shed filled with muggle things, if you wouldn’t mind taking a look with me? I’d love a perspective from someone who’s actually grown up in a muggle home.” He replies enthusiastically.

“Arthur! I’m sure she doesn’t want-” Mrs. Weasley began, but Hera can already see the resignation in his eyes. He’s used to having his enthusiasm stomped on by well meaning family members.

“I’d love to!” Hera blurted, unable to stand seeing that look. She took him by the arm, and lead him out before Mrs. Weasley could stop them. “While we’re at it, I’ll go over how they pronounce certain things, so you don’t go raising suspicions from muggles while you’re out. I imagine that’s a hazard of the job.”

The man instantly looks like he’s been given the best Christmas ever, so she feels a little guilty for thinking so scathingly of him before.

The next day…

“De-gnoming a garden?” Hera’s ever present curiosity really wants to know what that is, and how to go about it.

As it turned out, garden gnomes were nothing like those things people put in their yards. They were small leathery looking things, with knobby bald heads that sort of reminded her of a potato. She’d gone to try to inspect one closely, and discovered that they bite. The de-gnoming made a lot more sense now. Ron showed her what they do; which was pretty much just get them dizzy, and then toss them as hard as one can.

She wouldn’t have tried to throw the first one she found so hard had Ron not also made the comment about girls not being able to throw very far. It was an offhanded comment, and to be fair she still had noodles for arms, but it annoyed her nonetheless. Grabbing the first gnome she found, Hera swung it enough to get it dizzy, and then tossed it for all she was worth. The little thing soared well beyond the hedge they were using as a goal point, and far into the next field. The Weasley children sort of stopped what they were doing, and stared at her in shock for a moment.

“Uh…Oops?”

The air was soon thick with flying gnomes, each trying to out do Hera’s throws.

There were many things about the Weasley household to marvel at. The bathroom mirror mouthed off at her before she was fully awake to understand there wasn’t someone behind her. The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and hearing explosions coming from Fred and George’s room was a regular occurrence. What she found most unusual wasn’t the talking mirror or the ghoul: It was the fact that everyone there seemed to like her.

She was convinced Mrs. Weasley was trying to make up for all the meals the Dursleys never let her have. It was a shock that a family actually wanted her to sit at the table with them, let alone to eat with them. School was different somehow. Mr. Weasley quizzed her on muggle items, and how things worked. One day, she hoped that she could get him to not talk about muggles like they’re fish in an aquarium. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it, so it’s hard to be mad at him for it.

Ginny is nervous and shy around her, but Hera quickly confides in her that she isn’t friends with many girls, and it would be nice to have another friend. After that, the younger girl talks with her a little bit more. She’s still shy, still blushes whenever she catches Hera’s eyes, but it’s a start. Percy doesn’t talk much either, keeps to his room most of the day, only coming out for meal times. He’s civil with her, if unsure of how to react to her.

“Mrs. Weasley, would it be alright if I buy Ginny her wand?” Hera asked, as Mrs. Weasley was worrying over all the books they were going to have to buy. She was weird about money, and knew they would be too, so she’d have to tread carefully. “It’s just…You’ve all been so nice, letting me stay here…”

“You don’t have to do that, Hera dear.” Mrs. Weasley explained, looking a bit flustered.

“I know, but I wanted to do something nice, and I’m sure it will help her with her casting to have a wand attuned to her. That counts on grades.” Hera insisted. “Besides, I’d like to stop by Ollivanders anyway, see if they have anything for wand care and theft prevention.”

“I really don’t want you to think you have to buy us.” Mrs. Weasley stated, a little uncomfortable about it. “We’re nice to you because you’re a good kid, and you’re friends with Ron, not because you’re rich and famous.”

“I wasn’t trying to…I just…You weren’t expecting me, and you’ve been so nice…”

She was still getting use to people being nice to her at all, that she hadn’t thought trying to be a generous guest would be seen like that, and now she was the one blushing in embarrassment. This was awful.

...

After their venture into Ollivander’s, Mrs. Weasley let them lose on Diagon Alley. Knowing she wouldn’t get the chance to do any Christmas shopping when the time came, unless she asked Professor McGonagall for assistance again, she took this time to buy gifts she hoped would be appreciated. She was dreading the visit to the book store, a trip she would normally look forward to, having seen the crowd of people swarming the place. Hera didn’t really care for crowds all that much. In fact, when they got there, Hera ducked behind the bookshelves rather than deal with the crowd at all.

It’s from this vantage point that she sees Gilderoy Lockhart announce that he’d be taking the position of the DADA professor this year. Hermione looks absolutely starstruck, and Hera sighed in exasperation. She thought she had smarter friends. To be fair, she also hadn’t expected Mrs. Weasley to be taken in by such a cad either, as she seemed to be a no-nonsense sort of woman. There’s something about him that just pings wrong to her.

It is also from this vantage point that she can see the fight Mr. Weasley gets into it with Mr. Malfoy. Even if Mrs. Weasley loudly objects to the fight, and scolds him afterwords, the way he made Mr. Malfoy’s head snap back like that was impressive. She also sees it when Mr. Malfoy slips in a small black book in with the others of Ginny’s cauldron. It is the easiest thing in the world to offer to help carry Ginny’s things on their way back, to take the little black journal that had been hidden in one of the books. She had not, however, anticipated getting caught.

“What are you doing?”

She tensed before turning around, holding the diary she’d meant to replace the black book with.

“I got these at the book shop, and I wanted to sneak it into your cauldron before you noticed. It’s a diary, charmed so that it never runs out of pages, and once you open it, it will attune itself to your magic.” Hera explained nervously. “I remember what it was like when I first got to Hogwarts, and I wished I’d had something like this. In fact, I bought one for me too, and another for Hermione.”

She pulls out another one from her bag.

“I was going to sneak this into her bag later.”

“And you’re sneaking around about it because…” Ginny asked, suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at her. Okay, to be fair, the story was weak.

“I’m not used to having money, and my friends are weird about me buying them gifts, like they think I’m trying to buy their friendship.” Hera groaned, slumping her shoulders. “I didn’t even know that was a trap I could fall into, or that other people would try to exploit it. I just want to be nice. Have a diary.”

And with that, she quickly shoved diary she’d tried to sneak into Ginny’s cauldron into the girl’s hands, and ran out of the room.

So the little creature Dobby had caught on to his mistake, she realized when they could not get onto the platform. They weren’t going to get to school that way, and for some odd reason Mrs. Weasley had gone ahead of them. She wouldn’t be able to make it back that way. Ron and Hera shrugged, and made their way back to the Ford Angela to wait. Maybe it would let Mrs. Weasley back through if they were gone.

“You ever drove a car before?” Ron asked, eyeing the car in contemplation.

“Read the manual a bunch of times, because I got bored at the Dursleys.” Hera shrugged. “You?”

Ron shook his head. “Mum would never let me. Watched Fred and George muck about with it though. I think I could remember what they did.”

“But your mum and dad…” Hera countered. “How will they get home?”

“They don’t need the car! We do!” Ron exclaimed impatiently. “They know how to Apparate! You know, just vanish and reappear at home! They only bother with…what are you doing?”

“Writing a letter to send with Hedwig.” Hera replied, already digging through her trunk.

“Why can’t we just take the car?” Ron groans in frustration. “By the time they even get the letter, we could have been there already.”

“You want to take the car? Go for it. I am not risking expulsion just because you want to take your dad’s car for a joyride.” She snapped. Ron huffed and crossed his arms, settling in for a good brood against the car.

...

“Still would have been cool.” Ron grumbles under his breath, some time later. Hera sighs, but doesn’t deny it.

“Yes, it would have been cool, but can we save that stunt for when we actually know how to drive?” She allows, and the two share a small grin. “Hermione would kill us otherwise.”

...

Several hours later, and nothing’s happened. No one has come for them. Hedwig had left ages ago. Every so often, Ron would suggest the car. Every time he did that, Hera would say no. Ronald was beginning to lose his temper, and Hera didn’t know how much longer she could stand listening to him.

“I say we should take the car.” He declared.

“And I said no.” Hera shot back.

“It’s my families car, not yours!” Ron shouted, having finally lost his temper. “If I want to drive it, I will!”

“I should hope not, Mr. Weasley.” Came the cold voice of one Professor Snape, as he strolled up to them. “Now, someone will be along to pick up the car shortly. You two will be coming with me.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

1992/ 2^nd year

Gilderoy Lockhart came off as a bumbling moron, and yet the very first time he’d tried to talk to her, warning bells rang in her mind. Within five minutes of seeing her with the other members of her House, he’d singled her out, all but slamming the greenhouse door in Professor Sprouts face to separate them. The way he looked like a predator zeroing in on his prey when he saw her made Hera wonder if this is the sort of danger Mrs. Weasley warned her of, or if this was something more sinister, yet all the other students seemed to be enamoured with him. Even Hermione, who Hera viewed as more nonsensical than her, had her brains turned to mush at the sight of that ungodly white smile.

Professor Sprout had actually pulled her aside after class was over to make sure that she was alright. Assuring the woman she was fine, Hera took heart that at least the teachers hadn’t lost their sanity. She must have sent a message up to Professor McGonagall, because the same thing happened after her class. Lunch was a relief, but she made sure to keep Lockhart and the exit within her sight, not wanting to be surprised. Letting the noise of conversations around her, Hera began piling her plate with food.

“What do we have this afternoon?” She asked, seeing that Ron and Hermione were about to start arguing again.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Hermione answered promptly.

“Why,” demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, “have you outlined all Lockhart’s lessons in little hearts?”

Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.

“I want you to watch yourself around him, Hermione. There’s something off about him.” Hera said softly, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“There is nothing wrong with him.” Hermione huffed. “You’re just being paranoid.”

“Then why did he separate me from Professor Sprout?” Hera asked, making Hermione frown for a moment. “Why would he need to talk to me, alone, without an adult present? I felt uncomfortable, and even though I tried to hedge away from him, he cut off any chance of me escaping to class. Professor Sprout saw how uncomfortable I was, and rescued me, made sure I was okay after class.”

“Really?” Hermione hesitated, fidgeting. She didn’t want to think badly of a professor, not even Professor Snape who was disliked by almost everyone. “You think he’s that bad?”

“As awful as the Dursleys treat me, they’ve never made me feel like that.” Hera admitted.

“Maybe…Maybe it’s nothing.” Hermione hedged.

Hera sighed in defeat. “It could be nothing, but still…Please be careful, just to be on the safe side?”

Hermione nodded numbly, but Hera had very little hope of her heeding the warning.

“Uh…Hera…There’s a kid staring at you.” Ron whispered.

They’d gone outside after lunch, enjoying a bit of sun before the next class. Hermione was still nose deep in Voyages with Vampires, and so hadn’t noticed. Hera looked up to see a very small mousy-haired boy holding what looked like an ordinary camera, though a bit more inclined towards professional photography. The moment he saw Hera looking at him, he went beet red, but by then it was too late. Hera had had an idea.

“Is that a professional camera?” She asks, gesturing to it.

“Yeah! My dad got it for me, because that’s what I want to do when I grow up. I’ve decided.” The boy insisted. “Hi, my name is Colin Creevey. I’m in Gryffindor too.”

“Hera Potter. It’s nice to meet you.” Hera greeted, shaking his hand. “Have you taken a picture of the castle yet?”

“No, but I plan on it.” Colin replied, enthusiastically. “A boy in my dormitory said that if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures will move! Thought about taking a picture of the Whomping Willow for my dad.”

The boy was holding his camera, looking more and more hopeful by the second, and Hera had a sneaking suspicion she knew where this was going.

“Say, could you…Once classes are over, could you take a picture for me? A friend got me a photo album, and I’d like to start adding to it, only I don’t have a camera.” Hera asked quietly. “Could you stop by the common room and take some pictures of me and my friends here? I could pay you, if you want. I imagine you’ll need supplies if you want to go professional in the long run.”

The boy looked like he might die of happiness at any moment.

“You would do that?” Colin asked, happily.

“Of course, I would.” Hera replied earnestly. “Wizarding photography sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to see what you do with it.”

They say goodbye, and begin making their way back inside, when she turns around.

“It was nice meeting you, Colin!” She yells across the green. “Good luck with your photography!”

Colin waves, ecstatic, and rushes off to class. She turns back around to see Ron and Hermione looking at her in confusion.

“That boy’s going to be famous one day, I just know it.” Hera insisted. A little more quietly, she added. “I know what it feels like to have a dream crushed. He shouldn’t have to experience that.”

That evening, Colin takes pictures of them while they’re laughing about the Pixie incident. Well, Ron and Hera were laughing. Hermione was stubbornly clinging to her books as if they were the ultimate authority, but even she smiled a little. He managed to get the entire Quidditch team too. As a special request, Hermione agreed to take a picture of him with Hera. He hadn’t expected the Girl-Who-Lived to wrap an arm around him happily as if he were one of her closest friends, but he was ecstatic nonetheless. Later, he manages to catch her off guard and takes a picture of her playing chess with her friend Ron, and she wasn’t even mad about it.

“I want a copy of that one too!” She’d called out with a grin.

“Can I come take pictures of the practice?” He asks, when he sees her the next morning.

“I don’t think Oliver will appreciate that very much.” Hera replied. She leans over and whispers. “I think he’s paranoid the other teams will steal the moves from your photographs. Have you asked Professor McGonagall about taking pictures of the matches? He can’t say anything against that. Ask if there’s a news or photography club too. We should have something. If we don’t, see if there’s interest in one.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that!” He admitted, quickly writing down the idea, already excited about the possibilities.

He’s not quite out of the room yet, when he hears one of the Weasley twins yawn. “Why are you so nice to that kid? He’s always blinding people with that camera of his.”

He was expecting laughter. He was expecting snide remarks. He was not expecting understanding.

“I know what it’s like to have a dream crushed, Fred.” She replied softly. “He shouldn’t have to experience that.”

He wonders what sort of dream the Girl-Who-Lived could have that was crushed, and then realizes all at once what she would want above all else. Oh. That’s why she’s encouraging his dreams. They’re attainable. Hers never will be, because what she wants is her family back, and that’s not the kind of dream she can achieve without dying too. She’s made him her friend, and he isn’t sure what kind of help he can actually give, but he’ll try. She’s helping him achieve his dreams. What more could a friend ask for?

October was upon them before they knew it, and with it a sort of chill fell over the air. Madam Pomfrey kept a steady stock of Pepperup potion for just this reason, as colds seemed to run rampant. Hera was having to take one after every practice, because heavy downpour of raindrops the size of bullets wasn’t seen as an excuse to stop, and walked around for hours afterwards with steam coming out of her ears. Once she’d cast a few Tergio and scorgify charms to rid herself and the hallway of the mud, (it did pay to read as a hobby) she knew she’d be headed up to Madam Pomfrey’s once more. It was on her way out of the entrance hall that she spotted Sir. Nick, completely engrossed in his muttering to himself…something about not qualified for the headless hunt…don’t meet the requirements…forty five whacks, and half an inch of…oh!

...

“Baron!” He hears Potter call out as she bursts into the Great Hall, and of course she stalks right up to the Bloody Baron. “I have a question, if you’ll permit it, Baron.”

“For you, my dear? Of course!” The Baron replied, bowing low to her. Why would the Bloody Baron of all ghosts bow to Potter?!

“Can ghosts affect each other?” She asked earnestly. “A push? A slap? Things like that.”

“Yes.” The Baron replied after a moment. “May I ask why?”

“Sir Nick is bemoaning the fact that he’s only nearly headless.” Potter continued, not really answering the question.

“And?”

“You have the ghost of your sword with you.” Potter stated, staring at the Baron pointedly. It was only a moment before the Bloody Baron was floating at top speed out of the Great Hall.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

thwack!

...

“That innocent look fools no one, Potter.” Severus stated, having walked down the length of the Great Hall to where she was. “What did you do?”

“Me? Do? Nothing. Absolutely not a thing. I didn’t do a thing, was standing here the whole time. Honest.” She replied with a grin.

“Mr. Malfoy, as you are undoubtedly a witness to whatever scheme Potter has concocted, you should-”

The Bloody Baron floated back into the room, looking mighty smug.

“I believe you’ll find the results satisfactory.” He commented as he passed by.

“Still pleading innocence, Potter?” Severus drawled, looking down at her.

She was still grinning, only it was more pronounced now. “I never claimed to be innocent, Professor.”

“Hera Potter! Oh, my dear, however will I thank you!” Sir Nick exclaimed as he too floated into the Great Hall……carrying his head in his arm……“Five Hundred Years, and I never once thought to ask for help from my fellows! Now I can participate in the Headless Hunt! Oh, you simply must come to the celebration of my 500^th death day this Halloween.”

“Can I bring a few friends?” Potter asked, intrigued. “I’ve never been to a Death day party before.”

“Bring all the friends you like!” Sir Nick laughed boisterously, before floating off. “I can’t wait to tell everyone!”

Potter grinned in that innocent manner he remembered all too well.

“Oh, Baron, if you ever need anything, let me know.” She called out, before running off.

...

“Colin! Do you think you would need anything special to take pictures of ghosts?” Hera asked, as she plopped down next to him, and began piling a plate for herself. “I just got invited to Sir. Nick’s 500^th Death day party this Halloween, and if that’s not a photo opportunity, I don’t know what is.”

“I can ask Professor Flitwick after class.” Colin agreed readily. “Do you think they’ll have food we can eat there?”

“I doubt it.” Hermione interjected, having quickly moved places to sit closer to them. “Not many living people get invited to these parties. I read about them once.”

“We should definitely see about bringing food with us then. I doubt they’ll mind.” Hera suggested. “Maybe Fred and George will tell me where the kitchens are.”

“Would you mind if I brought someone with me? Her dad works for a newspaper, and she’d be interested in writing an article for it.” Colin suggested.

“Nick will love that.” Hera nodded.

“Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?” Ron asked, plopping down in a seat across from Hermione. “Also, why are we sitting with the midgets?”

“You are one year older than these midgets.” Hera scolded, a small smile on her lips. “It’s not their fault you steal all their food.” She looks around to them, and gestures back to Ron. “This is what happens when you eat all your vegetables. Look at him. So high up.”

“Why aren’t you taller then?” A first year she didn’t recognize asked.

Hera sighed, and looked down at her own plate, which was suspiciously lacking in vegetables. “He ate all mine.”

The solemn moment held for a fraction of a second, and then there was snickering all around them.

“I’m bored.”

For some odd reason, no one registered the dangerousness of those words. As they were said by one Hera Potter, perhaps they should have paid a bit closer attention to them. Fred and George Weasley see the opportunity for what it is, and exploit it posthaste. They teach her how to pick locks, and then challenge her to sneak into Filch’s office and bring back proof of her exploits. She simply grinned before disappearing under the invisibility cloak.

Getting to Filch’s office was not hard, and the lock was easy to get into. He’d be dealing with dungbombs all day courtesy of Peeves, who may have been bribed with a case of them…or several. In her old school, the stuff that got confiscated was always locked in one of the lower drawers, and she found out this was true here too. The drawer marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous was easy to spot, not so easy to break into; as it turns out, there was a top part that was a shield cover for the drawer which was also locked. Knowing she was running out of time till Filch got back, she did the only thing she could think of, and took the whole drawer. She had a good enough handle on transfiguration now that she could create a new one, and left it at that.

...

“You…the whole drawer…” Fred managed, sounding strangled.

“Even we never managed…” George couldn’t seem to grasp it either.

“The whole drawer…” Fred repeated, like he was still trying to grasp at it.

“Well, you said you wanted evidence, and I couldn’t pick the lock in time.” Hera huffed, indignant. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Fred and George looked at each other, knowing full well that they would have bolted without the evidence, and taken their lumps accordingly. That thought had apparently not crossed Hera’s mind. She’d found a way to bring the whole damn drawer with her instead. Why hadn’t Filch noticed? Anyone would notice a whole drawer missing.

“I transfigured him a new drawer, and took this one.” She continued, and then held up the drawer again. “What do you think is in here? I did good, right?”

“You transfigured a new drawer?”

“What? Like it’s hard?” She shrugged.*

The two look at each other in silent conversation, and then all but fell on their knees before her, bowing as they cried as one. “We are not worthy! We are not worthy!”

She took one look at them, eyebrow arched as she tried to absorb what they weren’t saying, before turning to leave. “Boys are weird. Oh, and I’m keeping this.”

With that, she ducked under the invisibility cloak, and made her way to her own room. They had no doubt she would be able to open that drawer, given time, and could only imagine the treasure trove of pranking supplies within. They’d asked her to do that on a lark, not thinking she would actually succeed. The Weasley twins had expected her to fail, but she’d said she was bored, and so they’d given her a challenge. Instead, she’d unknowingly presented them with her own, and it was one they fully intended to accept…as soon as they figured out what it was.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

“So, Hera, about the kitchens, there’s a problem.” Fred admitted when he sat down at the table.

“Yeah, we told them who was requesting a private snack, and they may have went a little overboard.”

“How overboard are we talking about?” Hera asked, in confusion. She’d never met those working in the kitchens before, but if they reacted the way people did at the Leaky before...well, at least there would be enough for everyone.

“We’ll show you after the party.”

“You’re coming too?” Hera asked, confused once more. “But I thought…”

“Oh, we heard that Nick is going to play a prank.”

“It would be a shame to miss it.”

“Didn’t even know he had it in him.”

“Alright, well we should probably head over now.” Hera smirked, then looked around. “Was there anyone else who was going to go?”

“I’ve got the charm worked out to take pictures of ghosts properly.” Colin supplied. “Dad’s gonna be impressed.”

In the end, quite a few students followed Hera towards the dungeons. The passageway leading to Newly Headless Nick’s party had been lined with candles too, though it gave it a more eerie glow than anything else. The temperature dropped with every step they took, so it’s good that they brought their cloaks. Hera didn’t really notice, but still put hers on when the others did. The cold might take longer to creep up on her, but she didn’t want to have to deal with the questions even so.

“Sir Nick!” Hera exclaimed as the group entered the room. “This is quite the turnout you have here!”

“Welcome…welcome…” Nicholas greeted happily.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I got to talking with a few of the other Gryffindors, and they’ve all come to offer their condolences.” Hera continued, gesturing to Colin. “Colin here would actually like to take a few pictures of you and the guests, if that’s alright, and I think there’s someone here who will be writing an article for a newspaper about it.”

“Luna Lovegood.” A blonde First Year Ravenclaw announced upon being spoken of. “I’ll be writing for the Quibbler. We’ll see if any of the other Newspapers will be interested in the story, and seeing that it is the 500^th anniversary of your death, I imagine there will be several interested parties. Would you be willing to do a small interview?”

Colin was already going around taking pictures of things. While Sir Nick settled in for the interview, Hera went and found the Bloody Baron, who was standing rather alone.

“Hello, Baron, how have you been?” She asks, then leans in. “His head hasn’t…I dunno…reversed the damage, has it?”

“No, he’s waiting for Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore, leader of the Headless Hunt to show up in order to surprise him. That idiot has been showing up, stealing any attention Sir Nicholas gets whenever possible.” Baron replies, disdainfully eyeing the ghosts that were avoiding him. “It will be quite the surprise. All Nicholas has wanted was to be accepted, to be in a group of friends. He’s not realized yet that he doesn’t need them. He has friends here.”

“So…Podmore’s a bully, only he comes off all charming and stuff, so no one ever says anything, because they don’t realize what he’s doing, taken in by it as they are.” Hera summarized. “And Sir Nicholas has always wanted to be a member of the Headless Hunt because they presented themselves as the ‘cool’ kids.”

Baron nodded.

Sir Podmore had arrived, and was circling Luna trying to distract her from her interview. Colin was staunchly refusing to take pictures of him, proving that he could be just as stubborn as the rest of them. Sir Nicholas looked torn between annoyance at Podmore and admiration of Luna and Colin. Neville and Ginny were with Luna, and Hermione and Ron were walking around like frozen icicles. Fred and George just kept hitting each other with warming charms whenever, and watching the scene with expectancy.

Someone must have sent the word out, or knew about the Podmore chap ahead of time. Anyone who came in from Gryffindor Tower, even if it was only for a few minutes, ignored him in favor of Sir. Nick. Unused to being ignored, Podmore starts the Headless Hunt to steal away the attention, only to have his head knocked clear away from the arena by Sir Nicholas’ own ‘Newly’ severed head. After that, pandemonium ensued among the ghosts, and Fred and George were praising Sir Nicholas on such a spectacular prank. The Bloody Baron was drawn into the limelight when Sir Nicholas pulled him into it, insisting to anyone and everyone that the Baron was the ghost that helped him with his predicament. She noticed how shyly embarrassed the Baron was about it all, but it did get the other ghosts to stop avoiding him quite so much, and it’s not like she escaped the spotlight either.

It is here that she meets Moaning Myrtle, the ghost who haunted a girls loo. Myrtle seems like a sad and moping sort, but when she talks about her death, she’s animated. As much as Hera wants to be annoyed with her sob story of being bullied for her glasses, she also knows first hand that it’s never just that one thing, and she wonders what Myrtle hasn’t dealt with yet. They start comparing notes, talking about their trauma like it was teatime conversation. Myrtle seemed to appreciate that there was someone who wasn’t going to tell her to just get over it already, nor would she make fun of the emotions she felt, and the two promised to hang out sometime.

...

Everyone saw what Fred and George meant when they lead the group to an unused classroom. The moment they stepped into the room, a feast fit for royalty appeared before their eyes. Colin and Luna hadn’t stayed, both excited about the article and the pictures, but each took a plate with them at Hera’s insistence. Everyone was excited for the upcoming Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match, except for maybe Hermione. Fred and George laughed riotously as Hera described all the idiotic scenes Lockhart was making her perform in class, complete with dramatic posing and a swan dive or two. Ron had to catch her once, or risk her falling into his mashed potatoes, but he played it up like a champ. All in all, it was an eventful and pleasant Halloween.

Of course something was bound to go wrong sometime.

When she woke up, it was to see Madam Pomfrey fussing over her.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, you know.” Hera drawls out in amusement. Madam Pomfrey snorted, but Hera could see the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Do you even remember what happened?” Pomfrey asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

It slowly came back to her; the quidditch match, the rogue bludger, Lockhart vanishing the bones in her arm. She groaned in annoyance at it all. At least she’d caught the snitch. In her mind, she dared Hermione to champion Lockhart after this. Anyone could make a mistake, but this was ridiculous.

“You’ve been in here for three days, regrowing the bones in your arm. You had a bad reaction to the Skele-Gro, but it’s the only thing we have that will grow bones back.” Madam Pomfrey sighed in sympathy. “I’ve got Professor Snape working on something, but I don’t know how much help it will be to you now.”

“Give him time, I’m sure Lockhart will vanish something else.” Hera scowled ruefully.

The Dueling Club was something everyone was talking about. Many were imagining Professor Flitwick would be leading it. He was a dueling champion, after all. What they got was Lockhart standing there in plum robes, while Snape glared at him as if that alone would be enough to do him in. Ron never thought he would be on Snape’s side about anything, but needs must. There was no way he was going to side with Lockhart.

No one expected Hera or Draco to have an all out duel, but that’s what ended up happening. On that platform, gone was the Hera that shouted her spells so carelessly in class. Here was a Hera that was careful and precise, and oh so cutting. She knew where to strike and when, a coiled snake with nowhere left to turn, and Ron was left wondering if she’d been taking instructions from Flitwick in dueling. Her spells left icy patches where they landed when deflected, and Draco was barely keeping up. Before the final round, Snape whispered something in Draco’s ear, and then they were at it again.

...

This time, Draco summoned a snake onto the platform. Lockhart was going to get rid of it, no doubt causing another disaster, but Hera deflected the spell. No doubt this was a creature meant to scare her, but they hadn’t been there at the zoo with her and Dudley. No one breathed or made a sound as she knelt down and held out her arm to the snake, as it struck and missed. Snape looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull, they were so wide open in frozen alarm,…and she reached out again.

“I know you want to hurt me, but I did not summon you here.” Hera spoke calmly. “Would you like to scare the one who did?”

~I like you, Speaker~ It stated, slithering over to her, making its way around her arm to settle into a comfortable position as it moved to stare out in the direction it had left.

“What is this?” Draco asked, panicked, because now both the snake and Hera were glaring at him.

“It’s magic, Malfoy, my magic.” Hera declared as she stood up, calmly walking with her arm slightly outstretched in front of her, but Draco kept backing up. “What’s the matter? (The snake struck out again, but she’s pretty sure it’s just for show now) Snake got your tongue?”

“Potter, that is enough.” Snape scolded, stepping forward.

~Spoilsport~ The snake hissed, and Hera chortled because it was true.

...

As soon as the snake was gone, Hera was almost literally dragged out of the room by her two best friends. No one had said anything, but it was clear that something was wrong. Finding an unused classroom wasn’t hard, but didn’t feel necessary. Surely the common room would have been fine? When Hermione was finally through making sure the room as as secure as it could be, she turned to Hera.

“Harry, why didn’t you tell us you could talk to snakes?!” Ron asked, sounding wary and mistrustful.

“She did, when she spoke to that dragon last year.” Hermione pointed out.

“I’d only ever talked to the one dragon, so it’s not like I knew I could do that, and then there was that boa constrictor before first year.” Hera admitted with a shrug. “I don’t get what the big deal is.”

“It means you’re a parselmouth, Hera, someone who can talk to snakes.” Hermione revealed as if she should know that already. “I looked into it last year after the dragon fiasco, and the way Hagrid reacted was very telling. It’s a Dark gift, Hera. Evil. I was really hoping it was just a one off, and you’d never use it again.”

“How is it evil just because it’s a Dark gift? I don’t think that’s how magic works.” Hera argued, confused now. Why was Hermione so against this? “Besides, didn’t you see that back there? That was awesome! Malfoy nearly pissed himself. It’s worth it just for that.”

“You-Know-Who was a parselmouth.” Ron added warily. “Even Salazar Slytherin was one.”

“Yeah? Well, they don’t own the gift either.” Hera snapped in annoyance. “If I went to India, Africa, or Australia, or hopped across the pond to the Americas, how many parselmouths do you think I’d run into?”

“I’m just telling you what the books told me.” Hermione countered, and Hera flung up her hands.

“Books are not infallible!” Hera scolded, and began pacing in the room. “Books are information compiled together, and information is supposed to be impartial, I know, but books are written by people, and people tend to be stupid. They write opinions like they’re facts, and don’t bother correcting themselves.”

She stopped pacing, only to see that Hermione had drawn herself up in indignant fury.

“Let me guess, you think that everything you’ve read that hasn’t been in a fiction book is true even when they aren't citing their sources, don’t you.”

Hermione's face was red with anger by this point, but Hera didn't care.

“Look, Mate, We’re just trying to explain what it’s going to be like in school for you now that you’ve outed yourself as a parselmouth.”Ron tried. “People are going to talk, and it’s not going to be nice. Anything You-Know-Who can do is seen as evil, and now they’re gonna think you are too.”

“Do you know how ridiculous that is?” Hera asked, incredulously. “If Voldesnit used a Protego, would that be evil too?”

“Welcome to magical Britain, Mate.” Ron shrugged, not arguing the point.

“Hera, you have to promise you won’t use that again.” Hermione insisted.

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” Ron asked, looking at her incredulously, surprising Hera and Hermione both. “Charlie hasn’t stopped talking about her since he realized she could talk to dragons. There is a Dragon Reserve that would hire her on the spot because of that gift, and you want her to never use it again?”

Hermione drew herself up, scared and shaking in anger, and nodded sharply.

“It’s a foul evil gift, Hera.” Hermione insisted emphatically. “You must promise never to use it again.”

“I can’t make that promise.” Hera shook her head. “It’s not the gift that makes it evil, it’s how it’s used. I won’t deny a part of my magic just to make you feel better.”

Hermione looked ready to cry, but instead flounced out of the room.

“Don’t mind her, Hera. She’ll come ‘round.” Ron assured her. Hera nodded, though she wasn’t so sure. “Don’t get me wrong, I think talking to snakes is creepy, but evil might be pushing it.”

“You’re afraid of snakes, but not dragons?” Hera guessed.

Ron nodded, grimacing a little. “Snakes don’t bother me nearly as much as spiders do anyway. I told you about what the twins did, right?”

“Yeah.” Hera remembered. “How bad do you think this is gonna be? I room with two of the biggest gossip mongers in Gryffindor, and Hermione is in a mood.”

“Bad.” Ron admitted. “But I’ll be here if you need me. It’s not the same, where we don’t room together, but I’ll try.”

...

She gets ostracized by the school, like Ron and Hermione had warned her she would be. Her theatrics hadn’t helped much, even on top of the parseltongue ability, but there had been something oddly satisfying about making Draco choke on the sneer he’d sent her way. Slytherin is convinced she’s their Heir, whatever that means, and hate her appropriately; if only because she is in Gryffindor and not their own House. The rest of the school is convinced she’s a Dark witch that needs to be put down. Even her friends are wary of her now.

Colin tries, bless him, but he can’t do much more than make sure she’s okay when he passes her in the hall most days. Neville just gets nervous when he sees her, and refuses to look her in the eye when she speaks to him, stammering even more than usual, which had resulted in more explosions in Potions class. Ron sits by her in every class he can, glaring at anyone who would even think to talk bad about her. Ginny is in the same boat as Colin, but it’s nice that she tries. Hermione refuses to acknowledge that she exists until Hera denounces her ‘dark and evil’ gift, something Lavender and Parvati pounce on all too eagerly like sharks smelling blood in the water. The twins just think she’s awesome, but they give her space, like they think that’s what she needs.

It is during one of these moments of solitude, after finishing up her homework in the library, that she remembers the diary. It feels like how she remembers Quirrell did. T.M.Riddle. She remembers seeing that name in the trophy room, something about special services to the school. It doesn’t look like much, just a diary, but then why would Mr. Malfoy have placed it in Ginny’s cauldron if it were ordinary? Unable to think of anything else to try, she writes in it.

My name is Hera Potter

The ink sort of shines for a moment, and then disappears. She’s surprised with writing begins to appear again.

Hello, Hera Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?

Chapter Text

Last time... 

Unable to think of anything else to try, she writes in it.

My name is Hera Potter

The ink sort of shines for a moment, and then disappears. She’s surprised with writing begins to appear again.

Hello, Hera Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?

Chapter 10

It's slow going at first, because she wants to know how it's made, and it wants to know about her. It is cagey and witty, dodging her direct and indirect quandaries. Eventually, she starts writing in it about her home life with the Dursleys, even about the cupboard under the stairs being her room till her Hogwarts letter came. She writes about her discovering the wizarding world, and the discovery that she was famous for something she didn't even remember.

It was quite intrigued by that, and asked her for more information, not that she had any to share. She didn't know how she did it, being a baby and all, but she didn't glorify in it the way others did. Even the title they gave her was a reminder of what she would never have. The-Girl-Who-Lived was only a jab that her parents had not, that somehow it was her fault. She writes in it what she knows of Voldemort, how he had hidden within Quirrell for the whole school year with Dumbledore none the wiser.

Surprisingly, it reacts to her tears as well as it does to ink, asking what's wrong one day before she can even write in it. She tells it that she is being ostracized by the entire school, how they all think she is the Heir to Slytherin for being able to speak to snakes. She didn't see why they were making such a fuss. So she could talk to snakes. Personally, she thought it was brilliant. The diary expressed an interest in this gift of hers, and suggested she go to the girls bathroom on the second floor to speak to the snake on the sink.

...

"Hera?" Myrtle calls, seeing the girl walk into the bathroom a bit distracted. "Come in here to have a cry?"

Hera looks up from the book she'd been reading, eyes brimming with tears, and gives a small smile. "It is a good place for that, isn't it?"

"Just don't go near that sink." Myrtle agreed with a giggle. "I think what killed me came out of there."

"Actually…I think I'm supposed to go over there." Hera admitted. "The book says something about a secret passage."

There was a bit of hissing from Hera, and the sink opened up!

"Our little secret?" Hera asks, her eyes seeming to plead for her. "They're not talking to me, because I can speak to snakes, but that's what found this secret passage, and I don't think they deserve to know about it."

"They'll not hear of it from me." Myrtle promised. "Just remember whatever lives down there might have been what killed me. If you die, you're more than welcome to share my toilet."

"Thanks, Myrtle. That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all day." Hera chuckled, before sliding down the tunnel the sink had become.

...

There were skulls and bones everywhere, and the biggest shed snake's skin she'd ever seen. Grime was literally all over the place. This was going to take so many cleaning charms, and in the meantime she could think about what kind of snake even got that big. That snake skin was bloody huge! Pretty soon though she'd gotten focused on the cleaning part more than anything else, thankful that she'd learned those charms early.

She'd made great work of the hallway before the rather large door with four snakes on it. Deciding to focus on that, she began casting cleaning charm after cleaning charm. Though she hadn't noticed, she'd switched to speaking parseltongue as she cast the spells, which somehow cleaned even better because of it. So focused was she on her cleaning that she didn't notice the shadow that slowly crept up and covered her workspace. She only noticed it when the space was completely covered, and she froze, unable to think of what to do.

~You are cleaning my Salazar's Chamber?~

She hesitated, but slowly turned around, and had to look up. Somehow, instinctively she supposed, she knew what this was. This was a basilisk!…Oh…Oh shite…She should say something.

"You're beautiful."

Indeed, with shining silver like scales, the basilisk shone even in the darkness of the Chamber. One look at the eyes made Hera realize that Basilisks must also have a secondary set of eyelids, otherwise she would be dead or petrified by now. Hera knows that she should be afraid, that she should be running or something, but instead she slowly reaches out to touch the basilisk's scales. The basilisk closed its eyes as it basked in the warmth of voluntary touch the basilisk probably hadn't had in quite some time. Eventually, the basilisk's attention turned to the book Hera had dropped onto the floor.

~The book is attempting to drain you of life and magic, though you appear to be quite resilient to it. Will you allow me to rid you of it, Little Speaker?~

"I thought I was just a little tired. The book is draining me?…Yes, please." Hera replied. Best to be polite with the thing that can eat you. The basilisk started laughing, an odd hissing sound. "Oh dear, I said that last part out loud."

~That you did, Little Speaker, but it is sound advice all the same. Too bad the last person to speak with me did not take that advice. Instead they used me, took control of me, made me kill when they could have just asked~

Venom dripped onto the book, causing a small fire and an odd sputtering of ink as it gurgles from the pages. A pop, and Dobby appeared, looking torn between screaming in fear and elation.

"You has gotten rid of the plot, Harry Potter!" Dobby cried reverently.

~Do you want me to eat him?~

"No, it's okay. He means well." Hera replied, rubbing at the basilisk's scales. "So the book was part of the plot on my life?"

Dobby grimaced.

"You're Malfoy's house elf, aren't you?" She realized. "But then why are you wearing that pillow case? Malfoy senior seems like the vain sort."

"Tis the mark of enslavement, Harry Potter." Dobby replied, not denying her guess, but cringing like he wanted to say more.

"And you…You want to be free?" She guess again. He didn't look very happy.

"Oh, more than anything, but Dobby must be given clothes by his master. Giving clothes to a house elf is what is freeing them." Dobby explained, trying not to nervously stare at the basilisk.

"And does he periodically have you check on the book?" She guessed again. He froze, and started hitting himself in the head. "Dobby!"

She had to forcibly stop him.

"Why would you do that?!"

"House elves must punish themselves when disobeying or betraying their masters, Harry Potter." Dobby explained.

"Dobby, I have an idea. Would you like to work for me? If you were free, I mean. I could give you pay, and lodging, and days off…Maybe a uniform, if you want." Hera suggested. It was a good thing she still had a hold of him, because though his eyes beheld her with wonder, he began to try to hit himself again. "Dobby, you're simply doing your duty, checking on the book. You haven't disobeyed orders."

He slumped, and she let him go. Before he could grab the book though, she snatched it away. Doing a kind of odd jig, she managed to pull a sock off of one of her feet, and jammed it in between the pages of the book. Drain her magic indeed! Eat sock! Dobby had an odd look on his face when she handed the book back to him.

"You tell him you found the book like this. You won't even be lying." Hera proposed. "He throws that book at you or something, that's as good as giving you clothes, because there's a sock in it, right? If that works, you're free. You could do anything then, travel the world, work for yourself…anything. If you want, I'll hire you on. We'll even have the goblins go over a contract with us, if you want. The only thing I ask is that you come and find me, tell me how it went, so I don't worry."

"Harry Potter would worry about Dobby?" Dobby asked, close to tears.

"Of course, I would worry about you." Hera chided lightly. "You're one of my friends."

Before she knew it, she was being hugged fiercely, before he backed away and disappeared with a pop.

"Sorry about that. My name is Hera Potter." Hera said, introducing herself, looking back to the Basilisk.

~You are an odd one, Hera Potter. My name is Jör. I think I shall keep you, Little Speaker~

Hera had the distinct impression that Jör was laughing at her again.

Every day, she continued her self appointed task of cleaning up the Chamber of Secrets. It helps her find the other entrances, and Salazar's private study. Jör is fun to talk to, and likes that Hera asks after his health. He likes this little human who visits him, he says, much better than the last one. Hera can only assume he means Riddle, and wonders if Riddle had been possessed by Voldemort like Quirrell had been, or if he had been Voldemort himself. It's not like she can ask the book now.

As the days became weeks, Hera had forgotten her vigil against Lockhart, regulating him to useless fop in her mind. Perhaps she shouldn't have underestimated him. He seemed to watch her with a keen gaze, as if noting her every move. She's not sure what the hungry look is for, the predatory gaze she'd noticed at the beginning of the year is back, like he was mad with the hunger for power. It is only towards the end of the year that it gets worse, when she realizes just how much he has watched her, when he follows her straight into the girls bathroom.

"This is a girls loo, Professor. I would suggest leaving." Hera stated, on edge. There was something to his eyes that reminded her of Quirrell, not of possession but of madness, and she backs away slowly.

"I really must insist, Harry." Lockhart replied, taking a step further in, the door closing behind him. A quick locking spell follows after it, and she frowns as she wonders when he got good at spell work. "We could be great together, you know. The things we could achieve. Think of the fame it would bring us!"

"It's Hera, actually." Hera countered, taking a few more steps back. "I'm not sure what you're implying, but I think I'll pass, Professor."

"I know you know where the Chamber of Secrets is." Lockhart revealed, keeping the gap between them the same by taking steps forward when she would take one back, but she freezes at his revelation. "I was right, wasn't I! I heard the Slytherins talking about you being the Heir after you outed yourself as a parselmouth, and your friends talking about how you disappear so often."

"And that lead you to think I know where the Chamber of Secrets is?" Hera stalled. She'd come to visit with Myrtle, but was thankful that she wasn't there to see this right now. She tended not to use the pipe entrance if she could help it. "I hadn't even heard about it until they started talking all that Heir business."

He had his wand pointed at her throat before she could blink.

"You will take me to the Chamber of Secrets. Once there, you will be bound, and after you have been missing for a suitable amount of time, I will find you. In the meantime, anything could happen, and you won't even remember it. I'm a dab hand at the obliviation charm, you see." Lockhart explained, though his temperament was more manic than clinical. By this point, she'd backed up all the way to the sink that didn't work.

"You want to know where the Chamber of Secrets is?" Hera asked, hissing for it to open up behind her. She was poised to launch herself into it, foot on the edge. Quick as lightning, she reached out to grab Lockhart's robes before he could pull away. "So be it."

And with a hard push against the lid of the entrance with her foot, she pulled him stumbling in after her.

They landed with a hard thud, one of the reasons she'd made sure to find other entrances as soon as possible, but he didn't need to know there were any others. As soon as they'd landed he was up on his feet, but she was faster still, blocking a spell no doubt meant to rob her of her memory. He plays ineptitude well, but there's none of that here. He's actually a pretty good duelist when he's desperate and bloodthirsty, because it doesn't take long for him to disarm her. It's only when the man is about to cast his obliviate that she hears the rumbling of small overturning rocks.

~Speaker!~ Jör shouts worriedly. Lockhart doesn't even have time to scream.

"You know, I should be traumatized by the amount of times I've been the cause of someone's death. I'm up to three now, I think; only one of which I've actually orchestrated." Hera remarks dryly, as she dusts herself off. "Thank you for saving me."

~You mean that wasn't my gift for Yule?~ Jör asked, somehow managing to look innocent; as well as any basilisk could look innocent, she supposed. ~Come, I have something to show you!~

Hera followed after him, after gathering up her wand once more, and was lead to a door by one of Jör's favorite sleeping spots. Jör nodded for her to open it when Hera looked at him with a questioning gaze. In the room was what she'd seen in that mirror last year, at least in how it was decorated. Everything was a sort of champagne gold, with emerald green accents all over the place. It also had the most comfortable looking bed she'd ever seen.

~I asked Hogwarts to make it for you.~ Jör explained, as Hera wandered about the room. There was even a fake window to show the weather outside. ~I know you can not always stay with me, but you should be able to sleep safely in your nest.~

Too touched for words, Hera just leaned against Jör's snout and put her hand against the stones of Hogwarts. She had a feeling, from the pleasant warmth flowing into her hand, they understood.

Hera Potter was not sleeping in Gryffindor Tower; that much, Hermione knew. She hadn't seen much of her friend this year, not since the disaster that was the Dueling Club. The actual duel had been something to behold; the way Hera's spells left frozen patches where they were deflected, to the way she'd fearlessly held a king cobra as it struck out at Malfoy. Hermione had celebrated that her friend had a gift to talk to snakes, back when she realized Hera could talk to dragons, until she'd done her reading. No one else had thought the gift amazing, and Hermione watched in silence as her friend was ostracized for her magic, as she herself did the same simply by not standing with her friend when she should have.

Everything she read, everyone she talked to, told her that Parseltongue was a Dark gift. Hermione had yet to see any true evidence that Dark meant Evil, but everyone she talked to told her it was. So if Dark was evil, then it was to be frowned upon, right? No wonder everyone had acted that way! But Hermione thought back on the year and a half that they had been friends, and couldn't find anything dark or truly evil about Hera; signs of neglect and abuse, certainly, but not evil.

It wasn't until she got a gift from Hera, that she realized half the year had actually gone by, and she'd barely spoken to her friend. She'd ostracized one of her first friends. What kind of person did that make her? Resolving to be better in the future, she rushed to her Head of House in the hopes that she could help her out. Professor McGonagall was a bit exasperated with her for coming around so early in the morning, but the approval about why radiated from her as she helped Hermione sort out what to do for a gift for Hera.

Those at the Head Table that had been watching the drama unfold over the term breathed a heavy sigh of relief upon seeing the Golden Trio, as they had come to call them, talking to one another once more. It had been awful dealing with the Chamber of Secrets fallout, but when nothing had come of it, most of the students had awkwardly tried to go back to normal without resolving anything. The only problem with that was that Hera didn't seem to realize that, and kept on as she had been. Wherever it was the girl had holed herself up, it was good to see her with her friends once more, and several of the other students of various Houses that had had to stay for the holidays all came over to wish her well. It was strange to note that Gilderoy was not at the Head Table, though Minerva was guiltily thankful for the reprieve. They would later come to find that the man in question had disappeared. It seemed that the curse of the DADA position had struck early.

Chapter Text

Last time...

It was strange to note that Gilderoy was not at the Head Table, though Minerva was guiltily thankful for the reprieve. They would later come to find that the man in question had disappeared. It seemed that the curse of the DADA position had struck early.

Chapter 11

1993/3^rd year

Hera was thankful that she had stressed to Ron and Hermione that the Dursleys would not appreciate phone calls being made to their home. She could imagine Ron screaming into the phone, thinking that he had to shout to be heard, seeing as how they were so far away. Hermione understood, as her parents were muggles, but they couldn’t seem to get across how phones work to Ron. So she just stressed that letters were better, to arrive silently at night if at all possible. As luck would have it, she’d sent Hedwig off with letters for her friends the night before, because Vernon had decided he was going to ‘do something’ about all this ‘funny business’ being in his home.

After that stunt last summer, to which she assumed he was talking about the 'rescue' via invisible car by the Weasleys…not that he actually knew that part, he had called in a contractor to put bars on the windows; like the kind you see in prisons. There was also the nice little addition of a cat flap on her door. It was a good thing one of the prefects had explained (when they saw her struggling to maneuver the thing down the stairs) how the shrinking and expanding charm on her trunk worked with just a tap of her wand, and that she wouldn’t get in trouble for underage magic. The information had saved her this summer with homework. The Dursleys kept her locked up the whole summer, convinced that if they could keep her locked away, they could keep magic out of their lives.

The only times Uncle Vernon would ever let her out were when she had to do chores, or wash herself up. They actually fed her food through the cat flap, and if it hadn’t been for the Weasleys and Hermione sending her things that could fit through the bars, she would have starved in there. Hera thinks that’s one of the things Vernon hoped for, because he always seemed so disappointed when he saw her awake. She’d been trying to figure out how to escape her prison, if it had ever been a home, for weeks now. Hermione had been a fountain of information, and Ron kept suggesting things that involved magic; not that either were really helpful at the moment.

How was she supposed to freeze steel to the point it would shatter during the heat of summer? This was literally the hottest part of the year. Sure her magic ran cold, but…she couldn’t just pour magic into it could she? The Ministry looked for underage magic use via wand, but that wasn’t how they started using it. That could…could that really work?

Hera had vague memories of wishing for things, and then they were there. Conjuration? She could do that? If she could do that, could she make their lives as miserable as they were making hers? It was certainly worth thinking about, but for now she just wanted out of this house. Hera closed her eyes and concentrated. She wanted the bars to be so cold, that they just shattered on their own, but she may have overshot it. When she opened her eyes, everything was covered in a heavy frost.

Surprised that that had even worked, let alone to the extent that it had, she raced over to shatter the bars on the windows, when they just…came off at a touch. Chalking that one up to extreme frost damage, she wondered if the rest of the house was like that. She’d rather not climb out of the window if she could help it. The door opened at a touch, where she discovered the rest of the house was indeed just as frost covered as her room. Grabbing some food to put in her own beaded bag, Hera left the house quickly, only to be scared by a large black dog, though the whining clued her in to why it had zeroed in on her.

“I don’t have much to spare, I’m afraid, and very little time.” She whispered, as she pulled a bit of last nights roast out of the bag. “Here you go.”

The large black dog quickly ate it up, and kept following after her. She didn’t have the time to stop now, but maybe later she could give it more. It seemed content enough to follow her without food. As she walked, she thought about the things Ron and Hermione had told her. Ron had gone to Egypt, due to his dad winning a Ministry Lottery, and would be coming back to London soon. Hermione was in France, and apparently still hadn’t learned to be succinct with her essay writing, something the girl complained about at length oddly enough. Hera had had to learn, but that was because she was always afraid of being caught doing her homework by the Dursleys.

Looking around, she noted that Mrs. Figgs wasn’t in her usual spot at the window. Then again, given how late at night it was, the odd but kindly woman was probably asleep. Hera was never certain why she sensed magic coming from Figgs’ home, but the woman didn’t seem to have a speck of it in her; a later problem, Hera decided. It did remind her, however, that it was rather a long way to London and the Leaky Cauldron. Someone was bound to see her, and then place her right back with the Dursleys.

A stray piece of information from one of Ron’s letters came to the forefront of her mind. There was something a stranded witch or wizard could do when they were without transportation, and couldn’t apparate. Even though Hera was fairly certain she could apparate at will, Mrs. Weasley had insisted it was illegal to do so on purpose before a certain age, due to the danger to her magical core or something. Though Hera was sure that was a load of crap fed by the Ministry, she didn’t want to have to deal with them either. The Knight Bus was a service she could use, if she held out her wand hand, they would come and take her wherever she wanted to go.

She wasn’t really sure if the large black dog was of the magical sort, but it felt like it. So, wrapping one arm around it to keep it calm, she did as Ron had instructed. It was a good thing too, because she could hear Vernon bellow and Petunia shriek from here. The freak was gone again. It was a wonder the rest of Little Whinging didn’t know exactly what she was, and how that family treated her, what with the way those two noisily lost their wits like that. Right about the time Vernon was bellowing in outrage, signaling that he had discovered the window no longer had bars on it, both she and the dog were already on the bus and gone.

The Knight Bus was unlike anything she had ever seen, chaotic and amazing all at once. She loved it instantly, and set in one of the seats along the sides. There were beds in the back, but given how fast they were going, she didn’t think they would be there long. Shunpike promised as much, before handing her a newspaper. The large black dog had flattened himself against the floor, but upon seeing the newspaper, looked like he was trying to read it too.

No one on the bus gave a second glance to the dog, and their trip to the Leaky went off without a hitch. As it turns out, The Leaky Cauldron had rooms to rent, and she set it up with Tom so that she could stay there the rest of the summer. Gringotts was easy to work with, charging the expenses of the room to her Vault. Getting the stone back to Flamel before things could go wrong had placed him in her debt apparently, and Gringotts was grateful to keep one of their most valued customers with them. For the rest of the summer, Hera did as she pleased; doing her homework out in the open, wandering the alleys with a cloak so no one noticed her scar, getting Mr. Wiseacre to add some more compartments to her trunk (expanding the living quarters and adding gardening areas), visiting Muggle London for supplies, writing letters to her friends telling them that she was safe, and eating ice cream while watching the large black dog she called Grimm try to do the same.

Only once did someone enter her room. She had a split second warning thanks to Grimm, and before he could stand to defend her, she’d covered both of their bodies with the invisibility cloak. She was not expecting Minister Fudge to come stalking into her room, looking shifty and nervous. Tom explained to the man that she was safe here, in no danger from Sirius black, but Fudge was not convinced. The man cast a spell, something he must have hoped would reveal her presence to him were she in the room, but the invisibility cloak didn’t even budge.

When he was gone, the two huddled there for at least another hour, not that Grimm ever left his post by her side. She was too afraid someone else would come in, and she wouldn’t hear them in time. Eventually, she felt safe enough to reveal herself, sending a letter to Gringotts via vanishing box that she would need to retrieve some money for school shopping soon, but that she was worried about being spotted by Fudge before she could get there. Their response was to send the large sum she’d told them she’d wanted to withdraw through the vanishing box, and told her not to worry about it. They would take care of one of their most valued customers, knowing that the Minister was sniffing about; for a fee, of course.

The following week, the Weasley Matriarch was ecstatic to see her, along with the rest of the Weasley family, and Hermione. She’d already done her shopping, so she agreed to wander with them, as long as they let her buy Ron’s new wand. The only reason why she won that argument was by virtue of the fact that she had forgotten his birthday, and didn’t feel right not getting him a gift. Grimm did not like Scabbers at all, something that pinged for Hera, and perhaps that particular later problem was becoming very much a ‘now’ problem.

“Ron.” She wondered while Hermione went in search of a familiar of her own in the Magical Menagerie. “How long have you had Scabbers? He’s not magical, is he?”

“Been in the family for twelve years now.” Ron shrugged, patting his pocket where Scabbers rested. “Percy gave him to me. He’s not magical or nuthin.”

“Ron, common rats live for three years tops.” Hera stated calmly, then looked to Arthur. “Mr. Weasley, is there a way to reveal if a wizard is hiding as an animal or something?”

That’s how they find themselves in the store with a scared wizarding public, one rat man named Peter Pettigrew; Grimm had disappeared shortly before, but that was a later problem. The Minister, having been called, was beside himself, because this meant that Sirius Black was innocent. She wasn’t sure who that was exactly, though she soon finds out that he is her godfather, and there had been no trial for him; which was highly illegal. Susan Bones happened to be there as well with her aunt, who was more than thrilled to look into this, considering that was her job. The whole day ended with Hermione getting her own familiar, a rather large squishy faced half kneazle, and Ron with an overly excited owl that was so tiny no one was sure it could actually carry mail. Everyone ended up at the Three Broomsticks that night, trading stories over dinner, and the next morning they were off to Kings Cross.

“It’s too bad Grimm ran off.” Ron remarked, once they were all on the train.

“I have a feeling he’ll find me at Hogwarts.” Hera shrugged. “Sorry about Scabbers…again.”

“Do you think it’s true about Sirius Black? If he’s innocent, you could leave the Dursleys.” Ron mused.

Hera shook her head. “He’s been in Azkaban for at least a decade. He’ll have to get his mind right first. At least he’ll actually get a trial this time, if he shows up for it. Not sure I would bother.”

The two chattered on, Hermione listening as she read her latest book. A raggedy looking man slept in the corner seat of the car, with the case stamped with R. J. Lupin next to him. They left him alone, figuring he needed the sleep. Everything was fine till the train started slowing down. It was nowhere near time to arrive, so even Hermione was looking around as if trying to figure it out before there were answers. Hera noted how cold it was becoming only when Hermione and Ron started shivering. Even her own breath began to show with the cold, and she had a bad feeling about this.

“Move towards the window, and keep your wands handy.” Hera whispered in a tone that brokered no argument, seeing a figure reach towards the door to their car. “Now.”

The two moved, shuffling towards the window without getting up, and just in time too. An eerie skeletal figure, mostly hidden beneath a cloak, floated into the room. No one had raised their wands yet, and somehow the sleeping man remained just so. The floating figure stared at Hera before moving towards Ron and Hermione. No one was expecting Hera to reach out with Seeker reflexes to stop the creature from reaching for them, not even the suddenly-no-longer-sleeping man behind her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She demanded angrily, her own magic forcing the creature’s frost to travel up its own arm. It looked…shaken somehow, because of that, though Hera could not see its face. “I suggest you leave this car, and get off of this train. You aren’t supposed to be here.”

~We seek Sirius Black~ The creature sent to her mind ~We guard Azkaban~

“Sirius Black was never meant to be in your care, as he did not receive a trial, and is therefore no longer your responsibility.” Hera snapped. “Who sent you?”

~Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge under the order of Minister Cornelius Fudge~ The creature answered. ~We are to guard the school~

“This is not the school, it’s the train.” Hera scowled. “I would ask that you keep a respectable distance from the other students. My friends appear susceptible to your chill, so I assume the others will be as well.”

The creature nodded, and Hera let go. Within moments, it was gone. She turned to check on her friends first, and other than the cold shivers, they seemed no worse for wear. Ron whimpered a bit, but Hermione made the effort of a tiny smile through clattering teeth. The no-longer-sleeping man was staring at her as if he had never seen anything like her.

“What? It was about to attack my friends.” Hera huffed after a while.

“It seems your father named you well.” The man replied, with a kind smile. “You truly are your mother’s daughter.”

Hermione gasped. “Hera, your hand!”

Indeed, the inside of Hera’s hand was blue where it had touched the creature. It was slowly turning back to normal, however, and that was what mattered.

“It’s fine, Hermione. See? It’s already turning back. Maybe it’s a reaction to the extreme cold.” She assured her friend. “I mean, are there even studies about the effects of touching one of those things?”

“You aren’t shaking like us, Mate.” Ron objected rationally, which was surprising considering how freaked out he’d been a moment ago.

“I’m used to the cold.” Hera shrugs nonchalantly. “You forget who I live with.”

“Oh good, you see them too.” A dreamy voice sighed, standing just a ways away from her. “Hello, I’m Luna Lovegood.”

“Hera Potter. We met briefly at Sir Nicholas’ Death day party last year, but we didn’t get to talk much, I don’t think.” She replied, reaching out to accept the proffered hand, causing the girl to grin widely. Students were boarding the carriages, but no one seemed to see the odd skeletal horses. “What are they? Why can I see them, but the others can’t?”

“What are you talking about, Hera? There’s nothing there. The carriages pull themselves, like always.” Hermione objected dismissively.

“They’re called Thestrals, and can only be seen by those who have seen death.” The girl replied with a dreamy smile, as if Hermione had not spoken. “You can read about them in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. I suspect that the reason your friends can’t see them is because they have not seen death, not like you.”

“I had to kill our first year DADA professor. Turns out the guy was possessed, and had a manifestation of Voldesnort on the back of his head.” Hera admitted. “Ron and Hermione weren’t there for that last bit, but I didn’t see them last year…Maybe I hadn’t fully processed it till now.”

It could have something to do with the fact that she’d handed Lockhart to Jör on a silver platter, but she wasn’t going to mention that.

“My mother died in front of me, an experiment gone wrong.” Luna continued. “She was a brilliant witch, but there was a mistake in her formula, and she didn’t catch it in time. I shouldn’t have been in there, but I’d wanted to show her something, and then…well…”

“You wanna ride with us?” Hera asked earnestly.

“Wut?” Ron whined petulantly. “Not Loony Lovegood.”

“Shut it, Ron. I’ve offered. It’s her choice, not yours.” Hera snapped crossly at him.

“I’ve never had someone defend me before. It’s quite nice.” The young blonde marveled, in what Hera was quickly coming to realize was her normal self, dreamy and easy going. “You must have Moon Frogs visit you in your sleep.”

“Might explain the glitter in my hair some mornings. I have no idea how it gets there otherwise.” Hera found herself replying easily. Hermione was going to object to something, but thought better of it. Hera suspected it was because she’d not heard of Thestrals before, and wouldn’t believe they existed until she knew absolutely everything about them; or it could be the moon frogs. “I like your turnip earrings. Did you make those?”

“I can teach you to make your own, if you like.” Luna offered, happily.

“Really?” Hera asked, excitedly. Luna nodded. “Wicked!”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“I like your turnip earrings. Did you make those?”

“I can teach you to make your own, if you like.” Luna offered, happily.

“Really?” Hera asked, excitedly. Luna nodded. “Wicked!”

Chapter 12

By the time that everyone was sorted, it had made the rounds that Hera had grabbed hold of a Dementor. Most surprisingly, she didn’t glare at her friends first when she heard it. She glared at Lupin, and only upon seeing his hands raised in surrender did she glare at Ron, who was down the ways from her. The boy didn’t even realize he was in trouble, even though he was currently talking about the thing she hadn’t wanted anyone to make a big deal of, until Neville pointed it out to him. The boy paled upon seeing that she was angry at him, looking sort of molted and confused. Hera just rolled her eyes, and went back to her food; if Ron didn’t realize why she was mad at him, he deserved everything he was gonna get. Maybe she would consult with his brothers for ideas.

The next day, while Ron was wondering at Hermione’s schedule, Hera secretly grinned. She was just glad he hadn’t seen her schedule too. Hermione wasn’t the only one attempting this, and the two had had to swear not to misuse the chance. The two girls had decided not to team up to tackle the time together, as they would drive each other insane trying to deal with the others ways of doing things. Excited for Hagrid’s first class, which would explain the biting book, Hera looked forward to seeing what he would do; even as they hoofed it all the way to the Divination tower.

Hera internally chuckled with unholy glee when they got to Divination. As soon as she saw Hermione’s eye twitch, she knew. Divination tapped into a part of the mind Hermione didn’t really grasp, which was strange considering she was a witch and all. Divination tapped into instinct, gut feelings, imagination, and belief. The Norns spoke through the weave to those open enough to hear them, and Hermione depended on things she could verify through hard facts, perhaps even more viciously because of what happened last year. It had come out that Lockhart had stolen all those stories from others, and embellished them beyond belief; though whether the spell was broken by his death or some other means, no one knew. Hermione would not be open enough to hear the Norns, should they try speaking to her.

“Professor.” Hera called, after Professor Trelawney was through detailing the years schedule for them. “What about loom weaving? Will we be covering that this year?”

“Loom weaving to portray the future before it unfolds has been out of mainstream practice for a number of years now, Miss Potter, but should you be interested, we can see about a side project for you.” Professor Trelawney explained, looking pleasantly surprised. “5 points to Gryffindor for your foresight, and research into the subject.”

The more Hera talked with the professor, even through the disaster of a tea reading from Ron, the more scandalized Hermione began to look. Here was a subject Hera was more vocal on, one that Hermione had instantly dismissed as woolly nonsense before they'd even gotten to class, and Hera could see the girl already warring with her desire to be taken seriously verses her desire to be the best at everything. What made it worse was Hera didn’t sound vapid about it the way Lavender did. The more questions she asked, the more Trelawney took her seriously, and when the woman predicted her death, Hera just shrugged. She nearly almost died at least three times a year, and that was before she’d even started going to school at Hogwarts.

Hera made sure to keep Hermione from becoming mutinous over the subject though. She wasn’t so good with numbers and probabilities, but could see how that would appeal to Hermione’s love of order. Once Hermione realized the two subject stemmed from the same thing, just different takes of it, it went better. She agreed to help Hera with the math of Arithmancy, and Hera agreed to help Hermione with learning to listen to her magic. The core of Divination at this level was mostly instincts and listening to what a person’s magic told them, to love the wonder of it, but the prep-work would serve their later classes well; even Potions.

Hagrid’s first class the next day actually went well…sort of. No one had been able to stop their books from trying to eat them, not even Hera, so no one had been able to read them. They’d all been bound, and Hagrid had looked crestfallen upon realizing no one had figured out how to open them. In hindsight, it was funny, but it wasn’t something he should have attempted without a warning. The man simply didn’t perceive danger in the same way as the rest of them.

The hippogriffs were beautiful, with the hindquarters of a horse, and the head and wings of a giant eagle; the front legs even had talons! Hagrid went over how to take care when dealing with them, that they offended easily; something Malfoy should have paid attention to, but didn’t. There was no way Hera was going to miss out on a chance to fly. Buckbeak was gorgeous! So she went through the steps; intent stare, low and regal bow, and waited. The flight itself, indescribable, the most freedom she’d ever felt when not flying on her own broom, and over far too soon.

It happened in a flash. Malfoy had taken over Buckbeak, who had bowed to him, but the creature reacted badly to the condescension coming out of the boy’s mouth. Hera wasn’t even aware she’d done it, vaulting towards Malfoy before he could even finish his sentence, grabbing him by the back of the collar, and jerking the idiot boy back just in time for it to slam down its talon to catch at her left arm which was raised in an effort to shield them from the blow. Everyone was still in a state of shock when she made a fist with her other hand, and socked that hippogriff in the face. What was more surprising was that the force of it actually caused Buckbeak to take a step or two back in disorientation.

“No!” Hera growled, pointing at Buckbeak when he made to charge again, causing the creature to pause. “You are a proud and noble beast! This is not how you are supposed to behave!”

His chirpy response even sounded indignant.

“Of course he insulted you! He’s an idiot! You know better!” She snapped angrily. “Now get back to your paddock, and think about what you just did!”

Petulantly, Buckbeak did as ordered, glaring at Malfoy every so often as he went.

“Uh,…Hera?” Ron murmured hesitantly.

“Yes, Ron?” Hera asked, looking over to her friend who was slowly making his way over to her like she was some kind of wounded animal.

“We might want to…go to Madam Pomfrey,…now that you’re through……telling off a hippogriff,…you know…” He trailed off, looking a bit pale, gesturing to her vaguely. “…to see about your arm.”

She looked down at said arm, and realized he was right. It was bleeding all over the place. How had she not felt that? Shock? Hagrid looked beside himself, more pale than she’d ever seen him, and it suddenly dawns on her what she’d just done. Oh dear, she’d punched a hippogriff! Malfoy was staring at her with wide eyes from his strewn position on the ground, his hair and clothes all askew, but he wasn’t the only one staring. The entire class was staring at her in shock. She numbly went back to looking at her arm.

“Huh.” She murmured, and then started snickering. “Hey, Ron…Ron…Who wants to tell Professor McGonagall I punched a hippogriff in the face?!”

“Le’s get yeh inside, Hera. Goin’ inter shock, yeh are.” Hagrid insisted, gently, after seeing that the other hippogriffs had followed after Buckbeak. “Malfoy owes yeh a life debt fer tha’, I suspect. Magic’ll know. Come along now. Class dismissed!”

“Hermione?” Hera inquired, as she looked to her friend. “My things?…class?”

“I’ll handle it.” Hermione promised.

“Oh…good…” Hera nodded, and then promptly passed out.

Even after hearing about the incident with the Dementor on the train, none of the professors were prepared to see Hagrid carrying Hera Potter into the school with a bleeding arm. She looked so small, but Hagrid was looking at her with a mixture of concern and hero worship. It was expected, of course, that Hagrid take her to the infirmary. The professors watched on in shock, and it isn’t until the man is gone that they can even think to move. Some of the students from the class are trailing in at this point, and Minerva makes to stop one of them.

“Mr. Weasley, would you mind explaining to me what happened to Miss Potter?” She asked, with as much professionalism as she could muster to mask her worry.
“Oh, nuthin much, Professor.” The boy replied absentmindedly, his eyes tracking Hagrid more than he was paying attention to her. “She just rescued Malfoy by punch’n a hippogriff in the face.”

“Oh.” Minerva managed to get out. “Is that all?”

The boy nodded, and then made for his next class. No doubt he would be visiting the infirmary before too long. Despite how quick to anger he was, and his talking about things his friends wanted to keep quiet, the boy was a good friend. Minerva took a bracing breath, and went to impart what she’d learned with the others. Apparently, it was going to be that kind of year.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had a problem; Hera Potter. She had always defied expectations, he knew. The day he’d held her in his arms, he’d known she’d survived a killing curse, defying the odds, and becoming the key needed to defeat Voldemort; knew what that meant for her once she was grown, what with the prophecy and all, never mind that pesky pronoun business. When he placed her with the Dursleys to strengthen the blood wards that had been born of Lily’s sacrifice, he’d known what he was leaving her to, knew that she would not know the love of family there. He’d expected her to return to the wizarding world a broken little thing, but she’d had a strength in her eyes he wasn’t even sure he himself possessed.

She’d ruined his well thought out trap that first year, breaking the mirror, and returning the stone to Nicolas. He still didn’t know what she saw, as the girl was a natural-born occlumens, a gift that was so rare it was practically unheard of. Quirrell still went through the obstacles, thinking the stone was on the other side. Though Albus had cautioned Nicolas that this was a sign the stone needed to be destroyed, he was told off with a simple ‘Keep your hands to your own unmentionables, Albus’, and that was that. Rewarding the girl and her friends for their efforts had backfired, not just with her, but with the House he’d tried to take the Cup from as well.

Her second year had seen the introduction of Lockhart, a decision no one on his staff had agreed with. He’d been attempting to rid the DADA position of the curse for years, but so far his attempts had ended in failure. Involving Curse Breakers meant involving Gringotts and the Ministry, and his own stubborn pride refused to yield to that. The curse seemed to be getting more tenacious, what with Lockhart vanishing halfway through the year, though Albus still wasn’t sure how. It had certainly made it hard to find teachers, knowing that the position might kill them or make them disappear to parts unknown.

Finding out that Pettigrew was alive, having been living as a rat in the Weasley family for over a decade, had been quite the shock. Finding out that this made Sirius Black innocent threw a wrench in his already well laid plans; while he hadn’t pushed to put the man into Azkaban, he’d certainly not objected to the lack of an actual trial either. He needed Hera to stay with the Dursleys, weak though the blood wards still were; which was a source of consternation, now that he thought about it. They really should be stronger by now. Surely it was only proximity that the wards needed and not actual emotional bonds, or had he miscalculated?

If Black was cleared officially, and allowed to take custody of Hera, his control over her would be gone. She was already headstrong, and if she was shown what a loving family could be like, he’d lose her for good. A child that had known love all their lives might not sacrifice themselves, too willing to cling to the love they’d always known. A child that had known neglect and pain would, upon finding a love to fight for, give up everything to save it. He needed her to trust him, to love him, so that when the time came to sacrifice herself, she wouldn’t hesitate.

It’s why he’d allowed Dolores to station Dementors along the school grounds, even knowing Black was innocent, hoping that Hera would fear what she did not know. He should have realized by now that that wasn’t how things were going to work out; because she didn’t trust him, didn’t love him, and only treating him with the respect due his station as the Headmaster of the school she attended. He had not taken much time to speak with her, as he realized now that he should have. She would not feel the loyalty her parents had for him. She had nothing to base it on.

The stories of how she’d grabbed a Dementor to stop it from going after her friends were too wild to be believed. He realized when she’d been carried in gently by Hagrid, blood dripping everywhere, that he should have given them more credence. Minerva had come back with yet another impossible to be believed story, but the proof of it had been dripping all over the floor. Hera had punched a hippogriff in the face to save a Malfoy. Now Hera stood before him in barely suppressed fury, her arm still in a wrap, as he tells her she can not go to Hogsmeade due to the danger the situation with Black and the Dementors presented.

“I am afraid that, as your magical guardian, I can not allow it.” Albus had stated, exuding grandfatherly concern. Her entire body stilled at his words, which was the only warning he got, and one he ignored without a thought to recognizing it for what it was.

“You declare it then? Officially? In front of witnesses?” She asked suddenly. He really should have asked what she’d meant by that. Of course, her Head of House would be here, though Severus was as well.

“Of course!” Albus insisted benignly.

At that moment, a single folded bit of parchment appeared before his eyes, gently floating down till it landed on his desk, which he picked up hesitantly. It was a summons, to answer charges being brought against him by Gringotts; dereliction of duty and breach of contract, quite serious offenses in the Wizarding World. He looked from the parchment to Hera, and back again. Perhaps, he mused, James had named his daughter a little too well. It seems her trips to Gringotts had been far more informative than he would have liked, and now he had another problem. As her magical guardian, it should have been his responsibility to educate her on her magical heritage and duties as Heiress Potter, and he had passed that off in favor of the Greater Good. It was going to take quite a lot of fancy footwork to get out of this.

“If that will be all, Professor, I’ll see myself out.” Hera remarked, and promptly turned a heel and walked out of the office.

Remus Lupin had been trying to talk to Hera all of term with little success. It bothered him that the child of his best friend would shy away from him, but then again it wasn’t as if she knew him. He’d stayed away, ashamed that he’d not been there when it mattered. When one of her friends, a Miss Hermione Granger, explained that Gilderoy Lockhart had tried to use any excuse he could to use Hera for her fame, and Quirrell had tried to kill her outright at the end of her first year…well, it certainly explained a lot. He still didn’t know what to think about the incident with the Dementors, or the fact that she had punched a hippogriff in the face; James would be laughing, rolling around in his grave like a hyena, if he knew.

That she had somehow managed to clear Sirius Black while revealing that Peter Pettigrew was still alive, astounded him. She was smart, and fiercely loyal to her friends; Lily would be so proud. However, she seemed slightly…apart…even from her friends, something else that had been explained to him. The school had ostracized her for an ability to speak parseltongue, and she hadn’t taken it well. According to Miss Granger, Hera was still coming to terms with what she felt was a betrayal. After all, finding out that your newfound friends can turn on you so easily must have been quite the shock.

“Miss Potter, I am glad you finally decided to speak with me.” Lupin stated, upon seeing her hesitate in the doorway. “Please, have a seat. Do you know why I’ve been trying to talk with you?”

“First professor wanted to kill me, second wanted to use me to boost his fame.” Hera admitted sheepishly, after she’d sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “I just assumed you would be along the same vain. Sorry, Professor.”

“I knew your parents in school. We were the best of friends then.” Professor Lupin revealed, expecting an eager child hoping to hear more about her parents. Instead, he got a cold blank stare.

“Oh. You’re one of those.” Hera drawled coolly, sounding like a damn close impression of Severus. She didn’t know that the man himself had stepped in not long after she had sat down, or that the man was now arching his eyebrows so high in shock that they had both disappeared into his hair. “Pity. Out of all of my mother and father’s closest friends, not one of them thought to check up on me at the Dursleys. If they were such. Good. Friends. of my mother, surely they would know what her sister is like. But you show up here, after more than a decade of my life has gone, and expect me to be all smiles and eager for stories? I think I shall pass, Professor. Thank you, but no thank you.”

She was gone with barely a word to the professor that had followed her in, just a nod, and a mumbled. “Professor.” as she passed.

Because Hera made it a point to visit the Dementors when she could, they did not take to swarming the Quidditch pitch whenever there was a game. They lost this last match though, and she knew she should not have played with her arm still in a wrap, what with Madam Pomfrey fussing at her. Oliver was beside himself with grief and thoughts of more Quidditch practice, while Diggory had complimented her flying. Halloween passed with barely a notice, and Christmas was closing in fast. She’d gone to Hogsmeade with her friends, despite Dumbledore’s protests or Professor McGonagall's taking of House Points, and had completely forgotten that she was having a stalker problem…until two arms draped themselves across her shoulders from opposite sides.

“Gred, Forge, how lovely to see you.” Hera remarked airily, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Isn’t this just darling?”

“They grow up so fast, don’t they, Gred?” Fred asked, looking to George.

“They do indeed, Forge.” George replied, grinning down at her now, before his expression turned more serious. “You’ve been disappearing a lot, Hera.”

“We didn’t say anything last year, because you needed an escape.” Fred continued.

“But you’ve continued this year, and we’re concerned.” George admitted before she could get angry.

“That’s why you’ve been following me?” Hera realized, looking to the two of them. “You’re worried? About me?”

“Yes, worried. About you.” Fred snorted.

“What kind of question is that?” George asked, grasping at his chest dramatically.

“It’s like she doesn’t love us!” Fred exclaimed, throwing a hand over his eyes.

“Alright, you two, what gives?” Hera snorted at their antics.

In an old abandoned classroom, they explain the Marauder’s Map. Use the correct phrase, and you can track anyone in the school. It’s a brilliant piece of tracking magic, Hera has to admit, but privacy is paramount to her. She’s only mollified by the fact that they haven’t bullied anyone with this, just used it to get around curfew patrols and things. They’d been keeping an eye on her last year because they’d been worried she would do something harmful to herself, and when she kept disappearing, they’d thought the worst each time. No wonder they had taken to stalking her.

“Look, I’m not sure I can tell you where I’ve been going. It’s kind of a secret.” She replied pointedly.

If they didn’t take the hint, they weren’t as smart as she believed them to be. The way their eyes lit up at the same time told her they’d gotten the message. They didn’t ask to see the place, and she didn’t think she was ready to share it yet, but they felt better about knowing where she was going now. Neither Fred nor George had ever made fun of her or ostracized her for being able to speak to snakes. Maybe she would talk about it with Jör, see what he thought.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

“Potter.” Draco called, stopping the young witch about to head into the Great Hall. “A word?”

Potter paused for a moment, and then replied. “Potatoes.” before promptly swanning off into the Great Hall anyway.

Red faced with embarrassment and confusion, it took Draco more time than it should have to realize that Potter had given him exactly what he’d asked for; a word. Potter was not supposed to be clever, or witty, or even funny. She was supposed to be a stupid bloody Gryffindor, never mind that strangeness that was First-Year, or that duel he’d barely managed to keep up with her on in Second Year; only it was that stupid bloody Gryffindor instinct that he owed a Life Debt too now. Despite what his father might think, he knew Potter was powerful, and it was that power he needed to ally his family with. After all, if Potter was powerful enough that a burst of accidental magic had boosted her strength to the point she could punch a bloody Hippogriff in the face, how powerful could she be if she intentionally focused that?

“Potter.” He tried again, following her out of the Great Hall after supper. She had the great ginger oaf and the sentient hairball with her. “I would like to speak with you…alone, if I may.”

“If you’re sure. I would suggest a couple of lookouts though.” Potter shrugged. “My friends are notoriously nosy, and highly protective of me.”

“Oi!” Weasley objected, but Granger just shrugged with a “She’s not wrong.”

“I’ll have Blaise and Theo stand at either side of the third floor corridor. No one goes there now, so we won’t be bothered.” Draco agreed, surprised at Potter’s assessment of her friends. “Meet me there in twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes later, and he had everything set up. Both Blaise and Theo had chess sets with them in case they encountered Weasley, and a copy of Hogwarts a History to debate over if they encountered Granger. There were privacy wards he knew how to set up, thanks to his godfather, and all he needed now was to talk to Potter. Uncle Severus had explained what it was like to live under a Life Debt for long periods of time, that it took a toll on ones magic, and that it was not something Draco should attempt at such a young age. It was best to get out of it as quickly as he could. The only thing he did not know was what Potter wanted.

“Got here as quickly as I could.” Potter called, as she met him in front of the door that had housed a Cerberus she called ‘Fluffy’. Apparently she’d spent most of first year with a Cerberus she insisted was a ‘cuddle monger’, and he wasn’t sure whether or not to believe her, but after watching her punch a bloody hippogriph…well, let’s just say he was rethinking that now.

“What do you want, Potter?” He demanded outright. He had assumed she would appreciate a straightforward approach, but here she just looked confused. “You are aware that I owe you a life debt, yes? My father is a barrister, and he said if you don’t-”

“Your father is a barrister?” Potter perked up, suddenly interested. “If I ask him to defend my godfather for me, will that count as you fulfilling the life debt?”

“No, but it will if I ask him to do it.” Draco pointed out. “You would use the life debt I owe you to save someone else?”

“If it makes you feel better, it’s partially selfish.” Potter admitted. “If Sirius gets his name cleared, and gets the okay from mind healers, I get to live with him instead of the Dursleys. Even if he only gets his name cleared, and doesn’t get the okay from the mind healers, I might still get to visit, and even that’s better than nothing.”

“I’ll strong arm Father into coming for the next Hogsmeade weekend. It’ll be easier when I tell him this is what you wanted to settle the life debt.” Draco replied, a bit flummoxed that Potter would want to get away from her muggle family, not that he showed that, forgetting that she’d called them magic hating at the end of First Year. “Just be sure that you bring your godfather.”

“To the first meeting?” Potter asked, doubtful, but Draco didn’t have to press. “I want Sirius cleared so that he can take care of me, but I haven’t even met him yet. He won’t have his head on right at that first meeting. I’ll have to tell your father why I want to live with Sirius, in detail, and if Sirius hears that when he’s not mentally sound…well, maybe he’ll earn that Azkaban sentence.”

“He’ll need to be there.” Draco confirmed.

Potter took a bracing breath, and nodded. “I’ll find a way to tell him.”

“You do that, Potter, and tell your friends to stop trying to get around mine.” Draco cracked with a snort, pointing towards Weasley who had just trounced Blaise in wizarding chess, and Granger who hadn’t even batted an eye when she tried to hit Theo in the face with his own book for misquoting a section. Potter just grinned like a loon, and proceeded to fetch her friends.

Christmas was upon them before too long, but this year was different. She’d stayed in her dorm room that night, having spent time with Jör the night before. Hermione had been a godsend this year, because even though they didn’t help each other keep track of their time, they did help each other work through homework, and each whittled the other about eating and sleeping enough. Hera spent most of her free time going through the things in the Chamber of Secrets; there was still stuff she was discovering down there. Her current mystery was trying to figure out the blank book that she was fairly certain had been bound in human skin; and why she thought that, she had no bloody idea; but while the material the book was bound in was disturbing, the magic wrapped up in it was fascinating.

“Psst…Hera…Hera, are you awake?” She hears, and groans an affirmative. She wasn’t quite awake enough to be considered human. Grunts and groans as a form of communication would have to do. “I wouldn’t wake you, but it’s just…well…one of your gifts is…um…floating.”

That woke her up.

“If it’s what I think it is, Ron’s gonna murder me.” Hera groaned, rolling over and reaching for the package.

“Won’t you need your glasses, Hera?” Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Hermione, if you haven’t figured out that I don’t actually need my glasses by now, I would be worried about you.” Hera replied pointedly, before breaking out into a grin.

“How very Slytherin of you, Hera.” Hermione commented cheekily, before grabbing one of her own gifts.

“Same as you.” Hera replied, raising up the previously floating package as if to toast her.

It was their shared secret, one of the things that truly bonded them as friends, that the Sorting Hat had wanted to place them both in Slytherin. At least, Hera liked to think it was. When Hermione had gotten up the nerve to talk to her alone, she’d explained that she should have been sorted into that House, but had been too afraid of what would happen to her after everything she’d read about them. It’s why she reacted so strongly to what Hera had done, because the snake was a sign of the House, and she didn’t want her friend to turn evil. Her great love of books had lead her wrong here, having forgotten that snakes were also in the symbol for healing, in her fervent desire to save her friend.

“What do you tell people when they notice you doing something not Gryffindorish enough?” Hera asked, after a moment’s pause.

“Ravenclaw.” Hermione admitted, which made sense. “You?”

“…Hufflepuff.” Hera stated with a straight face, at least before she made eye contact with her friend, before they both descended into laughter. “What? They wouldn’t believe I’m smart enough for Ravenclaw, and the Hufflepuffs love me after that whole thing at the end of First Year!”

“Think we’ll ever tell them the truth?” Hermione pondered, and Hera paused; having been about to open her gift as well.

Hera’s face broke out with the biggest grin it could, as she replied. “Maybe, but not today.”

“Ron, I know you complain about hand-me-downs and whatnot, but does that count with friends gifting you their used stuff?” Hera asked cautiously, peeping into the boys dorm.

“Dunno. Reckon not.” Ron shrugged; which meant yes, but he didn’t want to say anything that would make him sound ungrateful.

“It’s just, I think Sirius is trying to buy my love, so he got me some kind of sleek new broom, and-” Hera couldn’t help herself, proceeding to bolt into the room, and hand him her old broom. “I want you to have my Nimbus.”

The boy looked like he’d turned to stone for a second. Hera wasn’t even sure he was breathing, but the longer he didn’t react, the more nervous she got, and then she started rambling.

“I know it’s not the newest model or anything, but it doesn’t have any scratches on it, and I’ve taken really good care of it. I’m pretty sure you could try out for reserve Keeper if you want, which would be awesome, and we’d get to be on a team together, and-” Hera only stopped rambling because Ron had literally covered her face with his hand, splaying out his fingers so she could at least see.

“Hera, are you seriously giving me your Nimbus for Christmas?” Ron asked, in a tone of seriousness that he rarely used. Unable to help herself, she stuck her tongue out. “Hera!”

“Well I don’t know how you expected me to answer you like that.” Hera remarked cheekily, before holding out her broom again. “Merry Christmas!”

She was suddenly enveloped in a hug, and since Ron was taller than her, her face was smashed against his chest making her unable to breathe.

“Tell me we can go flying after this?” Ron asked, and she nodded; unable to do anything else. “Will Hermione be worrying in the stands?”

“What do you take me for?” Hermione asked with a snort, having been standing in the doorway. “Of course, I’ll be worrying in the stands.”

Hera was worried that Ron would let his envious streak shine through, but she needn’t have. They took turns with the Firebolt and the Nimbus each, worrying Hermione with equal abandon. By the time that they were ready for dinner, Ron was giving her the rundown on everything he knew about the Firebolt and its capabilities, and Hermione was offering to look up if there were any special instructions for its care. It was over dinner that night that she got written confirmation from Sirius that he was the large black dog that she’d named Grimm, but she’d already suspected such was the case before that. She shared the news with Hermione and Ron, and the three looked forward for what this could mean for her.

The beginning of next term was pretty uneventful. The team celebrated the new broom, and the possibility of Ron trying out for reserve Keeper next year. Professor Lupin asked to meet with her again, and apologized for his lack of time in her life. He was ashamed of the illness he had, and hadn’t wanted to be a burden on her. She hadn’t been able to begrudge him that, as she didn’t want to be a burden on others either. It wasn’t like she hadn’t noticed how many absences he’d had this year, and Professor Snape had obviously assigned that essay to out the man, which was a dick move; though only Hermione seemed to suspect what Lupin was.

“Hera, I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I’ve invited someone here to meet you.” Professor Lupin alerted her, right before the man who must be Sirius Black stepped out from behind the corner.

She could tell that even though he’d cleaned up a bit, he was still recovering from his stay in prison. His skin was sunken almost, like he was just getting used to food again. His dark hair hung limply, having been stripped of any life it had once had. His eyes were haunted, but he looked at her like she was the only star in the night sky. Tears rimmed his eyes, but he took a steadying breath as the two continued to stare at each other.

“Saw your game today, kid, you were great.” Sirius began, a bit nervously. She hadn’t reacted to him, frozen in the swirling emotions that were running through her. “We’ve missed a lot of time, you and I.”

Ah, and there it was; anger.

“Gee, I wonder who’s fault that was.” Hera drawled, completely unimpressed with him in her barely suppressed rage, shocking the man. “You know I’m friends with Hagrid, right? He told me that you were the one to pull me from the house, that you gave me to him. I assume this is so you could pursue the rat. I remember the flying motorcycle.”

“Hera, I…It was Pettigrew! He betrayed your family, betrayed you!” Sirius insisted, before sending a pleading look to Lupin, who only shrugged as if to say ‘I’ve taken my lumps, Man, it’s your turn’.

“No, you did that.” She snapped angrily, shutting him up. “You’re the one who left me. You’re the one who handed me off to Hagrid so that you could pursue your revenge instead of doing what my parents wanted you to do, what your friends wanted you to do; which was take care of me. I wasn’t important enough to be put first over your selfish need for revenge!”

“Hera, I…No one else knew I wasn’t the Secret Keeper.” Sirius insisted desperately.

“How long would it have taken to tell someone? For them to do a check on your wand? I hear there’s a spell for that.” Hera countered scathingly, without a bit of sympathy, and Sirius slumped a little. “Instead, you ran off half-cocked after Pettigrew. Not only did he escape, people died, you were thrown in Azkaban without a trial for your efforts, and now I have to meet with Lucius Malfoy.”

“Why would you have to meet with Malfoy?” Sirius asked in alarm. “Hera, he’s a Death Eater! They’re all Dark!”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not exactly a ray of warmth and sunshine yourself there, Black.” Hera countered, and damn that one must have cut to the quick, because Sirius snapped back like he’d been slapped. “People are more than just Light or Dark, there’s shades of Grey in there too, and it would do you well to remember that Light doesn’t always mean good and Dark doesn’t always mean evil. I myself have killed at least two or three people by now, by proxy at the very least, so I’m not exactly a shining example of light and benevolence either. So yes, I will meet with Lucius Malfoy in the hopes that I can get him to represent you to settle a life debt his son owes me. You will go, and you will listen to what he has to say, to what I have to say, or so help me I’ll feed the Firebolt to the Whomping Willow!”

The man just slumped down into a chair, thankfully provided by Lupin, and blinked rapidly in shock for a moment before replying. “That was like getting my arse handed to me by Lily!”

Which was exactly the right thing to say, because it sent Lupin into a fit of giggles he couldn’t recover from for what seemed like a good five minutes.

“I mean it, Sirius, you can’t be running off half-cocked like that again. I’m the kid, that’s my job. You have to prove that you’re fit enough to raise me, and that means meeting with Malfoy, and mind healers, and whoever else I say to, or else they’ll never okay this, and I’ll have to keep living with the Dursleys.” Hera huffed, when Lupin calmed down.

Sirius sighed heavily, but nodded, even though he’s grumbling. “Malfoy though?”

“Tell him why Draco Malfoy owes you a life debt.” Lupin says, descending into giggles again.

Sirius is looking at Lupin like he’s never seen him before, and honestly it almost makes up for being raised by the Dursleys…almost.

“What did you do?” Sirius asked, intrigued, and then remembers something. “And what’s with you killing three people? You’re not even out of Hogwarts yet.”

“More on that later.” Hera replies, waving her hand dismissively, which means she plans on avoiding telling that story for as long as possible, and leans forward in her seat. “So Hagrid’s a teacher now, Care of Magical Creatures, and he’s amazing. Gave us a book that bites. Anyway, first class, he brings out hippogriffs. Have you ever flown on one? It’s awesome. I highly recommend it, at least once. So, everyone gets a go, do the bow, pet the hippogriff, but before anyone else can get a chance for a fly, Malfoy insulted the hippogriff…sort of like how you talk to a dog that doesn’t know it’s being insulted because you’re using a happy voice while you do it; except the hippogriff understands it’s being insulted, and is rightfully brassed off about it.”

Sirius has his head in his hand, because he knows the dangers of insulting a hippogriff, but Lupin just descends further into giggles.

“Tell him.” Lupin wheezed through his giggling. “Tell him what you did.”

“Honestly, it wasn’t even that bad.” Hera rolled her eyes, which just caused Lupin to snort, so she shows Sirius the scar on her left forearm. There are talon marks, deep ones, across her arm now that the wrap had been removed. “Caught Buckbeaks talons with my arm when I pulled Malfoy out of the way, and then hauled back and punched that hippogriff square in the face…erm…beak?…area.”

Sirius just blinks at her owlishly as a slow smile spread across his face.

“And then…and then she just…scolds the hippogriff!” Lupin snickered. “Ronald Weasley said the hippogriff looked like a sulking child as it went back to its paddock, and she just stood there, blood dripping down her arm like she had no idea. He had to point it out, and her first thought…her first thought was wondering what Minnie’s reaction was gonna be!”

The grin on Sirius’ face gets bigger, and suddenly he’s horse laughing along with Lupin.

“James would be so proud!” Sirius manages to say. “And also scared out of his mind, like absolutely terrified. Hera’s inherited Lily’s temper!”

“Even better. I didn’t get a chance to tell you this.” Lupin reveals animatedly. “I was with her on the train ride to Hogwarts, and the Dementors stop the train. She grabs the Dementor as it makes for her friends, and then fusses at it for scaring her friends!”

“Still don’t know why my hand turned blue.” Hera muttered, which only made their laughing fit worse.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Hogsmeade weekend finally rolls around, and Hera feels like she’s going to war. Today was the meeting with Malfoy’s dad, and she was nervous. Ron wasn’t coming with her for this one. Even he knew he couldn’t keep his composure around Malfoy, and she needed composure. Hermione was coming, along with Draco. She knew Lupin would be there to keep Sirius in check, and could only hope that would be enough.

Madam Rosmerta ushers them into the meeting room, where she assures them ample food and drink had been prepared. It’s a cozy little room, but she can feel the tension in the air due to Lucius’ frostiness and Sirius’ desire to kill him. Lupin looks more nervous than usual, sitting on Sirius’ right side in order to make sure the man can’t cast spells easily, but that puts him closer to Lucius. Next to Lucius though is a fair skinned woman with blonde hair slightly peppered with black streaks, who looks at the three men as if she’s had enough of their crap, but decides that hiding her annoyance is the better part of valor. Hera has no such compunctions.

“I see we’re all behaving so well.” She comments snidely, as she walks into the room, and looks to Draco’s mother. “I had no idea that you would be here today, or else I would have arrived earlier just to help you cut through all the male testosterone driven hostility going on in here. However have you managed?”

“The same way women have been managing for millennia, I suppose.” The woman replied with a cool air, though not an unkind one, with the kind of practiced patience that can only be learned from not killing those who annoyed her over the years. “I’m Narcissa Malfoy, formerly of the House of Black, which is why my husband brought me. Sirius is my cousin. I think he was hoping it would help smooth things.”

“Hera Potter.” Hera replied with the same manner, and a slight nod. “This is Hermione Granger. She is one of my best friends, and offered to be a source of moral support for me while I deal with all of…this.”

“Ah, yes, my Dragon has told me a lot about you.” Narcissa mentioned with a soft smile, and Hera looks at Draco and mouthed ‘My Dragon?’ at him. Draco pinks, which tells her Narcissa is pulling the embarrassing mum card, and it hurts a little to know that she’ll never have that. “Brightest Witch of your Age, and first witch in your family? Your parents must be proud, Dear.”

“They are.” Hermione smiles, giving a slight nod. “It’s hard for them for me to be away for such long periods of time, especially given that this is a world they’ll never really understand even if they got to experience it, but they are supportive. There aren’t many in my position that can really say that.”

“If we can get on with the actual business of the day?” Lucius sniffed in disdain, his eyes flitting to Hermione.

“I thought you were supposed to be subtle.” Someone commented, and all eyes turned to Hera. Oh. She’d been the someone to say that. Might as well stick the other foot in her mouth too then. “With the amount of times your son has said ‘Wait till my Father hears about this’ I can imagine your opinion of myself and my friend. Your wife may even share in that opinion, but I wouldn’t know, because she has manners.”

“Oh, good, it’s not just me then.” Sirius commented, when it looked like Lucius was about to explode with annoyance. The Malfoys turned to him for clarification. “Should have seen how she ripped me a new one for going after Pettigrew instead of taking care of her like I should have been doing.”

“She bears her namesake well.” Lupin added with amusement.

Lucius looked stubborn, but resigned. “Very well. Hera Potter, my son has expressed a wish for me to represent your godfather, and clear the man with mind healers, in order to resolve his life debt. This would, if I accepted, transfer it to me. You understand this?”

“Yes. I do.” Hera replied formally.

“If I may have the particulars of how my son came to be in your debt, and why you want me to represent this man here, I would appreciate it.” Lucius continued, sounding official.

Hera hadn’t planned for Draco to actually be here for this part, but there was no other choice. So she plowed ever onward. She showed them the deep gash marks on her arms, scars now, healed as best as Poppy and Professor Snape could make them. She explained her experience with the hippogriff, and had admitted to not paying much attention when Malfoy had started his attempt, only catching his offhanded comment towards the creature; explaining that it was more like talking down to a dog but with a happy voice, because it’s not like they’re going to know. Hera had only had a split second to react, moving her arm in place as she shoved Malfoy behind her, before hauling off and punching the animal in the face.

“Wait…Draco wasn’t exaggerating?” Lucius asked, blinking in shock as he put down his tea. Her face must have expressed some confusion, because he elaborated. “Miss Potter, do you know how hard a hippogriff’s beak is? To literally punch one would be akin to running full tilt into Hogwarts at speeds only reachable via racing broom. Your hand should have been…for lack of a better word…mush.”

“Well, I won’t lie. It did smart a bit afterwards.” Hera admitted, still not getting it. More blinking from Lucius. This must just be something adults did, she decided.

Lucius turned to Hermione, and asked. “Is she like this all the time?”

Hermione just cracked a smile. “You get used to it after a while. At the beginning of the year, she actually grabbed the arm of a Dementor to stop it from going after Ron and I.”

“It’s true. I was there.” Lupin confirmed, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

“I see.” Was all Lucius said, before soldiering on. Brave man. “You expressed issues with your home life. Please explain. It will help me build a case for Sirius to replace them as your guardian, and then we’ll work on getting him replaced as your magical guardian as well, if we can manage to free him first. I understand you have a solid case against Dumbledore for breach of contract and dereliction of duty, though it has been filed with Gringotts and not the Ministry.”

Hera looked to Lupin before beginning, because this is what Sirius was likely to lose it over. It began with the Cupboard under the Stairs, how she thought all little girls must have one, how she thought her name was Freak until primary school. She talked about learning to cook at four years old, how it was just better that way because Petunia wasn’t good at it anyway. Besides, if she cooked the food, she could make sure she got enough to eat, even if she did have to sneak it when the Dursleys weren’t looking. She told them how she’d never gotten clothes of her own, other than underthings, till she went shopping in Diagon Alley; it was how she’d gotten so good at altering clothes, after all.

She told them about the strange things that would happen around her, how she would be locked in the cupboard for days because somehow she’d done something freakish again. She’d not known about the magical world, or that her parents hadn’t died in some car crash drugged out of their minds, because there was a strict ‘Don’t ask questions’ policy at the Dursley household. The word magic was a bad word. Getting higher marks than Dudley lead to broken bones and more time out in the cupboard. The only reason she wasn’t still sleeping in the cupboard was because the Dursleys had decided it someone might notice, since they were entertaining more now.

The only reason she’d made it to Second Year, was because she’d been rescued by the Weasley twins and Ron. She wasn’t allowed to eat with the family, had never received a Christmas or Birthday gift from them till First Year; showed them the coin as she explained that it came with a note asking her to see if she could stay the summer too. She explained the cat flap on the door, and the bars on her windows this last summer. Hermione and Ron had been able to send her food and things, but that was only because she knew how to shrink and expand things with her wand that summer so it wouldn’t register with the Ministry as underage magic use. She’d actually had to escape by pouring a large amount of magic out in an effort to try and freeze the bars on her windows.

“That’s why I found you on the street that night, when I was Grimm?” Sirius asked, sounding strangled. Hera nodded. “No wonder you were mad at me. I figured Petunia would be unpleasant, but…not this, not…I’m sorry.”

The rest of the year was quiet. Hera and Hermione slowly drifted to the point where they were helping each other manage their time, even though they said they wouldn’t at the beginning of the year. It kept Hermione from overtaxing herself, by making sure that she took time for herself regardless, and kept her from doing something drastic in Divination, as well as keep Hera distracted from the fact that she had told Draco Malfoy literally everything about her home life. Hera wasn’t sure where she’d heard of loom weaving as a form of Divination, but it appealed to Hermione’s meticulous nature far better than tea leaves or the crystal ball, so Professor Trelawney let them both take their exams with it. It ended up being a project that took half of the last term. While Hera didn’t develop a sudden love of complex math, she did appreciate it more with Hermione’s help, and together the two tackled Arithmancy.

Muggle Studies had disappointed them both. While pureblooded children learned how muggles had adapted without magic, the information was sadly out of date for the current times, and the two girls often found themselves helping the teacher answer questions in class. Otherwise, it was just like a history class. Hera was thinking about not continuing it next year, and maybe picking up an art class or something. The portraits of Hogwarts were fascinating that way. Perhaps music?

In the same vein, Hermione wasn’t going to be continuing Divination. While she was glad Hera had helped her stick it out, it just wasn’t for her. The Gryffindors had managed to win the House Cup for the first time in seven plus years, which was another thing that did not endear her to Professor Snape. Lupin resigned from the DADA position so that he could help Sirius prepare for his trial, the most nonviolent way the curse had ever struck a teacher so far in Hera’s school career, though they had all tried valiantly to get him to stay on. All of which was pushed out of her mind once she was back at the Dursleys.

This summer, the Dursleys had taken ignoring her to a whole new level. They hadn’t even picked her up from King’s Cross this year, not that she’d had any trouble finding her way back. When she got there, she actually had to laugh at what they’d done to her room. They had taken down the door, and completely walled the room up. Uncle Vernon actually looked proud of himself.

Hera just smirked, and headed for the tool shed out back. There was a collapsible ladder in there that she regularly used to keep the gutters cleaned. She used it now to get into her room via the windows, now that the bars were gone. They hadn’t sealed those in. Yet. She imagined that would be next year’s project, seeing as Vernon’s face was turning a shade of red Hera hadn’t realized was humanly possible till now.

As much of a prisoner as they tried to make her feel like, she felt an alarming amount of freedom instead. She could go do her homework whenever, go into Diagon Alley for supplies, go to the grocers to buy her own food, and not once was she asked to do a single chore. It was liberating. When Hera realized that Mrs. Norris looked like Mr. Tibbles, one of Mrs. Figgs cats, Hera began asking questions. Finding out that Dumbledore had placed her there to watch over Hera had not endeared the woman to her, but finding out that Dumbledore had pretty much ignored all Mrs. Figgs warnings about the Dursleys had endeared him to neither woman, and the two settled into a fast friendship. Coming back from one such visit, she was not expecting Lucius Malfoy to be standing in front of the Dursleys house staring at the house as if it offended him; it was certainly discombobulating to see someone so thoroughly magical in such a mundane place.

“Mr. Malfoy?” Hera called out in disbelief, causing him to turn slightly to face her. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my owls, and I have news about your godfather’s case.” Lucius stated, rather put out until he saw her clueless expression. “You haven’t gotten any of my owls, have you? No matter. We can speak now.”

“I’d invite you in, but…” Hera trailed off, not sure what to think about Dumbledore tampering with her mail, but wasn’t sure she could do anything where he was technically still her magical guardian.

“I don’t think my magic would survive the drain. Between the blood wards, and the utter mundane aura of this place, I’d walk out of there with less magic than a squib.” Lucius drawled distastefully, looking back at the house. “Honestly, if it hadn’t been for the wards, I would have walked by this place without even realizing it was here.”

“I live here, and I still have to check the house numbers sometimes just to make sure I haven’t passed it up.” Hera snorted in amusement. “Come on. There’s a park where people play chess nearby. We can go there, and you can tell me the latest.”

“You would trust me to walk with you unaccompanied?” Lucius asked, surprised, but followed along side her nonetheless. “Surely your godfather warned you about me.”

“He did.” Hera confirmed. “But seeing as how he’s part of the reason I’m in this mess, and you might be my way of getting out of it, he doesn’t have a whole lot of room to talk.”

...

“He’s not seeing the Mind Healer like he’s supposed to, is he?” She concluded, when he was through giving his summation of events. Sirius was finally a free man, but with freedom came the independence and rebellion he’d displayed in his youth.

“No, he is not.” Lucius confirmed, watching as her shoulders slumped slightly. “Nor is he taking his potions as he should, though I think that is more due to the fact that he and Severus Snape have a bad history.”

“That selfish bloody wanker.” She swore under her breath emphatically, before pinning him with a glare. “Where is he?”

“Currently at St. Mungo’s.” He replied, hiding his amusement. “We can go now, if you like.”

“Would you mind waiting for me?” She asked quickly. “I’d like to get my things before we go. I’ll not be coming back here till after school lets out again.”

“After you then.” Lucius allowed, and the two walked back to the oddly mundane house. The girl proceeded to bring out a strange contraption and rest it against the house. When he realized her intention to climb it, he had to ask. “Isn’t the front door more prudent?”

“It would be if they hadn’t walled up the door to my room.” She replied succinctly, and starts climbing. “I’ve had to runaway from this house every year just to get to school, and this last year they didn’t even come to get me from the station. When I got here, I discovered the door sealed off. Last year the windows had bars on them. I could go on, but you get the picture.”

Indeed, he did. He wondered if she’d noticed that there was a horse faced woman now glaring at him from the window. When Miss Potter came down the ladder contraption, she didn’t even bother putting it away, and angrily gave the house and its occupants the two fingered salute with each hand, before walking off. Ah, so she had noticed. Lucius couldn’t help a slight smirk as he nodded to the woman in the window before apparating Miss Potter and himself out. The apoplectic shock on her face had been well worth it.

Sirius didn’t have the time to do more than look up before she started.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kick your arse right now.” Hera demands, once the door to the room is closed. “We had an agreement. You do what needs to be done. You get better, get cleared with mind healers, whatever it takes. You can not raise me if you do not make an effort to get better. Refusing to take your potions qualifies as you not making an effort; or did you think you could skip them, and the healers not notice?”

“You didn’t say anything about taking potions from Snape.” Sirius shot back stubbornly petulant. He’d even crossed his arms.

“I didn’t think I’d have to, because you’re supposed to be the responsible adult. That means that sometimes you do things you don’t want to, because you have someone else depending on you, someone who needs you to bloody be responsible.” Hera snapped scathingly. “He’s the best Potion’s Master this side of the world, to hear Madam Pomfrey tell it. Who else did you think I'd get to make your potions?”

“There’s no way he’d be willing to help me.” Sirius shot back, on the defensive. “After everything we did to him? No. Snivillus would rather poison me first, and I’ll not take anything he makes.”

“Snivillus?” Hera asked, narrowing her eyes at him as her voice held a low and dangerous edge to it.

“Old nickname. Pranked the hell out of him. Nothing he didn’t deserve, of course. Slimy old git with his ratty clothes and greasy hair, knew more dark curses by the time he entered school than most of the upper years.” Sirius rushed through the description with a flippancy she didn’t care for. “He was bad news, and Lily eventually realized that. Stopped being friends with him after he called her something he shouldn’t have.”

Hera felt instantly nauseous, as she knew this was undoubtedly something Professor Snape would not want her to know. No wonder he couldn’t stand the sight of her. She reminded him of one of his bullies from childhood. Being reminded almost daily that your own friend had chosen your bullies over you was not a scenario she could envision herself weathering well, no matter how much of an arse she’d been previously. She’d heard enough stories to know that Lily had called James a useless toerag, before the year they fell in love that is, which gave her the hope that at least James had grown up a little, even if Professor Snape and Sirius had not. Lupin had grown up as well, though he seemed to remember things with rose colored glasses; something which came with its own trappings.

“I was bullied in primary school.” Hera began, not wanting to look at him now. “Dudley made sure everyone knew not to be friends with me. He and his gang made sure I knew I was a sniveling little freak, especially if I cried. They would push my down the stairs, yank my hair, throw rocks at me, try and rip off my clothes, even pour buckets of yuck on me if they could manage it.”

Sirius looked mortified, obviously knowing where this was headed, but not wanting to face it.

“Pretty soon, the whole school got in on it, or at least it felt that way. They certainly ignored what was happening to me, that’s for sure. Couldn’t be friends with that Potter girl. She’s always wearing those raggedy clothes that don’t fit right. Her hair is too unkempt. Her family says she’s troubled. Can’t trust a thing she says. She’s bad news.” Hera continued, her voice sounding hollow and far away to her own ears. “Dudley and his friends had this game they liked to play called ‘Hera Hunting’ or ‘Find the Freak’, where they would find me, chase me down, and then beat me up while yelling about what a drunkard my father must have been, how my mother was a drug addict and a whore, how it was no wonder that they went and got themselves killed in that car accident drunk and drugged out of their minds, trying to numb the stupidity of having a freak like me for a kid. And if I happened to break an arm, or walk with a limp for a week, it was fine-”

“Hera…” Sirius trailed off, his voice filled with pain and regret.

She was glaring hard at him now. “-because I deserved it.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Hera…” Sirius trailed off, his voice filled with pain and regret.

She was glaring hard at him now. “-because I deserved it.”

Chapter 15

Hera left for Diagon Alley after that. She could get her shopping done early, and quite frankly she didn’t feel like being there anymore. If Sirius was going to grow up, he’d have to do it on his own. As the Leaky was obviously compromised, Hera opted to take the goblins advice on where to stay, which was with them. Coincidentally, they added a charge of mail tampering against Dumbledore, just to be vindictive about it. It had certainly made their day, though it had let the man know exactly where she was staying; not that he could get to her while she was there.

It was thanks to the goblins that she knew about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, which really helped out when it came to shopping for dress robes. She’d opted to have something custom made, that way she could add any alterations she wanted to it later. The people at Twilfitt and Tattings were glad to assist her, having spoken to her at length before about the little alterations she made to her own clothes already. She’d just needed to pick up a few extra things, and add another compartment to her trunk. Mr. Wiseacre had been ecstatic. It was bordering on ridiculous at this point, and the two were just curious to see how many compartments they could add before the thing exploded or something.

It was during a particular shopping trip that she ran into Mrs. Weasley, and while she wasn’t certain this was a coincidence, the woman was too nice to turn away; if a little overbearing at times. Hera couldn’t seem to get too upset about it. Though the woman pushed at boundaries to the point of peer pressure and guilt, Hera could see she meant well. Mrs. Weasley, who insisted she call her Molly, had been excited to learn what Hera planned to do for the Yule Ball, though she did ask her to keep quiet about it to her children for the time being. It had lead to a conversation on domestic magic, which Hera had been more than eager to learn, curious about the spells magicals used to take care of things around the home.

While Molly went down to her family’s vault, Hera packed up her things and thanked the goblins for their hospitality. They were exceedingly kind to her, especially because she always kept whatever deal she made with them, and she paid for whatever she asked for; giving more when she was inordinately pleased with what they had come up with. She got the sense that the wizarding world as a whole would benefit if they did that, but it wasn’t like she was going to tell them either. After all, as Griphook had said, if they hadn’t figured it out by now, they probably never would. Hera kind of liked how conniving the goblins were, shrewd in their dealings, knowing all too well what it was like to be betrayed by those she should have been able to trust; the Dursleys, and the dreams of a life not her own, came to mind.

When Molly comes back up to the lobby, Hera is ready to go, and they continue their conversation on domestic magic once at the Burrow. Molly is patient when she explains things, making sure that Hera understands before moving on to a different topic. She’d tried teaching her boys these spells, the woman had despaired, but none of them had a knack for more than the basics. Ginny had no patience for some of it, and while Hermione stayed with them at the moment as well, she’d not taken more than a cursory interest in the subject. When Hermione notices Hera’s interest though, she wonders at it, huffing about feminism and liberating women from the kitchen.

The three girls stay up that night, and Hera and Ginny explain their point of view to Hermione. It’s not that the boys can’t learn, or that Molly hasn’t tried to teach them; it’s that they just have no interest in learning that magic. They’ll do it the hands on way. It was hard for her to accept that a part of true feminism was recognizing that there were women who liked to be homemakers like Molly did, and that it didn’t make her less of a woman for it, just as it did not make Hermione any less of a woman for wanting to focus on a career. Molly ran an entire farm, managed the finances, and scared all seven of her children onto the straight and narrow; any woman who could do all that was more than formidable. Hera won her over with the argument that if Ron or the other boys made fun of them for finding interest in the more domestic side of magic, if the boys thought they could take advantage of them, or thought that they were better than them, then they could teach those boys why they should fear and respect the women in their lives.

Up until that point, Hermione and Molly had often butted heads. Hermione was stubborn and wanted to be a liberated career woman, which was just fine, but she had been looking down on Molly for her choice while Molly had been doing the same to her; neither of which was okay. After the conversation though, things were much better, and Hera interrupted whenever it looked like Molly was trying to overexert her will on Hermione, and Ginny kept Hermione distracted enough that she didn’t feel so pressured by Molly whenever the woman tried. Molly also wasn’t particularly sure how to handle Hera’s situation with Dumbledore either, other than polite curiosity, and Hera never talked bad about the man when asked about it; which helped a lot. The Weasley Matriarch had seen enough of Hera’s behaviour to know that her family didn’t treat her right, no matter how safe Dumbledore claimed she was there, that the woman only hummed in interest when Hera explained she’d transferred Draco’s life debt to Lucius Malfoy so that he could help Sirius Black gain custody of her; or at the very least, get the man the help he needs.

Hera notices though that Molly treats her slightly different than her own children, and wonders why. She shouldn’t have. None of them are as skittish as she is most days. The twins always make a lot of noise so as not to surprise her when they pop up. Ginny generally waits till she sees her or follows the twins plan.

Ron doesn’t burst in at random so much anymore, but every once in a while he forgets, and Hera ends up accidentally apparating to a different part of the house. She’s met the ghoul in the attic twice now because of that. It’s actually quite nice, but she’ll never tell anyone, because it loves pranking the twins just as much as the twins love pranking it. Percy doesn’t come out of his room much, but when he does she expresses polite interest about his job; which surprises him enough that he finds himself in a full on conversation about the subject one day for over an hour without feeling like he’s being belittled for loving his job.

The twins thinks she’s insane for it, but they lay off pranking him when they see it makes her uncomfortable. She knows all too well what it is like for being thought of as the freak in the family, and when they hear that, the pranks definitely lighten up on Percy. He actually thanks her, but says he thinks they’re funny, but will deny it with his dying breath if she ever says anything. It’s nice having little secrets like that, like being a part of a real family. If he ever needs to prank the twins one day, she’s offered to help; they’d never expect it. His shy acceptance of the offer is nice.

Charlie had talked excitedly about the new dragon that got ‘anonymously’ donated, and how it was doing. Bill worked at Gringotts, but she’d never really talked to him while there. Molly had not been impressed when Hera had taken an interest in the fang earring he wore, a recent acquisition, and had berated him at length for his long hair. Ron teased her about having a crush on Bill, but she shot that down, having always wanted a cool older brother. Bill took this role seriously, which prompted a prank war with the twins, while Charlie and the others watched on with amusement.

With the wake up call happening so early in the morning, Hera had opted to just change into tomorrows clothes, and make sure they were super comfy. Ginny had thought that was a brilliant idea, and though Hermione had argued about the unorthodox manner of it, she secretly agreed. So that morning they were much more prepared for things than the boys, and Ron just blearily glared at the three of them like they were some kind of unholy abominations he had yet to identify. Mr. Weasley used Hera as some kind of Muggle liaison, which she used to send Ron and the twins back to change their clothes three times before they realized she was pranking them without any effort at all.

Fred and George were later glad that she had done that, because it helped them hide their things better from their mother. They might not have gotten as many OWL’s as Molly would have liked, but Hera had convinced them to take their studies more seriously. If they really wanted to open up their own joke shop, the more credentials they had, the better. Their mother certainly appreciated their attention to their studies, if not the motivation for why, though Hera wasn’t sure how much the woman actually knew about her sons plans for their future. The three of them talked about it at length on the walk to the portkey that morning, with Mr. Weasley ‘who she was supposed to call Arthur’ listening in occasionally. He could be seen grinning about her offer to invest in their joke shop if they passed so many NEWT’s; the better the grades, the more she would invest, and they were worth it.

When they’d made it to the portkey point, they’d met up with the Diggorys. Hera of course started talking to Cedric about Quidditch, while the twins just nodded. He’d beaten her to the snitch during the first match of the year, but it had been such a spectacular catch that she couldn’t even be mad about it. The twins joked about fraternizing with the enemy when they start swapping tips, but Ginny is listening in with rapt attention; Her brothers didn’t yet know that the girl has been nicking their brooms since she could walk, another nice little secret that made her feel like a part of the family. Hera’d not been paying attention to the conversation between Arthur and Mr. Diggory until she hears the man’s exclamations about ‘Harry Potter!’

“It’s Hera, actually.” Hera corrected automatically.

“Ced’s talked about you, of course,” Mr. Diggory plowed on, not paying attention. “Told us all about playing against you last year-”

Hera had been paying attention to Cedric, who was beginning to look more and more embarrassed, and figured that the man was bound to say something tactless, interrupted him.

“It really was a fantastic match.” She agreed wholeheartedly.

“-said ‘that’s something you can tell your grandchildren, that will…You beat Harry Potter!” He continued as if she hadn’t said a word.

“My name is Hera.” She stated pointedly, glaring at him. “Not Harry.”

The man just brushed it off as if he hadn’t said anything wrong, and Cedric just mouthed ‘I’m sorry about him’ when his back was turned. Hera gave an ‘It’s fine’ shrug, and the boy breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hera, why don’t you mind it when Ron or one of us calls you Harry?” Hermione asks, quietly. The two adults are talking portkey semantics, but it’s clear to Hera that they’re listening in. “We haven’t much, but I know we have.”

“You all are my friends, and respected me enough to wait until I was comfortable with you before you did.” Hera replied in kind. “I’ve heard people butcher your name. You never look like you enjoy it. Mione seems to be acceptable, but again, that’s only because we waited till we’d cemented a friendship.”

“It’s almost time! Everyone, grab on to the boot!” Arthur called out. Everyone made to grab for said object. “Three…two…one...”

Hera was really glad she hadn’t eaten much that morning, because when they landed she promptly landed on her knees and hurled up the contents of her stomach.

“Next time, Ron, just scare me to the Cup. Okay?” Hera groaned as she recovered, prompting the Weasleys and Hermione to laugh, while Cedric just grinned in amusement at a joke he knew he wasn’t a part of, and Mr. Diggory just looked confused.

“You don’t go out into the muggle world much, I take it?” Hera tried to ask in the most polite manner she could, looking at the two men in front of her, still looking a little green from the portkey.

“Not much, no…” The man on the left replied. “May I ask how you know that?”

“We’re both muggle raised.” Hermione explained, and the poncho man nodded in understanding. “He could have worn dragon hide boots with that suit, and been fine. People would have thought it was crocodile or something. They make shoes like that. I’ve never seen anyone wear a kilt and a poncho in combination before, but I like it. People will think you’re a trend setter.”

Hera nodded sagely, turning a little more green at the action, and tried to hide the grimace. Poncho guy brightened at Hermione’s word, and the guy in the suit gladly switched shoes muttering about uncomfortable galoshes; they had been thigh highs too, the poor man.

“Here.” Cedric whispered, handing her something that looked like a sugar cube. “It will help with the nausea, and vanish anything left over from the yuck. First portkey?”

Hera’s grimace was all the confirmation he needed.

“Thanks. Side along apparation isn’t so bad though, and I’m still trying to work out how to stick the landing when it comes to the Floo.” Hera admitted, and Cedric chuckled in agreement. Arthur was talking to Poncho guy, who’s named turned out to be Basil.

They all set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. It wasn’t long before a small stone cottage came into view. Beyond it, hundreds of tents could be seen in the mists, like some kind of ghostly village. It was eerily beautiful. The Diggorys headed off in another direction though, and they said their goodbye’s before heading towards the cottage. As they got close though, Hera had an alarming thought she hoped wasn’t true, and turned to Arthur.

“Arthur, how comfortable are you with muggle money?” She whispered. Arthur grinned nervously, but it looked more like a grimace than a smile, and Hera instantly understood. “You never really need it for your job? Ever?”

“Not much opportunity to go shopping in muggle areas when I’m on the job, no.” He lamented.

“We should go sometime, when you’re free. If you take some of those plugs and broken things to the scrapyard, you’ll have room for fully functional muggle equipment to play with, and they give you money for giving them your broken things.” Hera whispered quickly. “But for right now, I have an idea.”

“What’s that?” Arthur whispered back.

“Pretend to be my dad, and I’m just a black haired Weasley.” She replied, before strolling forward. “Follow my lead.”

He squeaked in surprise, but followed after her.

“Morning, sir!” She called out. Hermione watched in amusement, but said nothing to the others.

“Morning.” The man greeted.

“Would you be Mr. Roberts?” Arthur asked tentatively.

“I am.” Mr. Roberts acknowledged. “And you?”

“Weasleys. Booked two tents a couple of days ago?” Arthur replied.

“Right. That’ll be…” Hera pretended not to be paying attention on the amount until Arthur brought out the bills.

“Dad! You said I could pay this time!” Hera objected with an indignant huff.

Arthur caught onto her game, and smiled in amusement as he asked. “And do you happen to have any money, young lady?”

“Of course, I do!” Hera insisted, beginning to dig through her pockets. She’d actually meant to bring muggle money with her, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough, so her blushing embarrassment at not having any muggle money was all too real as she looked over at him. Leaning over, she stage whispers. “Can I borrow some money off of you? I left mine at home.”

“Right. Of course.” Arthur teased, before handing her the money. She sorted out the correct amount, and then handed it to Mr. Roberts.

“Is this enough, Sir?” Hera asked innocently, with big hopeful eyes. Mr. Roberts chuckled, before handing back correct change as well as a map of the campsite. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

When they were far enough away, she handed the money back to Arthur.

“That was inspired.” Fred praised.

“Absolute genius.” George carried on.

“Brilliant.”

“Couldn’t have done it better ourselves.”

“Alright boys, that’s enough. Thanks for the spot of help, Hera. Saved us from having to erase that poor blokes memory too, I suspect.” Arthur stated. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to put up a tent, would you?”

“Never been camping.” Hera admitted regrettably, even as memories of dreams of that other life cropped up to give examples of what to do. She wasn't sure it would apply to modern tents anyway.

“I’ve memorized instruction manuals for tents.” Hermione offered up helpfully.

“That’s wonderful! We’ll have to do this the muggle way, so we’ll follow your lead when we get to our spot, Hermione.” Arthur announced.

Hermione was brilliant when they got there, explaining the set up and what went where. Whenever Arthur got too enthusiastic with the mallet, they just moved him to a new spot. He loved it. Once everything was set up, Hera and Hermione were both surprised that the tents were bigger on the inside, though they shouldn’t have been. Arthur wanted them to have the full muggle experience, and he was so happy about it that neither Hermione or Hera could deny him. So while Hera went with Ron to get the water, Hermione stayed to help with the firewood.

Hera ended up helping several other wizarding families start their fires with matches and newspaper or other such things under their firewood. They’d been looking at them like they weren’t sure it would work. Ron watched in amusement as she kept getting waylaid by other people requesting help with theirs as well. Soon enough though, they were in a sea of green. Seamus looked to be having the time of his life, and his mother complained about the Bulgarian tents, which of course meant they all had to go look, which is how Hera learns about Krum.

Once at the queue though, they hear-

“Just put them on, Archie.” A Ministry wizard sighed in exasperation, holding out a pair of striped trousers to an older man wearing a long flowering dress.

“I bought this in a muggle shop.” The old man stubbornly insisted. “Muggles wear them.”

“Muggle women, not men. Muggle men wear these.” the Ministry wizard exclaimed.

“Well, I’m not putting them on.” said old Archie in indignation. “I like a healthy breeze ‘round my privates, thanks.”

“Erm…Excuse me, if I may?” Hera calls out, interrupting the men, both of whom blush in embarrassment when they see her impish grin at having obviously heard their conversation. “Why don’t you wear what Basil had on? The man had a kilt on, right? Nice healthy breeze and all that. Muggles don’t bat an eye twice if they see a man in a kilt, but you should know, Mr. Ministry wizard, that there are muggle men who do wear ladies clothes. Why not? There are ladies who wear men’s clothes all the time. I myself am sporting a fine pair of boys cargo pants.”

“Really?” Old Archie asked, as if she’d answered all his prayers, though he was intrigued about the cargo pants. “Why?”

“They have tons of pockets.” Hera replied conspiratorially, like she was sharing a secret. “Don’t have to worry about carrying a bag or anything when I can fit all I want in about eight different pockets.”

Archie looked positively vindicated that he didn’t have to wear the trousers if he didn’t want to, and the Ministry wizard sent her a withering look, which she just smiled at innocently. As Archie walks away, she hears him chuckling ‘Hera Potter says I can wear ladies clothes if I damn well want, Reggie. Take that!’, which made her day. Ron chuckled, and eventually the two made it to their turn for water. It took a while to get back, because more people needed help with fires, and they’d seen her helping before but missed her before they could ask. It also didn’t help that the water was heavy.

“You’ve been ages.” George commented when they got back.

“Hera’s a helper.” Ron explained, and then proceeded to tell the story of the trail of fires and Archie of the nice healthy breeze to the delight of many a Weasley.

Several Ministry officials came and went as the day wore on. Ludo Bagman, who was apparently the Head of Sports or something, even stopped by. Only Hera’s stern eye kept the twins from betting, something Arthur appreciated. They did show him one of their fake wands though, which he was excited about, paid them and then promptly left. Hera took the five galleons from the twins before they could pocket it though.

“Arthur, is there a spell to check if money is fake or not?” Hera asked, frowning at the gold coins. “Something feels off about these. Humour me?”

Arthur did as asked, and was surprised when the spell confirmed her suspicions.

“Let that be a lesson to you.” She warned Fred and George. “If someone is sure they can make a quick galleon off you like he was, they also think they can scam you too. Is there anyway we can report him?”

“Not really. They aren’t licensed yet, but I should at least tell one of the officials. They’ll be on him for peddling fake gold again.” Arthur explained. “It wouldn’t be the first time he’s used it, and he owes a lot of money to people, goblins especially.”

Both Fred and George deflated at that, but accepted it.

“Oh, don’t look like that. Show us around the souvenir shops.” Hera insisted, taking an arm of each one. “We can scope out shop ideas at the same time!”

That perked them right up, and after lunch the lot of them went round the shops. Percy stayed to catch up on a bit of work, and a stern eye kept the twins from picking at him too much for wanting to impress his boss. Ron bought some kind of dancing shamrock, and an enchanted Victor Krum figurine. Hera couldn’t resist and bought one too, but hers had a little broom the shop owner insisted would allow the little Krum to fly when he was set on a stable surface, and an itty bitty snitch already in hand. She’d been impressed with some kind of brass binoculars, buying three pairs before anyone could stop her. Ron was still weird about money, but he also knew that she’d grown up with less than him, and didn’t want her thinking she had to buy his friendship.

“If you want, you won’t be getting anything for your birthday for like the next ten years.” Hera insisted with a grin, which made him laugh.

“Well that sounds fair then.” Ron agreed, his grin as big as her own.

Chapter Text

Last time...

“If you want, you won’t be getting anything for your birthday for like the next ten years.” Hera insisted with a grin, which made him laugh.

“Well that sounds fair then.” Ron agreed, his grin as big as her own.

Chapter 16

“Something’s wrong.” Hera whispered, once they got inside the Top Box.

“Punch a hippogriff or Quirrellmort?” Ron remarked without missing a beat.

“Somewhere between Quirrellmort and Broken Barrier.” Hera replied in confusion.

“You really got to get a lock on that danger sense you got, Mate.” Ron snickered, but she noticed that both he and Hermione checked their Weasley Wands in their pockets.

Their real wands were in holsters hidden under their sleeves with anti theft and notice-me-not charms on them. She’d begun outfitting her friends with things like that as Christmas and birthday gifts when she could. It hadn’t escaped her notice that she always seemed to have something dangerous going on anymore, whether it be a mad man out to kill her or some crazy randomness that somehow ended up happening. Better to be prepared, and being her friend was dangerous. Since it was foolish to try and keep them from the danger that was attracted to her, it was best to outfit them to be safe.

Shrugging it aside for now, she found herself talking to a house elf by the name of Winky. The poor dear was afraid of heights, and saving a seat for her master. Hera wasn’t sure where the lie was, but she’d heard it, knew it for what it was. That’s another thing she noticed wasn’t just a normal thing in the wizarding world, the ability to know when someone was lying. It had always been there, so she’d never questioned it, but no one else around her seemed to have the ability.

“I don’t know what you said to him, Miss Potter, but your godfather is taking to healing with a vengeance.” Lucius Malfoy stated, upon seeing her when he’d entered the Top Box.

Hera just snorted, and replied. “Let me know when he apologizes to Professor Snape, and I’ll believe he’s finally starting to grow up. Let me know if Professor Snape ever accepts the apology and reciprocates with one of his own, and I might actually believe there’s hope for the human race.”

“Well, I hear hope springs eternal.” Lucius remarked wryly, and began looking around. “Are you here with the Weasleys? What did Arthur do, sell his house?”

“I thought adults were supposed to be mature, you know, be role models for all us bright young minds.” Hera commented. The look she got was less than impressed, at which she just continued smiling innocently.

It wasn’t long till the game started, and both Hera and Hermione had to pull Ron away from the window. Apparently Veela magic made men stupid. She noticed that Arthur had the twins by their collars, and Mr. Malfoy had Draco by his. Bill and Charlie were both dangerously close to the window, even with Percy holding them back with everything he had, and wasn’t that a surprising development; Maybe this was the year he finally admitted he had a girlfriend. The Irish team’s mascots were leprechauns, and the show they put on was fantastic, though she was fairly certain that the money wasn’t real. She had never heard any stories where leprechauns gave away their gold for nothing, but there were plenty of stories about them tricking people with fake gold to protect the real stuff, something she’d tried to explain to Ron as he pocketed a bunch of the stuff.

When the game actually started, Hera was hooked. While the others watched the match, she watched the Seekers. The moves they pulled off were fantastic, and she would slow down, rewind, and reviewing them all until she figured out how she could do them too; Wood would be proud. Lynch, the Irish team’s Seeker was good; Krum was better. She could see now why Ron was so obsessed with him. At this rate, she was probably going to follow suit.

During the match, Draco and Hera kept up a running commentary about the Seeker’s moves. He’s been reviewing them all just as she has, and she can only imagine the heart attacks they’ll give their respective teams this year when they attempt them. Ron looks at her like she’s insane for associating with a Malfoy, but she just shrugs; It’s a Seeker thing. Hermione looks faintly amused, and no doubt has her own secret friendship-rivalry with the boy over academics. They’re still talking Seeker moves when the game ends. Mrs. Malfoy has a soft amused expression as she watches her son talk animatedly about one of his most favorite topics with a girl he was adamant annoyed him with her entire being.

Eventually, they all separate, and head off to their own tents. Ron and Hera are animatedly talking about the match, and even Hermione is ecstatic about how thrilling it all was. Ginny looks like she’s got stars in her eyes, she’s so happy. Of course, it can’t last forever, and eventually the play-by-play falls to the wayside in favor of sleep. Hera falls asleep as well at some point, and all she can hear is the fans in the stadium shouting ‘Hera! Hera! Hera!’.

“Hera! Wake up!” Arthur insists, shaking her. “Come on now, this is urgent. Wake up, Hera!”

“M’kay, Unc’l Vern’n, I’ll make br’fst.” Hera mumbles as she rubs the sleepy bugs out of her eyes, and stills in embarrassment as she realizes what she’s just said. “What’s wrong, Arthur?”

In the back of her mind, she understood something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. No longer was it celebratory. She could hear screams, and the sound of running. The girls were putting on jackets, but she just threw on her shoes, and rushed out the door. The few fires that were still lit gave off enough light that she could see people running into the woods, fleeing something that crossing the field towards them; flashes of light and sounds like gunpowder followed after them. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells drifted towards them; then came a strong burst of green light, enough that it illuminated the entire scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed, moving together across the field like a unit, their wands pointing upward. Hera tried squinting to see them, but it was like they didn’t have faces. Hoods covered them, their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, were four figures contorting in grotesque ways; as if the wizards were puppeteers playing with their marionettes. Two of the figures in the air were very small, and all at once Hera couldn’t breathe. Children. They were torturing children.

“We’re going to help the ministry!” Arthur shouted over the noise, gesturing to indicate his three eldest sons. “You lot…get in the woods, and stick together! I’ll come fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!”

They were gone before the children could say anything.

“Any of you have your brooms?” Hera asked intently.

“Harry, we’re supposed to go into the woods!” Hermione shrieked in panic.

“He said ‘get in the woods, and stick together’. He didn’t say we had to do it in that order, or when we had to do it exactly.” Hera pointed out, already getting out and unshrinking her broom. “We don’t have a lot of time. Who has their brooms?”

Fred and George both raised their hands, but Ron wilted. He’d left his at home. Ginny shook her head no, and Hermione turned green at the thought. She’d not bought one. Hera nodded in understanding; it was a situation to correct later, but not something to worry over just yet.

“Alright. Fred, George? I’ll distract the wizards, you play Keep the Muggle. Ron, Hermione, Ginny? Lay down some ground defenses, offenses if you like. If they get too close, I want you in those tents with the strongest shield charms you can muster, blasting anything that comes through, and ask questions after they’re dead.”

“Pardon.” They hear, and everyone is quick to hold this new person who is nearing them at wand point. “Vould you haff room for von more?”

“Krum?” Hera realizes. “Fight or Fly?”

“I vill fight. Protect.” The older teen replies quickly. “Ve must move quickly.”

“Alright. You all know what to do.” She nods, before she mounts her broom, shooting off like a rocket towards the wizards.

...

Fred and George wait till she’s almost half way to the encroaching wizards before mounting their brooms, and flying low but wide circles around the muggles. It would help if they had another broom, but Ron left his at home, and Krum had decided defending those that had less combat experience was more important. They couldn’t just depend on two third years and one second year to have Hera’s back on the ground. Speaking of which, Hera had speared through that group like she was playing chicken

………and they’d blinked first.

“What does she think she’s doing?!” Malfoy hissed. Hermione was successful in not jumping at the sound, but she was the only one.

“The right thing.” Hermione snapped, already setting up spell upon spell under her breath.

“Why aren’t you running? They’d do worse to you!” Malfoy continued. “Damn it, Granger, they’d take one look at you, and-”

“Malfoy, if you aren’t going to help, either shut up or get out.” Ron growls, not even looking back at him. “Bloody hell!”

Hera had stopped in the middle of yet another charge, and shot into the air like a bullet, only to catch one of the smaller children that had fallen past Fred and George’s reach; both had caught the two adults, and one child was still being tortured. It was exactly the distraction the wizards down below were looking for, and they began firing off spells at the girl. Too bad for them Ginny put all her might into casting the strongest Batty Bogey she could at the lot, and at least four of them went down. Malfoy looked mildly terrified of her, which boosted Ginny’s confidence big time, and even Krum looked suitably impressed. Some of those batty bogies were the size of Great Danes.

...

Most of them apparated out when that happened, pulling their injured comrades with them. Hera had a split second to realize that left the other kid free-falling, before she was racing to save that kid too; not an easy feat with one child already in her arms. She dove, pushing the Firebolt for all the speed she could get from it. She was able to reach the kid, but she had to let go of the Firebolt to do it, and she wasn’t going to be able to pull out of the dive with just her knees. Hera rolled off the broom and onto her back, shielding the small children as best as she could, curling herself around them before they hit the ground. She had no idea how far they slid, but they do eventually stop, and she sags with relief.

“That hurt.” Hera groans breathlessly. Both little boys start hugging the life out of her when they realize they are safe and on the ground. “You two alright? No injuries? We landed kinda hard there.”

“HERA PRIMROSE POTTER!!!”

Hera took a deep breath despite the excruciating pain it caused, and let out a string of expletives she’d never dare say in front of Molly, breathlessly laughing when the two younger boys looked scandalized even after everything they’d just been through.

“Quick! You have to hide me. She’s so scary.” Hera wheezed through her pained laughter. She waved her hands pitifully. “I can’t move.”

“Hera, what were you thinking! You could have gotten yourself killed!” Hermione shrieked, as she stomped over. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just…stuck.” Hera admitted as she laughed, waving her hands a little more for show. “Feeling a little like an overturned turtle. Help?”

“Hera! Hera! Is she okay? Let me through! My family is over there!” She hears Arthur shout. When he gets into her field of vision, he has the sternest expression she’s ever seen him use. “You’re grounded.”

“You’re not my real dad.” She teases.

The man doesn’t even hesitate, and replies with a grin. “Just for that, I’m going to make sure you eat all your vegetables.”*

While the muggle family was taken off to be treated and obliviated, Hera was looked over for injuries as well. She was sore, and a bit stiff, but otherwise fine; a surprise, given the rather long crater she had left in the earth when she hit it and continued sliding. There was a rather large nasty looking bruise covering the expanse of her back, but that would easily heal with time. The Firebolt was recovered, hovering near the Weasley tents when they went searching for it. That was a minor miracle, considering everything that had happened.

Arthur was scolding her for her recklessness, and how she’d wriggled out of his orders…and influenced his children to disobey him, but he smiled fondly at her like he was remembering something. Maybe this is what it was like for Ron when he made his parents angry worry, that they fuss at him but still show that they love him. Hera had never experienced anything like it, and didn’t know how to react or how to handle it. Ron hadn’t look like he was going to get kicked out, or told he was unloved. He just accepted his father’s fussing, feigning a put upon look, but Hera could see the fondness for his father in his eyes. They still loved him, and Ron had no doubts about it, which eased her mind when the fussing was turned back towards her.

“You think this is something,” Ron tells her later. “just want till Mum gets her chance to fuss over you.”

Hera had groaned, having somehow forgotten she was going to have to face Molly.

When they get back to the Burrow, Hera makes sure to stay in the back of the group. Old fears are ever present, memories of being ‘scolded’ by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon at the forefront of her mind. It is the reason Molly is more cautious with her than she is with her own children. The woman worries over Arthur first, fussing as she checked him over for injuries even though the incident had been days ago. Her oldest boys are next; Bill and Charley shrug her off with the ease of practice, and Fred and George get surprised with hugs so tight they couldn’t breathe.

“Now, you four…” Molly frowns, pausing for a moment, looking around. “Where’s Hera?”

Hera is shamelessly hiding behind Ron, figuring that she might as well use that beanpole height of his for all it’s worth.

“Hera, what you did was reckless and dangerous. You endangered the lives of your friends, but even so…” Molly began, as she tried to peer around her son’s side, realizing where Hera had likely hidden herself. “…You made sure they had a plan to stay safe, and you saved two children at extreme risk. I’m so proud of you, of all of you.”

And then suddenly she was being hugged as the others had been, her eyes wide as she looked to the others to check if this was normal, despite already knowing the answer to that; Ron grinning sheepishly at her. When had he moved? The traitor! She starts waving her hands, because she can’t breathe, but she’s never felt so loved before. The others all chuckle, and eventually Molly lets go enough that Hera can see she’d started crying, and then they’re hugging again.

Hera doesn’t like the idea of giving up her vault key, needs to know she’s got that security in case something goes wrong. This means that when Molly asks for it, so she can pick up any last minute items that Hera may have forgotten, she just goes with her instead. Molly doesn’t question it, instead making it a girls day with Hermione and Ginny as well. Hera is a long way away from trusting authority figures enough to hand things like that over without a thought, but she likes that Molly forgets she’s not just like one of her children sometimes. When they come back from their shopping trip, Ron can be heard complaining already.

“Mum, I think you gave me Ginny’s dress.” Ron stated, looking quite confused as he held up some sort of lace covered maroon monstrosity.

“No, those are your dress robes. They’re on your list.” Molly insisted. “Robes for formal occasions. Your father’s got some for smart parties.”

Before Ron could object any further, and she could see that he was going to, Hera snatched them from him.

“They’re not that bad. The lace is coming apart, but that’s an easy fix. I’d have to tailor it to you. That’s an easy fix too, and I think I can tone down the colour a bit, so that’s not a problem either. I feel like maybe a dark blood garnet might be more your shade.” Hera stated, as she looked the robes over, before starting up the stairs. “Come on, Ron. You’ve just volunteered to be a dress dummy.”

“I don’t want to be a dress dummy.” Ron objected petulantly.

“Should have thought of that before you started complaining then.” Hera retorted, no sympathy, already set on dragging him along.

Fred and George start snickering.

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you.” Ginny warned sagely. “Who knows? You might be next.”

The two looked at her with new light, and a dawning understanding came upon them as they turned to each other, before bolting from the room.

* quote is from Survival is a Talent by ShanaStoryteller

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

1994/4^th year

The Weasley parents were dropping hints all over the place about what was supposed to happen this year, which of course drove everyone other than Hera nuts. She already knew, sharing a secret sort of smile with Molly before getting on the train herself. George, Fred, and Ron were all trying to pull the information from them. It didn’t help that Bill and Charlie kept egging them on either, obviously knowing what the secret was. The station was a bit of a madhouse this time, so Hera got onto the train quickly, having never been a fan of large crowds like that.

“If you promise not to tell the other students how you know, I’ll tell you what they’ve been hinting at.” Hera says, when the train left the station. “Molly knows that I know, and didn’t say I couldn’t tell you once we got onto the train.”

“Well, come on then.” Ron insisted, playfully poking at her side. “What is it?”

“The Tri-Wizard Tournament.” Hera announced. “It’s why you’ll need those dress robes, Ron. They hold a Yule Ball.”

Ron looked pale for a moment, but other than that, didn’t react. Only Hermione perked up.

“The Tri-Wizard Tournament?” Hermione asked. “How did you hear about it?”

“Goblins. Resided at Gringotts for a time before heading to the Burrow.” Hera admitted. “They’re excited about it, being a warrior culture themselves. Apparently the tournament was stopped because of the high death toll, but they’ve put in a bunch of new rules to try and make it safer.”

“Th-Think you’ll enter, Hera?” Neville asked, nervously, obviously thinking about how dangerous such a tournament was.

“No. I plan on enjoying a nice quiet year, where I get to watch other people risk their lives.” Hera stated contentedly. “Won’t that be nice for a change?”

Hera’s news had let them bypass whatever bragging stint Malfoy was trying to pull when he stopped by. Ron played it cool, like he’d known all summer. His dad and brother were in the Ministry after all. Fred and George just marveled at him, unable to speak, and Malfoy left in a huff when he didn’t get the reaction he wanted. Pigwidgeon had been eating up all the attention that the girls could give him, and Hera had let Hedwig out of her cage at that point, which meant that Hedwig was trying to groom the excitable minute owl with varying degrees of success.

When the announcement came that night after the sorting feast, Hera and the others on the Quidditch teams were outraged that Quidditch would not be continuing on as normal. She’d been hoping that the teams would carry on, where most of them weren’t really of age to try for the tournament. On the plus side, she got to meet Colin’s even more excitable little brother Dennis, who’d fallen into the lake and had to be fished out by the Giant Squid. To hear him tell it, it was the greatest experience of his life. She thinks he’ll get along fantastically with Hagrid, and tells him so. The boy looked nigh ecstatic at the proclamation.

...

It’s in the middle of Dumbledore’s speech that a deafening rumble of thunder sounded through the air. A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black travel cloak. Hera froze the moment she saw him, her danger sense pinged again, too much like the Quidditch World Cup. Lightning flashed across the ceiling, as if to herald him in, revealing a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair.

A dull clunk echoed with every other step he took down the Great Hall. Another crack of lightning, and his face was brought into sharp relief as he took down his cowl. There wasn’t a single bit of his face that didn’t have a scar on it, but his eyes…his eyes were what were truly frightening. One was small, dark, sharp and piercing. The other was a wildly moving thing, large and round as a coin, and vivid electric blue.

“We need to come up with a new level.” Hera whispered under her breath. “Something above Quirrellmort, but below the Wraith of Voldesniff, because that’s what I’m looking at right now.”

“Harry, you can’t be sure that-” Hermione objected, but Hera cut her off.

“I was right about Quirrell, Lockhart, and the rat.” She snapped, though more out of panic than anything else, and Hermione held her tongue. “Please, just give me the benefit of the doubt, and trust that I’m right.”

“The Mad Eye?” Ron suggested, looking rather deep in thought as he took another bite of shepherds pie. He really was getting better about his table manners. “We’ll think of something. That’s Mad-Eye Moody, a retired Auror, one of Dumbledore’s oldest friends. What’s he doing here, and why would he rate on your odd danger sense thing?”

“No idea.” Hera admitted.

Once Moody sat down and started eating, making sure to smell the food first to check for poison, Dumbledore got back to the announcements. Of course, this Moody was their new DADA professor. It was the Triwizard Tournament, however, that caught everyone’s attention. None of the Quidditch teams had been pleased to learn they wouldn’t be playing this year, and Hera resolved to try and talk to the captains to see if they could still come up with something. Just because the rest of the school was going tournament mad didn’t mean that Quidditch should have to suffer.

When they got their schedules, they compared to see how best to manage the time. Ron stuck with her in Divination for the easy grade. Hermione had opted out of that one, wanting to focus on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, which Hera had stayed with as well, though they had both dropped Muggle Studies. Herbology was bound to be interesting, and she was glad she’d chosen to partner with Neville instead of Ron for it; While she was good at the subject, no one was better than Neville. It was when they began walking to Care of Magical Creatures that she began to wonder. There was always one class where something happened, though usually that was DADA; Care of Magical Creatures had made a valiant effort last year.

Hagrid was standing outside his hut as they neared it, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boar hound, Fang. Several open wooden crates were on the ground near his feet, and an ever curious Fang kept straining to look into them. As they neared, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, followed by tiny explosions. Hera, Ron, and Hermione all exchanged worried glances. It was no secret that Hagrid liked dangerous ‘inneresting’ creatures, and the three were rightfully worried about what they’d have to do for damage control this time.

In Divination, Ron had to separate from Hera, something he had not been prepared for. She’d talked with Professor Trelawney before the end of last year, and now she had a good chunk of space she’d be using for her loom weaving. She’d learn the rest of Divination with them, but more often than not Professor Trelawney would have her focused on her loom. As it turns out, Hera had quite the talent for it, and the Professor was having the time of her life calling in experts from around the world to guide her. Now, if only they could get the woman to stop predicting her death, that would be nice.

A bad feeling had settled into her stomach for the last two days, and Hera couldn’t place why until they walked into DADA. Everyone had been talking about how amazing Moody was, how he just knew what fighting the Dark Arts was all about, but Hera couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong about the man. Normally, she would sit with Ron and Hermione in this class, but today she sat near Neville. Unable to shake the feeling that this was where she had to be, Hera had followed it. The other two take their seats at the usual table, and wait for class to begin, occasionally looking back to check on her.

“So – straight to it. Curses.” Moody declared, after having checked the last name on the roll call. “They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you counter curses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, reckons you can cope, and I say the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. So…do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?”

That sinking feeling Hera had was getting worse, but so far nothing was happening. Several hands rose into the air, including Ron and Hermione’s. Moody points to Ron first.

“Er…my dad told me about one…” Ron said tentatively. “…The Imperius Curse, or something?”

“Ah, yes.” Moody acknowledged appreciatively. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time.”

Moody rummaged around in one of the desk drawers, and pulled out a glass jar that contained three large spiders. Hera immediately looks to Ron, knowing her friend had a deep fear of spiders. Without warning, Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it out in the palm of his hand so that they could see it. He then pointed his wand at it, and muttered. “Imperio!”

Neville was suddenly stalk still, as if realizing where this was going to go. His hand was in her own without a word said between them. She didn’t look down at it, didn’t question it, just lightly squeezed back. Somehow this was going to hurt him, she knew. She just didn’t understand how yet.

The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk, and began to swing back and forth as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Hera was pretty sure neither she nor Neville were breathing. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance. Everyone else was laughing – well, everyone else but Moody.

“Think it’s funny, do you?” He growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?”

The laughter died away almost immediately. It was only just beginning to sink in what he was telling them.

“Total control.” Moody continued quietly, as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…”

Neville started trembling.

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse.” Moody said. “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was just acting. The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll teach you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

Moody put the somersaulting spider back in the jar, while everyone else tried to put their hearts back in their chests.

“Anyone know another one?”

To everyone’s eternal surprise, Neville raised a hand next.

“There’s one – The Cruciatus Curse.” He said in a small but distinct voice.

“Very good. The Curciatus Curse.” Moody nodded, before getting another spider from the jar and pointing his wand at it. “Engorgio!”

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula.

“Crucio!”

At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body. It rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. Neville’s fingernails were now digging into her skin, he was squeezing so hard, and Hera felt distinctly ill. No sound came from the spider, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t hear screaming in their minds, imagined though it was. Moody never let up the spell, and the spider started to shudder all the more violently for it.

“Stop it!” Hermione shrieked, having seen how pale the two had gotten. “Stop it!”

Moody did so, reducing the spider to normal size, though it still twitched on occasion.

“Pain.” He continued, as if he hadn't just traumatized them all. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse…That one was very popular once too. Anyone know what the last one is?”

Hermione shakily raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“Avada Kedavra.” She whispered.

“Ah.” said, Moody. “Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra…The Killing Curse.”

The last spider in the jar tried to run when Moody made to grab for it, but as it was in a jar, it didn’t make it for long. It was placed on the desktop, and when it started trying to scuttle away.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A flash of blinding light and it was dead, not a mark on it.

“Not nice.” Moody continued, as if he didn’t notice the shock he’d put his students into, walking through the classroom. “Not pleasant. And there’s no counter curse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and she’s sitting right in front of me.”

If looks could kill, Moody would have been dead, because at that moment Hera very much wanted to kill him. She hadn’t known what that flash of green in her nightmares had been. She knew now. If he said anything else, she didn’t know it. When the bell rang, both she and Neville were out the door faster than lightning.

Somehow, even though they’d all seen the same thing, most everyone else was amazed at the lesson. They were talking about it like it had been some fantastic show, but not them. Neville couldn’t stop shaking, and Hera couldn’t get the flash of green out of her head. Ron and Hermione were with them a moment later, but neither one got to ask what was wrong. An odd clunking noise sounded behind them, and they turned to see Professor Moody limping towards them.

“It’s alright, sonny.” He said to Neville, in what could only pass as a low growl…his attempt at being calming, no doubt. “Why don’t you come up to my office? Come on…We can have a cup of tea…”

Neville looked frightened at the very thought of tea alone with the Professor, and that was all Hera needed to know before she quickly shoved him behind her.

“I don’t think so, Professor.” Hera stated, coolly. “You’ve done quite enough, thank you.”

“Now there’s no need for that kinda tone, lass.” Moody insisted as he stepped forward, only to end up with a wand in his face.

“Step away from my friend.” Hera demanded. “I will not tell you again.”

“You think you can take me on, girly?” Moody asked. She had the distinct impression he was amused by this, but she couldn’t tell because of the snarl his face always looked like it was in.

“They won’t find enough of you to fill a matchbox.” She warned without hesitation, wand still raised. “Care to try your luck?”

There were various gasps and squeaks behind her, but the only thing that mattered was keeping the gaze of the man in front of her. At last, Moody took the step back.

“You’ve got spunk, lass. I like that.” He nodded approvingly. “You’re going to need it. Now go on, and take care of your friend. I suspect you’ll handle it better’n me anyway.”

Only then did she lower her wand, but she didn’t leave. Professor Moody took the hint, a slight smirk on his lips, and left on his own. Only when he was out of sight did she hazard to leave with her friends. Every so often, she would look over her shoulder. No one talked till they got to the Great Hall. She sat them with their backs to the wall with Neville next to her, while the others of their year slowly began realizing something was wrong with the pair of them.

“Are you okay, Neville?” She asked quietly.

“Y-yeah.” The boy replied shakily. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I’ve been having nightmares with that green flash of light for years, only I didn’t know what it was.” Hera admitted.

“It’s worse when you know.” Neville sighed in agreement.

“The Cruciatus?” Hera hazards a guess.

“It’s why Gran raises me. Mum and Dad are at St. Mungo’s. They were tortured with that spell till their minds broke.” Neville continued quietly. “Some things are worse than death.”

No one knew what to say to that.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

There were days when her job was rewarding, where she saw understanding dawn in the eyes of her students, and they were able to appreciate the magic she taught. Today was not one of those days. Hermione Granger had bolted into her classroom, talking a mile a minute, pleading with her to come quick to the DADA classroom. Minerva could only imagine what kind of chaos Alastor had caused this time. She’s not even sure what she was expecting when she arrived, she just knows it isn’t this.

Hera Potter had Alastor Moody at wand point. The man was currently tied up like a Yule tree, face as red as it could be. Hermione went over a rapid fire explanation of what had happened, and the rest of the students tried to help, resulting in a cacophony of noise that explained nothing. What Minerva really wanted to know was Hera’s point of view. If it’s what she thinks, it was no wonder the girl had attacked her professor.

“Miss Potter,” Minerva began calmly. “Would you mind telling me why you have Professor Moody tied up like a prized hog?”

“Professor Moody showed us the Unforgivables yesterday.” Hera replied casually, as if commenting on the weather, not taking her eyes off of the tied up professor in the floor. “Today, he thought it would be a good idea to try them; on us. I disagreed.”

If anything, the girl glared harder at Moody, who was still struggling to break out of the bonds.

“Why isn’t he talking?” Minerva wondered.

“I may have silenced him. I cast a shield charm to protect us, but he shattered it and went on the offensive. I had to silence him to cut down the strength of his spells, disarm him, and conjure ropes to tie him up. It was the only way to get him to stop without killing him.” Hera admitted, her eyes darting to Minerva for only a fraction of a second before returning to Moody. “I warned you, Professor, not to come after my friends. I warned you what would happen if you did. I could peel the very flesh from your body, the very meat from your bones like this, you know. What was it you said when you cast the Imperious Curse on that spider yesterday? Jump out a window? Wouldn’t like it if it were you? As it is, I think I’d have the strength to cast at least that one, and it’s not like you could stop me.”

“No, but I can.” Minerva pointed out quietly, gently getting the girl to lower her wand. “I understand you defended your peers with cause, Miss Potter, but perhaps you should leave the threats and disciplinary actions to those of us who get paid for it, hrm? It’s the little things in life that really help us enjoy our jobs.”

Hera begrudgingly let go, and gave Alastor’s wand to Minerva.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Alastor?” Minerva asked, after reversing the silencing charm.

“She got me good!” Alastor cackled happily. “I’ve never seen anything like it! I’d recommend her for Auror training right now if I thought she’d let me talk her into it!”

“As it is, Alastor, I don’t see you talking her back into this classroom!” Minerva scolded. Using his wand, she floated him out of the room. “Class dismissed, I suppose. Follow me, Miss Potter. You get to help me explain this mess to the Headmaster.”

After that mess, she began training Neville on how to duel. It was mostly just to build up his confidence to hold his wand without dropping it. His grandmother was a right piece of work, that woman, allowing that great-uncle of his to do all those things in the hopes the boy would produce magic. No wonder Neville had an inferiority complex and low self esteem issues. She’d realized long ago that the Dursleys were child abusers, and that Dudley was just as much a victim as her in his own way; though that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a bully, or that she forgave him for everything he'd done.

Now she was working on Neville to get him to realize that what his great-uncle had done to him was wrong, that it was wrong for his Gran to have allowed it to happen, and that Trevor the Toad was a sorry arse excuse of an apology gift for it all; beloved Familiar or not. She’d even taken to casting calming charms on him before Potions, so that he wouldn’t be so nervous when handling volatile ingredients; Professor Snape almost caught her at it once. He’d taken House points, but she just smiled innocently and cast the charm on Neville again when Snape’s back was turned. She was working on Hermione to learn flying; not for the love of Quidditch, but because it was like swimming. People learned to swim just in case it was ever needed. While the girl could see the practicality of her statement, she did not trust her instincts the same way Hera did, but every practice produced progress.

She worked on Ginny to try out for reserve Seeker, should she want. It had not escaped Hera’s notice that Ginny had been nicking her brothers’ brooms over the summer. She encouraged Colin and Luna to start a school newspaper, though that was still in the works; Dennis was really looking forward to it. On another note, it wasn’t looking like Sirius was going to be well enough mentally to take over custody, no matter how much he took his potions or went to mind healers; but the two were getting along much better now. Hera knew that she had tried to push him into something that his mentally scarred mind was not prepared to handle, Sirius having been in Azkaban for a little over a decade, and so had absolved Mr. Malfoy of the Life Debt that he had taken on from Draco; Sirius was free, and working on his mental issues, which was really all she could ask for.

It wasn’t long until the delegations were to arrive, and for some odd reason this meant they had to clean the castle. It made Filch happy, at least, which begged the question. Why didn’t they help him more often? She’d never seen him do a stitch of magic, so there had to be something. Was that why he was so bitter all the time? Surrounded in a school of magic, unable to do any himself? She'd be bitter too, if that were the case. With that thought in mind, she stopped sweeping the floor, and made to find Filch.

“Mr. Filch?” She called, after knocking on his door, peering in cautiously.

“What are you doing in my office?” Filch demanded with a sneer. “Don’t think you’re getting out of your cleaning duties just because you’re not in detention.”

“That’s not it, I swear. I want to show you something.” Hera insisted, before closing and locking the door behind her. “It’s important for privacy. I’m sure you understand.”

“Not directly, but go on.” Filch grumbled, regarding her with suspicion.

Hera lit a small flame in her hand, and held it out to him. She’d read about this in one of the earliest magic books in Salazar’s study.

“It’s not for heat, just for light. You can even pass your fingers through it without it hurting you.” Hera stated, gently holding it out now. “Would you like to hold it?”

“Nothing fishy? No pranks?” Filch demanded, narrowing his eyes at her.

“No, sir.” She insisted. He reached out for it with uncertainty, but held it in his palm nonetheless. When she eventually let go of it with her magic, it sputtered for a second, but held true. “I don’t believe it. You can do magic. Why do you never use it, Mr. Filch?”

“What? I can’t do magic. I’m a squib.” Filch insisted, embittered.

“Mr. Filch, that flame you’re holding is relying on your magic to keep it stable. I’m not supporting it anymore, haven’t been for the last few seconds.” Hera corrected. Filch blinked at her for a moment, and went back to looking at the flame in his hands. “It’s a test they used to use to show if a child had magic or not. The flame isn’t very big, so you might not have enough to really register for a school; bit of potions, household things, nothing fancy. It might be why you never got a letter, but you can do magic.”

“M’ too old now.” Filch muttered, despondent, letting the flame die out. “’S no use.”

“You’re never too old to learn something, Mr. Filch. People should make a point to at least learn one new thing every day, no matter how old they get.” Hera insisted, causing him to look up at her. “Ask Dumbledore, or Professor McGonagall. See if one of the professors will work with you, and if they won’t, I will. I don’t know much, what with only three years of schooling and all, but I can at least get you started.”

“You…You’re serious, aren’t you?” He asked, sitting back in his chair. “I can do magic?”

“You saw the proof of it yourself.” She insisted, before drawing herself up. “Now, I’ve got to get back. I imagine the others will wonder where I’ve gone, and there’s a lot of castle to clean even with magic. If they’re going to insist one man can clean this castle alone, I’ll eat my shoes. You should have a cleaning crew of your own.”

“A duel?” Minerva asked with a tired sigh. “Is that really necessary?”

Once again, Alastor was complaining/bragging? about Hera during the staff meeting. Once again, Hera had defended her friends from what Minerva suspected was another one of Alastor’s attempts to introduce his students to the Unforgivable Curses. It wasn’t just her class either. Hera and some of the older students had taken to training everyone in the Gryffindor Common Room on how to cast shield charms, even the first years; perhaps especially the first years. Upon hearing that Professor Moody wanted to cast Unforgivable Curses on the first years, the other Houses began training in shield charms too. They were lucky Howlers weren’t descending upon them all for this.

“The students need to know what the spells feel like. They need to know what’s out there. They need to be prepared.” Alastor insisted stubbornly. “I can’t do that if she’s shielding them all!”

“Strangely enough, Alastor, children are supposed to feel safe at school.” She snapped coolly, glaring at him.

“Feeling safe won’t keep them alive.” He countered.

“Now, now, Minerva, Alastor has my utmost faith.” Albus stated peaceably, though his expression looked pinched.

“So did Gilderoy.” Minerva countered succinctly.

“And Quirinus.” Pomona added under her breath.

“At least Lupin didn’t attack the students outright…this time.” Severus drawled, more than a little bitter.

“Severus, you know my feelings on that matter.” Albus warned, eyeing the man.

“I suppose we should bring up Miss Potter then?” Filius inquired, getting them back on track.

“Yes, she and two of her friends are waiting.” Albus agreed with a soft smile. In a moment, the three students were cautiously walking up the stairs and into the staff room. “Thank you all for coming.”

“We did, however, only request Miss Potter.” Minerva pointed out with barely hidden amusement.

“Like we were going to let her come alone.” Hermione snorted. “She actually tried to sneak past us to get here.”

“I told you I’d be fine.” Hera muttered, sounding embarrassed by the situation and fond that her friends cared so much for her. “There are even other adults here and everything.”

“Like that matters.” Ron pointed out.

“What exactly are you implying?” Severus demanded snidely. “That we would-”

“This man has stalked us through the hallways, attacked us when our backs are turned, and you all have done nothing.” Ron snapped back, cutting Severus off. “Why would we think now would be any different?”

“Alastor?” Minerva demanded, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“Dark Wizards don’t wait till they’re in a classroom setting.” He grunted, as if it were obvious. “They need to know.”

“Teachers do, or at least they should.” Filius scolded. “Albus, you cannot let this continue.”

“Now I’m sure we can convince Alastor to ease up on the student populace.” Albus insisted, eyeing the man in question. “This is not what we agreed on when I hired you, Alastor.”

“Didn’t think it mattered much if it kept them alive.” Alastor sniffed dismissively. 

“It matters, Alastor.” Minerva scolded. “We can’t have you attacking the students.”

“How is it exactly that you think a duel will solve this?” Severus added, arching an eyebrow at the man. Looking at Albus’ face, it became clear he hadn’t wanted that little detail to get out, having hoped that he could talk Alastor down on his own.

Suddenly from outside the staff room, they hear.

“What do you mean they went in with only three of them?”

“That’s what I said. Only three.”

“What were they thinking, going in with only three?”

“Completely outnumbered!”

“How unsportsmanlike.”

“Couldn’t have said it better.”

“Well, what are we going to do about it?”

“Only one thing to do.”

“I’d stand back if I were you.”

Which was the only warning they got right before the door hit the floor with a resounding thud, and the three students were pulled out of there so fast it was as if they had been summoned.

“Can’t believe you, Hera.”

“Going into a staff meeting like that with only two other people to look after you.”

“She was going to go alone.”

“ALONE!”

"It wouldn't be the first time."

“Well, that does it.”

“Can’t trust her with anything.”

“Going to have to keep an extra eye on her at all times now.”

“I was fine!”

“Oh yes, so fine in fact that Professor Moody was in there discussing challenging her to a duel.”

“That’s not what I would call fine, Hera.”

“Okay, so it wasn’t fine exactly.”

“Well, then what would you call it?”

“Uh…Tuesday? Today’s Tuesday, right? Let’s call it that.”

“Tuesday, she says.”

“Hera, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but it has been categorically proven that the adults of this school can not or will not protect you.”

“That is, if they aren’t actively trying to kill you.”

“Therefore, it is up to us.”

“No more going to meetings with adults without knowing the number in attendance.”

“That way we can bring equal representation.”

“Or more.”

“Definitely more.”

“That wasn’t a courtroom!”

“Really, because that’s what it was beginning to look like in there.”

“Guys, really, I was fine.”

“Sure, you were.”

“We’re coming with next time.”

“And the door?”

“Like they can’t fix that with magic.”

“Or without. It’s not like muggles don’t know how to repair a door.”

“You don’t have to protect us all the time, Hera.”

“Yeah. Sometimes, like now, we get to protect you.”

It struck Minerva all at once that they were right. No matter what she tried to do, or how much she argued with Albus, it wasn’t enough. Poppy kept the girl filled to the gills with nutrient potions because she couldn’t get her away from her abusive relatives, had raged against Albus to get the girl away from those people, but the man hadn’t budged. She knew that when Severus gave the girl detention for things, it always came with a lesson of some kind, though always in his acerbic style; whether it was ingredient prep, equipment maintenance, or potion brewing. Filius, Pomona, along with Minerva herself always tried to give Hera a bit extra instruction when they could, but even they knew it wasn’t going to help the way she needed. It just hadn’t dawned on her that other students would see it and take action.

The day the delegations arrived, the teachers had everyone lined up to meet them. Things that had never mattered to the teachers before were being called into question now. By the time that everyone was organized enough, the stars were out. Ron was already complaining about food, and Hera couldn’t really blame him. She still couldn’t believe they hadn’t gotten in trouble for the door breaking thing, but she could see that it had had an effect on the entire faculty; she just wasn’t sure why.

The delegation from Beauxbatons came in large powder blue carriages hooked to horses the size of elephants; Abraxons, she learned later. Madame Maxime was by far the tallest ‘biggest boned’ woman Hera had ever seen, and she wandered what it would be like for Hagrid to talk to someone he didn’t have to crane his neck down to look at. It was also clear to see that the students, all older teens, had not dressed for the weather. Hera didn’t blame them one bit for heading straight into the castle, considering it’s exactly where she wanted to be at this moment.

Durmstrang’s delegation’s arrival was far more interesting, but Hera still had questions. How did it even get in the lake in the first place? It just rose up like some sort of behemoth the giant squid let loose into the world. Water is pouring out from everywhere. When the students exit the ship via plank, Hera just blinks at the absurdity of it all. Every student there is tall, broad shouldered, and stocky. What were they feeding them?! She’s vaguely aware of the two headmasters exchanging pleasantries, but didn’t realize one of the students had come over to speak with her.

“Potter?” The older boy called her attention to him. “May I haff vord?”

“Krum?” Hera realized.

“Ah, good. Vas not sure you vould remember me.” Krum insisted with relief. He also looked distinctly uncomfortable, which may have had something to do with Hogwarts and company staring at them. “Did not get time at Cup, but vanted to congratulate you on catch. Those children are vell because of you.”

“Oh! Erm…” Hera struggled to come up with something to say. “Thanks? I’m sure anyone else would have done the same.”

“Maybe anyone else vould have tried, but not many could haff been able to make catch like you did.” Krum allowed, giving a small bow, quietly adding. “I do not think I could haff.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 19

“I don’t believe it!”

“It’s Krum! Victor Krum!”

“Oh, I don’t believe it, I haven’t got a single quill on me –”

“D’you think he’d sign my hat in lipstick?”

...

“Really.” Hermione muttered scathingly, as they passed by the girls bickering about lipstick. “You would think we were raised by savages at this rate.”

“It’s no better than how they were reacting to that poor Veela girl.” Hera groused, and then began mimicking Ron. “They don’t make them like that at Hogwarts.”

“Oi! I do not sound like that.” Ron objected, blushing in embarrassment.

“You did.” Hermione corrected.

“Yesterday, in fact,” Hera added, for clarification. “and this morning. Not to mention this afternoon, or five minutes ago, when we passed her in the hall.”

“I wonder what his mother would say if she knew.” Hermione pretended to ponder, tapping her lower lip with a finger.

“Ah, come on, don’t bring Mum into this.” Ron whined.

“Then don’t act like a heathen.” Hera shrugged, before both girls smacked him up the back of the head.

“No mercy between the two of you.” He harrumphed. “I swear.”

“Someone’s going to try to murder me with this thing, I just know it.” Hera sighed, as they listened to the explanation of the TriWizard Tournament and the Goblet of Fire. “Bets?”

“Moody.” Ron nodded. “It’s always the DADA professor.”

“Could be one of the visitors though.” Hermione suggested, helpfully. “Plus, Professor Lupin was safe enough.”

“Any chance of me having a nice quiet year?” Hera tried, hoping they would agree. Their faces didn’t suggest as such, especially when Dumbledore mentioned ‘ability to cope with danger’, and her shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“Potter watch?” Colin suggested from down the way.

“Potter watch? What even is that? Why would you-” Hera began, suddenly alarmed.

“Because if I wanted to kill you now, I’d just put your name down for the death tournament, and then rig it so it picks you. No muss, no fuss, minimal effort.” Hermione interrupted her, already digging for her quill, ink pot, and roll of parchment. “You’re going to need witnesses to prove you didn’t have a chance of entering, or getting someone else to do it for you. It likely won’t matter, but it will be important for evidence purposes.”

“Fred and George are going to try to enter, if they can get past the age line.” Ron chuckled.

“Dibs on taking them to Madam Pomfrey after?” Hera called out.

Lee shot it down though, with a shaking of his head. “I’ve already called it. What time are you putting me down for Potter watch, Hermione?”

“I haven’t drawn a timetable yet, so I’m taking suggestions. Write what time you think you can help.” Hermione replied. “I’m going to go around the room.”

She did too.

“I don’t believe it. She’s actually…” Hera trailed off, seeing a good chunk of Gryffindor sign the thing.

“It’s for your own good, Hera.” Neville nodded sagely, as he patted her shoulder. The traitor.

...

“Of course, I’ll sign, Hermione.” Luna replied dreamily, when Hermione crossed over to Ravenclaw to ask. “It’s for her own good, really.”

“I do not understand.” One of the girls from Beauxbatons commented. “Why does zis girl need watching?”

“Hera attracts trouble because of who she is.” Luna admitted, as Hermione went around the table for more names. “All she’s ever wanted is a nice quiet boring year at school where nothing bad happens and no one tries to kill her. I don’t think she’s managed it yet though.”

“But why specifically does zis girl require watching now?”

“Oh, we’re worried someone will try to enter her into the contest in an effort to kill her without actually doing anything, because of course they will.” Hermione clarified. “This is for alibi purposes, so we can all vouch that she was with at least one of us, and didn’t have a chance to put her name in or get someone else to do it. She’s only fourteen.”

“Oh dear…How many signatures do you need?”

...

“What are you doing over here, Granger?” Draco asked with a sneer. The girl looked completely nonplussed by his attitude, and it was infuriating.

“I thought it would be a gag to come over here, and see who would volunteer for Potter Watch.” Hermione retorted, completely deadpan. It took him a moment to process that.

“You think someone will use this as a way to try and have her killed.” He realized. “…because of course they would. Fuck it. Yeah, put me on there. Blaise and Theo too. I want to see if we can give our Head of House a heart attack when he sees her in the Common Room.”

“You want to…” Hermione starts, before thrusting the quill and ink pot at him, and then bursts out laughing. “Oh, it’s worth it, just for that! Any other suggestions?”

“You won’t believe me.” Draco warned, but she waited. “Pansy.”

“Parkinson?” Hermione wondered, in fascinated disbelief. “Really?”

“Ever since she noticed Potter’s been putting little embellishments on her school robes, Pansy’s been scheming for them to have a project together or something.” Draco shrugged. “Honestly, she starts talking fashion, and I just sort of tune it out after a while.”

“Right.” Hermione nodded. “This’ll be good. Hey, Parkinson! You up for Potter watch?”

“FINALLY!”

“I think that’s a yes, Granger.” Draco chortles, completely unable to help himself.

...

“Vill they say no to volunteers from Durmstrang?” Krum asks when Granger is gone.

“I suppose not, as long as there are people from Hogwarts with her to verify.” Draco replied after a moment of thought.

“Perhaps I should help as vell.” Krum suggested, before looking to some of the others listening in. “You did not see catch she made, and before that she flew her broom straight into crowd of Death Eaters.”

“It’s Potter.” Draco waved off lightly. “I’ll believe anything you tell me. I once watched her catch our flying instructor and another student in the air, after pulling a high dive maneuver, all while laying flat on the school broom, inadvertently dislocating both her shoulders in the process. We all found out later that that was the first time she’d ever flown on a broom.”

“Vould be nice to know when she picked up Bulgarian as vell.” Krum comments as he made to head for Granger.

“Wait…” Draco mutters, before looking to the others. “Potter can speak Bulgarian? Since when?”

“What are they doing?” Cedric wondered as they watched Hermione run around the room with parchment and quill.

“Potter Watch.” Terry replied without missing a beat. “You know what her luck is like. Someone might actually manage to kill her if they can get her name in. At the rate Granger is going, she’ll have the whole 24 hours filled up before she even comes back this way.”

“Hannah’s in her year, isn’t she?” Cedric asked, as he’s getting up out of his seat to catch Granger. “Perhaps we should offer our assistance. Hera’s nice.”

“This is insanity.” Hera blurts out, seeing practically all of Gryffindor in the Common Room that night.

Nearly every one in her year, with a few above and below, had volunteered to stay up to watch her. Her declaration sends them all tittering into laughing fits. They looked like they were prepared too. There were games, blankets all over the place, and pillows of every fluffiness. She really appreciated those.

“Alright, so we have the Hufflepuffs scheduled for breakfast, and maybe some downtime, however long that turns out to be. Ravenclaw has you down for some time in the library after that. Beauxbatons asked for time in the afternoon, so we’ll be taking lunch with them. Not really sure what they want to do after that, if anything. Then Durmstrang suggested a tour of the ship, and something of a surprise, they said. We’ll probably be eating dinner with them.” Hermione read off from her finalized scroll. “After that, Slytherin wants second night watch. I think they want to see if they can give Professor Snape a heart attack, and Pansy has fashion ideas she wants to dig into your brain for. Malfoy put in the suggestion of a Poker night. Then we’ll just sit with Gryffindor again at breakfast before the choosing of the champions. Also, there are a lot of people who want to know how you know Bulgarian and French.”

“And Gaelic.” Seamus piped up. “Sometimes, when I’m missing home, I’ll hear you whispering to yourself in Gaelic.”

“Seamus…I don’t know a lick of Gaelic…or Bulgarian and French, for that matter.” Hera denied, dumbfounded by this new information.

“Zabini swears up and down he’s heard you cursing in Italian in the library.” Hermione shrugged.

It was Ron’s suggestion though that surprised them.

“Maybe it’s like the parseltongue thing, something you can do without knowing that you can.” He remarked, thoughtfully. “No one would think to even suggest it, because how rare the ability is, and would just assume you knew a lot of languages. You read almost as much as ‘Mione does, so it would be a safe bet.”

“Seriously?” Hera objected. “How do we even test something like that?”

“It’s not like Seamus hears you talking in Gaelic all the time, just when he’s thinking about it.” He explained. “So all he has to do is think of it, and then you say stuff.”

“Has anyone else heard me speak different languages?” Hera demanded, a little hysterical, her eyes widening as at least seven people hesitantly raise their hands. “Bloody hell.”

“Imagine it though, that’d be dead useful to have. You could travel anywhere.” Angelina marveled. “I’d kill for something like that for homework.”

“I don’t think it would work on books though…” Hermione pondered, but saw Hera grimacing in realization “…would it?”

“There isn’t a book in that library I haven’t been able to read.” Hera admitted, fidgeting now. “…even the copied ones. I just assumed they were all in English, that they’d been translated already. What kind of ability is that?”

“I have an idea, but I’ll need to do some research.” Hermione replied, already itching to get started on said research. “Let’s test out the talking part first though. Seamus, start thinking Gaelic.”

Thus began her night. She would wait for them to be of the frame of mind a person needed to be in, and then she’d say something. They would swear to Merlin it sounded like whatever language they had been in the frame of mind to hear. For Seamus, and surprisingly enough Lavender, it was Gaelic. Parvati could hear her speaking in Tamil. A smattering of others heard Welsh, Finnish, and Vlax Romani. She’s still not sure how it’s possible, because all she hears is English. If she tries to hear or see something in another language, like latin, it stays the language it’s in, but if she’s not paying attention, it looks and sounds like English to her. Hermione is already in research heaven because of this. She can only imagine the possibilities.

The next morning finds them all shambling down to breakfast, where Hufflepuff has arrived in mass to escort Hera and Hermione to their Common Room. Ron would have followed with, as it was rumoured that the Hufflepuff Common Room was near the kitchens, but Fred and George were going to make their attempt. There was no way he was going to miss that blowing up in their faces, and as their little brother, it was his duty to make sure he made fun of them accordingly. Colin also promised to take pictures of the attempt ‘for posterity’. Professor Sprout only stopped by once to make sure that Hera and Hermione were comfortable, and left the kids to it.

Hufflepuff’s Common Room was exactly what Hera had hoped it would be. It was warm and comforting, filled with soft light from the windows, and the smell of clay and cinnamon. Hera had always found that to be a comforting smell, and so approved. According to Hogwarts: A History, via Hermione, it was intended to smell unique to each person, in what ever way made them feel the most at home. Cedric goes out of his way to make them both feel welcome, and Hannah is kind down to her bones. It was nice to see just how inventive the lot of them were, and more than a few were sporting what they affectionately called Hermione’s ‘beaded bags’.

...

Ron finds them in the library with the Ravenclaws. Hera is literally drawing diagrams in the air like it’s parchment, occasionally talking and looking back distractedly as she does so. Several of the ‘Claws are furiously taking notes, while others are asking questions. It’s a good thing there’s a sound dampening field around them, or else Madam Pince would have been over there. Ravenclaws could get pretty loud when they were talking theory, and this lot looked like they were in full swing.

Luna is off to the side, but Hera doesn’t let her stay there. Instead, the girl proudly displays the moon frog earrings she’d been working on. In retrospect, they were a brilliant bit of magic; little crystalline sparkly frogs that would occasionally make little ribbit sounds. In response, Luna brought out this hulking monstrosity of a lion’s head as a hat from a beaded bag that looked like Hermione’s. It roared, which was just bloody cool. He may have also noticed that when Luna talked about the Nargles stealing things, a few of the other Claws would look away guiltily; which Hera took advantage of by discretely hexing them with something karmic, he was sure. He was more surprised when Hermione added her own measures as well.

“Hey, you two ready to head over to the Beauxbatons carriages?” Ron asked, when it looked like the diagrams where fading.

“I think I’d like to come along too, if that would be alright.” Luna mused.

“You want to come with us to the Durmstrang ship too? I’m fairly certain they’ll love your lion hat.” Hera nodded, before thanking the Ravenclaws for hanging out with them. “So, how bad was it?”

“They grew beards longer than Dumbledore’s. You'd think that would be the end of it, but then they immediately started French braiding them while waxing poetic about the ‘good ole’ days, complaining about their aches and pains, and pointing at all the rest while demanding the 'whippersnappers' need to learn to respect their elders.” Ron replied with a grin. “Dumbledore showed up, and you would have thought Christmas had come early when he complimented how fine a beard they each had.”

Hera snorts. “Figures.” and heads to hand in the books she’d checked out before.

He gave Hermione a questioning look, to which she just patted her bag. Good.

...

The Beauxbatons carriages were much larger on the inside, which explained a lot considering that they’d carried more people than should have fit in them. Madam Maxime is delighted when she discovers the speaking ability Hera seems to possess, because it allows her to relax into her native language and not have to worry that she won’t be understood; Hera will understand. Hermione knows enough French to add to the conversation nicely, and Ron doesn’t speak much as he is busy sampling the snacks on offer. The students hear that Hera likes to cook and is interested in the magical culinary arts, and suddenly she’s getting a practical hands on education on how to craft French dishes with magic. It’s a learning experience, so Hermione jumps in like a champ, and soon there’s a group of them crafting quite the lunch.

They learn to ride Abraxans. Hera’s never ridden a horse before, winged or otherwise, but she knows enough about animals not to disrespect them. They aren’t quite as picky as hippogriffs, but they are proud creatures nonetheless. Hermione even chances it, though she makes sure one of the older students is with her. Ron is a lot more confident here, flying being something he’s comfortable with. By the time they’re supposed to be heading off to the Black Lake to meet with the Durmstrang students, Hera’s still writing down book suggestions for learning the magical culinary arts as she goes, and some of the students come with her just so they can keep talking.

...

Hera is vibrating, she’s so happy. Hermione had secretly brought the Firebolt, which makes sense when Victor Krum offers to go over several Seeker moves with her. Madam Hooch is nearby for safety reasons, but otherwise lets them carry on as they like. Krum spends time explaining and demonstrating each move before backing off for her to try them. It was the kind of training she hadn’t been able to get from Wood because he wasn’t a Seeker, and Charlie hadn’t been able to take the time during his visit.

They do take dinner in the ship, which Hera is quick to ask about their culinary arts course and sea shanties. The Durmstrang students had traveled here by ship, after all. If they didn’t use at least some of the travel time to sing sea shanties, they’d wasted an opportunity there. Hera notices that there is always one of the older students nearby, or several, who’s sole job seemed to be distracting their Headmaster from getting too close to her. It seemed a particularly difficult task, as Karkaroff was frequently trying to butter up to Krum as some form of favoritism, no matter how uncomfortable it seemed to make him.

Victor was surprised to learn that Hera did not know Bulgarian, especially considering he heard her speak it whenever he thought of it. To have an ability like that without even knowing it was…a rare thing indeed. He understood a bit better when she explained that she was raised by a pair of muggles that didn’t like magic, and so pretended it didn’t exist all of her life in the hopes that she would not end up here. Hera discovered that he secretly hated that all anyone wanted to talk about with him was Quidditch, which she really should have expected; the fact that she had not did not offend him though, considering she also did not treat him with the star struck level of hero worship that everyone who met him did. It was something he was glad for when he spoke to her, Luna, and Hermione; Ron had tried to hide his hero worship of the older boy, but he wasn’t all that successful at it, though he got better as the evening wore on.

...

When it was finally time to be passed off to the Slytherins, Victor came too, along with an assortment of Beauxbatons students, Luna, Hermione, Hanna, Colin, Fred, George, and Ron. She was actually really proud of Ron for working to put away his dislike of Slytherin for this. He must be taking this Potter-watch thing pretty seriously. It had been a wild day so far, and it looked ready to continue when Draco stood waiting at the entrance for them. She couldn’t wait to see if Ron’s newfound patience could handle the arrogance of a Malfoy.

“It’s about time, Potter. Everything’s set up in the Common Room for poker night, and sometime tonight Pansy will kidnap you for fashion things.” Draco sniffed by way of greeting. “I will not be rescuing you from that.”

“Wait. He’s really going to let me in there?” Hera asked, puzzled.
“I believe the phrase ‘Better to ask forgiveness than permission’ applies.” He replied, with a mischievous grin. “Don’t you?”

“Words to live by, really.” She agreed, with a wicked grin to match.

Chapter Text

Last time...

“I believe the phrase ‘Better to ask forgiveness than permission’ applies.” He replied, with a mischievous grin. “Don’t you?”

“Words to live by, really.” She agreed, with a wicked grin to match.

Chapter 20

A strange sight greeted him upon entering the Common Room to do the usual checking in. Hera Potter, along with a few Weasleys, a Granger, a Lovegood, a couple of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs he didn’t recognize right away, and one tiny Creevey. Somehow, there was also a smattering of Beauxbatons students and a Durmstrang or three. He was sure that Karkaroff would be trying to find his prize student soon. What concerned Severus most at the moment was that the Common Room had been turned into some kind of gambling den, only instead of money or chips, there was a large bowl of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans in the center of the table. They all looked quite serious about it too. How strange.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He demanded in the cold drawl he knew they expected from him. “This is not your Common Room, Potter.”

So he is completely floored when all he gets is that damned Potter smirk ^TM, as she replies. “No, but it could have been.”

He barely managed to keep his stoic expression in place. “…what?”

“I had to beg the hat to put me in Gryffindor.” She replied, impishly.

“Same.” The Weasley twins chime in at once.

“Me too.” Granger admitted shyly.

And wasn’t that just the revelation for Slytherin as a whole? The-Girl-Who-Lived should have been in Slytherin, as well as the Terror-Twins. Even The-Girl-of-the-Sentient-Curls, one of the nicer things he’d heard them call Granger, should have been a Slytherin. The Weasley Twins would have been fine, but this bunch of Slytherin had no subtlety, and he could not say whether or not Potter or Granger would have lasted here before now. Severus didn’t know for certain that they would have put Slytherin above the blood status their parents drilled into them from birth.

“And what are you doing here now?” He reiterated, not dwelling on the revelations.

“Poker. Cheat if you want. Get caught if you’re stupid. Loser with the worst hand eats a bean.” Potter relayed, which explained the bowl of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, before pinning him with that damned Potter smirk. “Want in?”

“Are you challenging me, Potter?” He prodded, arching an eyebrow at her. He was pretty sure there wasn’t a single breath being taken in all of Slytherin House right now.

“Why?” She grinned. “Can’t handle it?”

“You’ll regret this, you know.” Severus commented, sitting down at the table with the others.

“I could surprise you.” She replied, smirk still in place. He didn’t have the heart to tell her she already had.

...

It’s late into the night now, and he’s pleasantly surprised she’s a decent Poker player. She can’t cheat worth a damn, or that’s the impression she gives, but he can’t read her either. Most of the others had already passed out at the table, though Granger was making a passable attempt at staying awake, and he didn’t believe the twins sleeping act for a second. Seeing as Potter was looking to be down for the count, he decided to call in for reinforcements, and summoned a pot of coffee from the kitchens. The stuff might as well have been turpentine or sludge, but it would do.

“Drink this, Potter.” He ordered, pouring her a cup and sliding it over.

“I’m pretty sure just breathing that in will put hairs on my chest, and as I am of the female variety, I might not want that.” She replied with snark, already sipping on the sludge. “Have you ever considered brewing an Invigoration Draught with this as the base instead of Honeywater?”

“One would have to be particular about what kind of bean to use, I suppose.” Severus remarked thoughtfully. “Perhaps a hearty espresso bean? There are several strains from which to choose.”

“Are you already suggesting my fifth year project, Professor?” She asked with an air too innocent to be believed.

“I’ll make it your fourth year project if you don’t rein in the cheek, Potter.” Severus snorted, causing Granger to let out a sleepy giggle. “I know you throw your potions grades.”

“Like you would have graded me fairly.” She snorts, eyeing him over her cup of sludge. “Our new…cccelebrity.”

“Fourth year project it is then.” Severus commented, before moving to take a bean; only to be caught by surprise when the girl lashed out and grabbed his wrist. Unable to pull himself from her unusually strong grip, he tried again. “What are you doing, Potter? This won’t end well, whatever your plan is.”

“I’ve been wondering what the strain on your magic is, and I think I get it now. You have a Vow attached to you…and a Life Debt?! No wonder Malfoy tried threatening me first.” She remarked as if she hadn’t heard him. “There’s something I don’t understand though.”

“And what would that be, Potter?” Severus drawled, not expecting much, still quite unnerved in general.

“Why are they attached to me?” Potter wanted to know, focusing on the sleeve of his shirt as if she were trying to see through it. That didn’t matter though, only the news she had given him.

“What?” He asked for clarification, trying to keep his voice light. “The Vow is not attached to-”

She made a motion with her free hand, and he felt a sharp tug on his magic, shocking him into silence.

“You were saying?” She asked, taking a moment to look up at him over glasses he was fairly certain she didn’t actually need, before focusing on his arm again. “I don’t understand though. Usually it’s the wrist for a Vow, why the arm?”

“You do not know what you’re-” Another tug.

“This reeks of Dumbledore…Oh, I see. He was the bondman, and so has some sway over the Vow. You must have went to him for help, and he demanded a price, a vow; except it didn’t bind you to him, it bound you to me somehow.” She muttered.

“How did you know that he was the bondman, or that I even went to him for help?” He stalled, going over the defenses in his mind. She had not breached them, hadn’t even attempted to pry into them.

“I can see magical signatures if I focus, and Madam Pince needs better security measures over the Restricted Section. It’s not even a challenge anymore.” She admitted dismissively. “If it’s attached to what I think it is, I might be able to remove it. I don’t know that it will work on anyone else, not without study. Maybe that will be a fifth year project.”

“What are you on about now?” Severus demanded, trying once again to free his wrist from her without success. “You have no idea what I’ve done.”

“Is it attached to the Dark Mark?” She asked, then looked up as if suddenly realizing how invasive she was being. “It’s just that…If it is, I might be able to get rid of it.”

“No one has ever managed that, and believe me, I’ve tried.” Severus sneered.

“Normally no, but I’ll need another repentant Death Eater to test that out on later. You, I might be able to help now. The Life Debt is attached to me. The Vow is attached to me. If I overload it, free you from the debt and vow, I might be able get rid of the mark with a domino effect.” Potter explained, looking back up at him. “It could work, but would you be willing to give it a shot? It’s a risk. I’m just a fourth year. Just because I can see the magic, doesn't guarantee that I’ll be able to manipulate it properly, but you might not get another shot at this.”

She was right. No one was awake now besides them, not counting the Weasley Twins. Granger had nodded off at some point after the giggle, and he wasn’t sure when the youngest Weasley boy had fallen asleep. If he was going to do this, it had to be now, but could he take the risk? What reason had he ever given her to trust him? Still, he would feel better about deciding at all if he had a bit more freedom of movement. Her grip lessened as she began to let go, perhaps sensing his hesitation and need for space. He quickly latched onto her wrist to stop her, however, knowing that if she did that he’d never agree to what she was willing to attempt.

“I’ll need a verbal confirmation, Professor. Magic won’t accept anything less, and considering what I’m about to attempt is experimental as shite, I think it’d go a long way.” Potter reminded him. Considering how nervous she was, he’d forgive the language.

“You’re sure this will work?” Severus asked, expecting confidence even now.

“Not in the slightest.” Was what he got back, of course.

“Why not? Sure, go for it.” Severus agreed nonchalantly, as he unbuttoned the sleeve with his free hand. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

...

“We could both die.”

...

She’d waited till his magic had confirmed his acceptance before saying that, and then there’s no takesy backsies. He looked absolutely horrified that she would even attempt this, knowing what she could lose, causing the Vow and Life Debt to start reacting; which is why she’d waited till just that moment. She needed them charged up and active when she attempted this, but it was also why it could kill them both. It was a hell of a good thing that Hermione and Ron were asleep, and that the twins hadn’t broken their obviously fake sleep act to try and stop her, because it would kill her if they attempted such a thing now.

The Life-Debt was the easiest to push into overloading, and so it broke first. All she’d had to do was gently push her magic into it. With her magic forgiving the debt, and his magic’s acceptance of her plan earlier, she knew the moment he felt it give; the sheer relief he felt was palpable. The feedback from it fed into the Vow, but it demanded more. It demanded evidence.

“The wording of the Vow, what was it?” She demanded, pinning him with a glare. “No time to be squeamish now, Professor. Out with it.”

“I’m the one…I’m the one who heard part of the prophesy…told the Dark Lord…He assumed it meant Lily, but…” Professor Snape was crying, overwhelmed by magic and pain. Holy shite, this was such a later problem, she didn’t even know how to process that. “I had asked him to spare her…knew he wouldn’t…Went to Albus…If he could protect her…I had to try…He demanded the Vow…Protect you when you reached Hogwarts, and he would protect your family…He would keep them safe.”

“Ah, there it is. That certainly explains why the Vow is frayed.” Hera realized, latching onto the frayed like thread of the Vow. “You might want to put up a silencing charm. This is gonna hurt.”

The-no-longer-faking-sleep Fred and George heeded her words, knowing they’d meant for them and not the Professor. Had he attempted magic at the moment, not so very great things would be happening to them. Professor Snape hid his face in his arm in an effort to further muffle the pained sounds that came from him. There was no going back now, and there was a reason she’d warned him it would hurt. Because Albus had not been able to keep his end of the Vow, though he’d still kept this man to his end of it, Hera could claim the right of retribution.

Her magic would turn angry, vengeful, hurtful. Through it, she sought out the frayed edges of magic in the Vow itself. Some she untangled as gently as she could, while others had to be cut out entirely. She could vaguely hear him screaming into his other arm, but thankfully she was the only one. She was pretty certain the entire castle could have felt the Vow break, and a part of her hoped that it hurt Albus as much as it hurt the man in front of her; He’d made the Vow in her name, after all.

“Oh, what the unholy fuckening is this?” Hera exclaimed, feeling the magic of the Dark Mark around her. “This magic…this is in my forehead…this shite is in my forehead…I can’t…Oh dear God!…I-”

“…Potter!” Professor Snape interjected weakly, sensing her emotions were about to get the better of her at a rather inconvenient time. “What…What do you need now?”

“Right. What do I need now?” She muttered to herself, before nodding in confirmation and thanks. “Explain how that bastard gave you this.”

“There was…hissing.” Professor Snape admitted, shakily, too far into his pain to react to her cursing. “I could not understand the words.”

“Can you show me the memory somehow?” Hera asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“You’d have to let down your mental shields in order for me to even make the attempt.” He refused, and he must have seen something of the confusion in her face. “You’re a natural Occlumens?…You shield your thoughts without trying. Letting someone in now…not a good idea.”

“We wing it then. No problem.” Hera replied with all the fake confidence she could muster. “There’s a picture of a snake on here. I could try talking to that.”

...

“…What?” Severus asked weakly, only to be shocked into silence again by what he saw.

Hera Potter was glaring at the snake on the Dark Mark with the kind of concentration that few could claim to possess, seeing into layers he wasn’t sure most Masters could reach, simply because no one had told her it wasn’t possible. She’d all but laughed in his face when he’d tried. He had not expected her eyes to become a ruby red reminiscent of the Dark Lord in his later years, and yet somehow entirely different, more like blood garnets. When she started hissing, Severus was reminded of the dueling situation in her Second Year, when she’d hissed at a King Cobra. He might not know what she was saying, but he knew that she was angry, could see the literal fire of it in her eyes as she tried to cast the magic out.

“It’s okay, Potter,…you tried.” He insisted as he gasped in pain. “It’s enough that you tried, more than…I don’t deserve-”

“No, it bloody well is not!” She declared, clamping down on his wrist before he could make another attempt to wriggle free. “This leaves now!”

She began hissing at the magic within the Mark with renewed fury, and he could feel it begin to seek avenues of escape, only to find none. She had somehow pooled all the magic of the mark from his veins and back into the actual mark itself, and walled it off from the rest of him. In no way was he prepared for her to open her mouth wide, springing forth fangs (had she had those before?!), before jerking his arm towards her by the wrist and sinking her fangs quickly into his arm. When she let go, the fangs disappeared entirely, but Severus was a bit more focused on the sentient like sludge that was oozing out of his arm. The girl quickly tossed out the coffee sludge she’d been drinking, caring not where the splash went, and shoved it under the wound to collect what was coming out of his arm before it could hit the table.

That’s when he noticed, the more sludge that came out, the lighter the mark became. She made motions with her fingers, using her magic to pull more and more of it out of his body. That’s when another strange thought popped into his head. She hadn’t used her wand for a bit of this. He couldn’t fathom it, and continued watch until the mark was completely gone.

Only then did she use her wand to tap the cup, sealing it and making it unbreakable. Severus blinked in disbelief as she calmly stood up. She certainly didn’t look like she could. A stiff breeze would topple her over, he was sure of it. Fred and George Weasley were by her side in seconds, as if they had expected it as well.

“We need to get them to Madam Pomfrey.” He hears. Fred? George?

“I vill take Professor. You take Hera, and you take the cup?” Krum was awake? Fuck. “Vould recommend floating it avay from you. Does not seem like something ve should touch.”

He was aware enough to know that his other arm had been draped across the Buglarian’s shoulders, as his waist was held, and they began moving.

“Floo...in my office.” He managed.

“Vouldn’t recommend it vit sludge.” Krum countered. And yeah, okay, he can agree that sounded like a bad idea.

“Potter…wandless…whole time?” He asked, looking to one of the Weasley twins.

“Yeah, the whole time.” They answered quietly.

“But-”

“We know.” They cut him off.

“That shouldn’t be-”

“We know, Professor.” Fuck it. He’s going to call this one Fred. “She doesn’t seem to understand how rare it is, and we haven’t said anything to alert her. No one talks about it, and no one has said anything to the professors. She’s too important.”

“That’s-”

“We know, Professor.”

“Watch…Keep her safe.”

“We will, Professor.”

That hadn’t been what he’d meant to tell them.

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Watch…Keep her safe.”

“We will, Professor.”

That hadn’t been what he’d meant to tell them.

Chapter 21

“What the bloody hell were you thinking?” She hears, and groans in protest as she rolls over to hide from the world with the covers over her. “Oh, no you don’t.”

The covers were suddenly gone, and after a surprised squawk she blearily opened her eyes only to realize that Professor Snape was in the…Where was she? Oh, the hospital wing...again. Hera looked around in uncertainty. Why was Madam Pomfrey allowing this? Any other time it would be different. She’s fairly certain that woman would have driven him out by now, so what gives?

“She’s stalling the Headmaster, which gives us time to talk.” Professor Snape replied, almost as if he’d read her mind, but he said he couldn’t do that. “Did you know that would happen?”

“Eh…Sort of?” Hera admitted. “Hadn’t really planned on approaching you with it till I did more research, but the opportunity was too perfect to pass up. It worked, right? I was kind of out of it there at the end, so-”

“Why would you think to research it at all?” He demanded with a harsh tone.

“Your magic felt…wrong, but not like Voldesniff or Quirrell; more like it was straining against something else.” Hera admitted, sitting back against the propped up pillow at the headboard.

“Why would you help me?” The Professor asked stiffly. “I’m the bat of the dungeons, if anyone asks, and it’s no secret how I’ve treated you.”

“You’ve gone out of your way to make people think you hate me, and to try and make me hate you.” She pointed out. “It was weird. Didn’t feel right. Uncle Vernon actually hates me, so I know what genuine hatred feels like. Figured you were blowing smoke out of your arse. It didn’t help that every detention I have with you is a learning experience. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I’ve made you clean the foulest cauldrons I have with a tooth brush, and harvest dung beetles” He countered. “during their mating season.”

“I’ve cleaned worse things out from under Aunt Petunia’s kitchen sink.” She remarked, equally unimpressed. “Why do you think I never complained when you gave me something gross to do? Whatever you’ve got, whatever you’re already planning to try and top it with, she’s outdone you.”

“If you would consider it, I would offer you an apprenticeship.” Professor Snape admitted, much to her surprise. “However, I’m not sure you would accept it.”

“Why would you even offer?” Hera asked in confusion.

“Magic like yours needs guidance. You’ve been mucking about, breaking into the Restricted section at all hours, but there’s only so far self study can take you before something backfires, and last night felt like one of those moments that could have backfired if your instincts had been wrong.” Professor Snape pointed out.

Rude, but fair. They weren’t wrong, she knew that, but they could have been.

“If I apprentice with you, I’ll have to transfer to Slytherin.” Hera countered, frowning. “I won’t be a Gryffindor anymore.”

He just arched an eyebrow at her.

“I won’t be able to play Quidditch on the House team anymore, and Malfoy and I sort of have this friendly rivalry going on.”

He kept the eyebrow arched, and Hera slumped.

“My friends in Gryffindor would hate me.”

“Miss Potter, if you think anyone in Gryffindor will hate you after that disgustingly blatant show of school solidarity and international cooperation the other day, then I don’t know what to tell you.” Professor Snape drawled sardonically. The other day? How long had she been asleep? “When I cautiously broached the subject with your House, I had no less than three requests for a resorting. It is obvious they were willing to follow you, but I have to believe they have a true knack for the House. The entire House of Gryffindor tried to jump ship for you, but alas, not all of them managed it. If they had, then Minerva would have had to forfeit the House Cup to me.”

“At least now we know why you really want her as an apprentice, Severus.” Professor McGonagall noted with a strained sort of amusement as she strolled into the room. “Has she decided yet?”

“Why do I get the feeling like there’s a time crunch I don’t know about?” Hera asked, suddenly filled with dread. “Also, you sound supportive of this.”

“There is, and I am. As Deputy Head Mistress, I am in charge of helping Albus run the school, but I tend to defer to his judgment even when I know I shouldn’t.” Professor McGonagall stated, an unspoken apology in her eyes, which Hera nodded to in understanding. She didn’t have to like it, but she understood, and forgave the woman that had tried to look out for her regardless. “With what you did, you’ve freed Professor Snape from his Vows to both He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as well as Albus, even when none of us knew he was under them in the first place. He hadn’t been able to even speak of them before. Now, he could act where I can not, if you agree to be his apprentice.”

“We call him Voldesniff or Snort-a-wart.” Hera offered. “He was on the back of Quirrell’s head and all. Think of the dandruff. What if he had to scratch his nose?”

“Potter, this occasion calls for something of a more serious manner.” Professor Snape reminded her.

“You would be okay with me jumping ship?” Hera asked, looking at Professor McGonagall worriedly.

“This is more important than the House Cup.” The woman replied. “Your friends in Gryffindor understand.”

“I would not be a father to you, Potter, but I would be a guide, if you accept. I will be able to help you make legal decisions, decisions that you will need to make very soon.” Professor Snape added, hinting that time was of the essence.

She looked to her professors, wondering just what was going on, when it hit her all at once. Despite having the best alibi the schools could give her, something had gone wrong. They’d known it would, and still they’d done it. Somehow, she was in trouble. If her friends really would understand, then what did she have to lose? Some had already jumped ship, knowing this. Hera was nodding her head before the words were out of her mouth.

“I’ll do it. I’ll agree to be your apprentice.”

Professor Snape quickly grabbed her forearm with the arm she’d freed of the mark, and Professor McGonagall muttered an incantation under her breath as fast as possible as she made the minute wand movements needed.

“We’ll have to do the Apprenticeship ceremony later, but the binding is in place, Severus.” Professor McGonagall stated quietly.

“Binding? You didn’t say anything about binding!” Hera panicked. “You were just free before. Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Potter, both of those choices were made when I thought there were none available to me, when I had backed myself into a corner of bad choices of my own making, through no one’s fault but my own.” Professor Snape stated as he stood up. “I make this one now, because I am finally free of them; to make a good choice for once.”

...

As the last of his words fell, the door to the infirmary opened, and in walked Poppy. She’d done all she could to stall, he could tell, but now his turn had come up. Dumbledore walked in first. Flanked soon after by Karkaroff and Madam Maxime. Ludo Bagman followed after, along with Barty Crouch. The Champions that had been chosen came soon after them; Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts, Victor Krum for Durmstrang, and Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons.

While all the Champions looked sympathetically at his new charge, the adults did not seem to be, and a part of him wondered if this is how she saw things all the time. Who was he kidding? Of course, she did. It’s why her best friend had asked all the kids for help, even from the other schools. Not one adult was asked to help, though several had looked in on them all just to be safe, because they weren’t trusted. Over the last three (going on four) years, the adults of this world had consistently proven that they could not or would not protect her, and yes he knew that he was a part of that.

“Hera, I must regrettably inform you that your name came out of the Goblet of Fire during your time in the infirmary…” Albus informed her when he drew close enough, but then he suddenly stopped as if noting something had changed, and then looked to him. “…What have you done?”

“That was me.” Potter chirped impishly. Oh, she was going to enjoy this then. “I may or may not have-”

“-accepted my offer of Apprenticeship.” Severus interrupted. They’d have to talk about what she did later, and decide if it was information to be shared. For the moment, only Minerva knew that the Dark Mark was gone, and her Occlumency shields were solid.

“I’m sure he’ll learn a lot from me.” She continued without missing a beat. Minerva looked away to hide her smile. The traitor.

“As I am her Master now, I have legal right to represent her, such as in the matter of her unwilling inclusion into the Tri-Wizard Tournament.” Severus reminded them all. “You know what else that means, Albus.”

“We will talk about this later, Severus, though I wish you had come to me before offering such a false hope to the girl. I’m afraid that it can not be allowed to stand. As her legal guardian-”

“-A fact being contested by the Goblin Nation.” Potter muttered behind him.

“-I can not allow this to continue.” Albus insisted.

“They consulted me, and I agreed on your behalf, Albus. There is nothing further to discuss.” Minerva spoke up. “This gives her the best representation while giving you impartiality in these matters. As she was in Gryffindor, I should have become her temporary guardian, as I do for Muggleborn in legal matters. Surely, you know this. You trust me to make these sorts of decisions on a student’s behalf, after all, and Miss Potter is no different.”

Severus could see by the stubborn tilt of Albus’ jaw that they had won for now, but it wouldn’t stand without argument later.

“What is important now is that Hogwarts has a second Champion!” Karkaroff snapped, bringing them back to point while being a complete imbecile. “I demand all my students get to submit their names!”

“Can I back out?” Potter asks. “That’d be great, considering I didn’t enter. I have proof coming out of my ears, witnesses from every school who can pinpoint me at any given time, and Pomfrey for when they can’t. I have photographic evidence from Colin for most of that time, and I think even Dennis helped out with his own camera when his brother couldn’t be there.”

“You would be forfeiting your magic!” Crouch Sr declared, but was stopped from continuing when Potter held up her hands like the scales of Justice.

“Eleven years of living as a Muggle verses three years of magic. I can survive without magic. I’ve kept up with my Muggle schooling. That doesn’t scare me.” She replied nonchalantly. “What else have you got?”

No one seemed to have an answer for that. Only Karkaroff had been angry that her name had come out of the Goblet, like she’d meant for it to happen. The others were just perplexed that their students’ plans hadn’t worked, though Albus looked subtly fit to be tied over the fact that his custody of Potter had been circumvented by Severus and Minerva. The students were hovering around the girl now. It needed to be said, he knew, but he didn’t want to be the one to say it.

“There’s no guarantee, but…It could kill you.” He informed her, keeping his voice low. “If you don’t compete, the backlash from the Goblet of Fire could kill you, and you might just as easily die from the tournament anyway.”

“Great. Just great.” She mutters. “Someone trying to kill me, year four. Perfect.”

“It eez as we feared.” Fleur sighed, patting her on the shoulder. “We will ‘elp you.”

“No. You can’t, or else your magic might get taken too.” Potter objected stubbornly. “How many of you can say you could live without magic with the level of certainty that I just did?”

“But it’s not-” Cedric began.

“-What? Fair? Who says life is fair? Where is that written?”* She interrupted, sternly. “I can’t accept your help. You’re Champions.”

“She’s right. Ve can not help, not that I think she vill need it.” Krum agreed. “She is formidable in her own right.”

“She eez only a child!” Fleur objected now.

“She’s The Girl Who Lived.” Krum countered sternly, and turned to girl still sitting on the infirmary bed, giving her a slight bow. “I vill be doing my best. I suggest you do the same.”

“As if I would give anything less.” Potter replied with a slight smile, returning the bow as best as she could from her spot in the bed, though it ended up looking like a slight nod. Krum smiled and left, being fussed over by Karkaroff. “Fleur, I’ll be fine. This is my normal. I’m not even surprised. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Zeen I too will give my best.” Fleur vowed as well, and left with Madam Maxime.

“It would still be a Hogwarts win if we helped each other.” Cedric insisted, hopeful.

“And how is that fair to the other schools?” Potter shot him down, causing the boy’s shoulders to slump. “You had better come at me with everything you’ve got, Diggory, because you can bet I’ll be doing the same, and I’ll be a lot more ruthless about it than you.”

“You would do that?” Cedric asked, puzzled.

“Cedric, I am two or three years younger than you. I’m already going to be fighting an uphill battle. You’ll be fighting for the school, which is great, but I’ll be fighting for my life. Which of those things do you think is more motivating?” She countered, and understanding dawned in his eyes. “So give it your best, yeah? When I kick your arse, I want to know it’s because I’m the best, not because you took it easy on the kid.”

Despite himself, it caused Cedric to laugh, and give a slight bow. “Then my best you shall have, my lady.”

“Go be sickening with Chang.” Potter snorted, waving him off. The boy blushed, but laughed as he walked off.

Now only Albus, Minerva and himself was left with her.

“Albus, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get Potter situated in her new room, along with a few other converts.” Severus supplied smoothly, bringing her to his side. “We’ll have quite the busy day, I’m sure.”

...

It slowly began to dawn on her just how bad this was going to get as he took her down into the dungeons again. She walked with him in a daze. If anyone said anything to her, she didn’t notice. It wasn’t until she’s camped out on a settee with a tin of biscuits and a cup of tea in front of her, that she comes back to herself. She felt out of it, even so.

“Potter, if you need a minute to yourself…” Professor Snape began.

“No. No, if I have a minute to myself right now, I’ll curl up into a ball and never come out again.” Hera shook her head. “Best to get the decision making started now. I can cry later.”

“The Contract the Ministry came up with in regard to the Goblet of Fire, backed by Goblins, so no loop holes I’m afraid. Feel free to check it yourself.” Professor Snape informed her, handing over the contract, not expecting her to suddenly brighten at that.

“Every contract has loopholes if you know where to look. The fact that it’s backed by Goblins makes it all the better, because they’ll ruthlessly hold you to them.” Hera remarked as she started reading. “They’re going to love this.”

“May I ask why?” Snape asked, from his seat across the coffee table.

“Goblins are all about wording in a contract, and though they could have nailed Dumbledore for dropping the ball where I’m concerned, the wizarding world would have refused to acknowledge the suit, because the wizarding world at large thinks the sun rises and sets in that man’s arse. It’s why the goblins have been drawing things out with their charges against him, getting Dumbledore as much bad press as they can manage.” Hera explained, as she hastily read further into the contract. The professor stilled as he watched the shark like grin that began to slowly cross her face, much like that of a Goblin’s but without the sharp teeth. “There you are.”

“Dare I even ask?” Snape inquired warily.

“Almost at the beginning of the contract. I’d actually skipped over it initially. Only an Of Age Witch or Wizard.” Hera replied smugly, but when she looked up it appeared he didn’t yet understand. “The Ministry wrote in the stipulation that anyone who competes must be an Of Age Witch or Wizard, yet they are demanding I compete or lose my magic and possibly my life, despite knowing that I am not. By Right of Magic, if I agree to compete, they are acknowledging me as an Of Age Witch. If the Goblins agree, then there’s nothing the Ministry or Dumbledore can do when they get their knickers in a twist about it, because by their own behest, they’ll have to acknowledge me as a fully fledged adult with all the power and responsibilities that entails, which means titles, holdings, and-”

“Properties, which would certainly solve your living situation. Many such places will have wards stronger than anything that the Ministry would approve of, and the Goblins will be only too happy to add to them.” Snape realized. “Well done, but might I suggest a trip to Gringotts in the near future? If there are any surprises in the woodwork, you should know about them now. You’ll need to be fully emancipated, regardless of what magic says, possibly because magic says it.”

“I need my beaded bag. It has everything I’ll need in it.” Hera insisted.

“We will gather your things soon.” Snape replied. “In the meantime, we should go over what the Apprenticeship will entail. Apart from helping you prepare for the Tournament, you are no longer allowed to throw your potions grade, as I will be holding you to a higher standard than I do even that of Miss Granger. (He gives her a pointed look here) By the time your Apprenticeship is over, you will be a Master in as many subjects as I can train you in, which means that your classes will change into something more…robust. Filius and Minerva have both suggested ramping up your studies. Sybil has already been secretly training you far past what Hogwarts has on offer.”

“And DADA?” She inquired.

“By the time we’re done, you’ll be able to nail that Auror to the wall, should you choose.” Snape promised. “Or at the very least, sit for your OWL’s and NEWT’s early.”

“I was thinking about taking him up on that duel he’s so keen for.” Hera admitted.

“We can train for that too.” He agreed.

“And the billowing robes?” Hera asked, cracking a grin now. “Can I learn that too?”

“I must be allowed some secrets, Potter.” Snape replied pointedly, but she just did her level best Snape’s brow impression, and he sighed. “Very well. If you can successfully brew Polyjuice Potion to such a degree that even your voice sounds like your intended addition, I’ll teach you how to get a proper billow to your robes.”

* Quote from Princess Bride

Chapter Text

Last time...

“And the billowing robes?” Hera asked, cracking a grin now. “Can I learn that too?”

“I must be allowed some secrets, Potter.” Snape replied pointedly, but she just did her level best Snape’s brow impression, and he sighed. “Very well. If you can successfully brew Polyjuice Potion to such a degree that even your voice sounds like your intended addition, I’ll teach you how to get a proper billow to your robes.”

Chapter 22

“This is insanity.” Hera blurts out, seeing them all gathered in the Common Room when they head up to gather her things.

It felt like the whole of Gryffindor was in that room, and all of them began chuckling as soon as she had spoken. However, none of them seemed angry. She’d expected them to be angry. She was, a part of her felt like, ditching them for Slytherin. Granted, it was the House that would protect her best now, but this was the House she’d found herself in, the House she’d made her first friends in.

“We’ve got you a parting gift.” Wood insisted, bringing Colin to the forefront. The younger kid was holding tightly to a box anchored down by twine. “Colin told us how much you’ve been paying him for photos of everything. We decided to make a project out of it, and did the same.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Hera managed to get out in a squeak.

“I should be. You’re taking my Beaters with you.” Wood replied, pretending to be cross for all of a second. Fred and George popped up next to him, bags already packed.

“Neither of you are subtle.” Hera feels the need to point out in objection. “At all.”

“Sure we are.” Fred disagreed genially.

“So overt, it’s covert.”* George followed after.

“We’re offended you-” Fred

“-would think otherwise.” George

Both were grinning like mad by the end.

“I’m coming too.” Hermione informed her promptly.

“M-me too.” Neville insisted, making his way to them.

“Hermione I get, but Neville? You came to Gryffindor to be close to your parents.” Hera objected. “What will your Gran say?”

“If she wanted to know what I thought about things, maybe she should have listened to me when I was screaming for help on that balcony instead of constantly comparing me to her worse-than-dead son.” He insisted stubbornly. She tried talking, but couldn’t do more than a gaping fish impression.

“Ron?” Hera hesitated to ask, not wanting to sound hopeful, already knowing that she was going to fail miserably at that.

Ron smiled ruefully, but shook his head. “I tried, but I’m just too much a Gryffindor to change the hat’s mind. Besides, if you can get on the Slytherin team, we might get to play against each other next year. That could be fun.”

“Beater?” Here, she couldn’t help but be hopeful.

“Together with Gin, we’re almost as scary as the twins.” He admitted.

“More than.” Ginny cuts in with a grin.

“You can’t leave!” Colin sudden cried, dropping the box, and rushing to hug her. “You can’t! If you leave, they’ll all go back to thinking I’m annoying, and complaining about my camera again!”

“Colin?”

“I tried! I tried on the hat!” Colin sobbed, having latched onto her like a limpet. “It wouldn’t let me change Houses!”

Hera looked to Professor Snape in confusion and panic, unsure of what to do or say, as she tried to placate a crying Colin.

“I told you. Practically all of Gryffindor House tried to convert for you.” Professor Snape explained quietly, some unreadable emotion in his eyes.

She looked to the rest of Gryffindor House, and saw all the confirmation she needed. Even Professor McGonagall looked misty eyed in the background. It hits her all at once, these people really all tried to jump ship for her. A strangled sort of sob came out of her then, and then she really was crying, returning Colin’s hug as she could. They didn’t hate her. They just wanted her to be safe. How could she have ever doubted them?

He’d bowed out gracefully when Albus came to him and spoke of his concerns for the girl. In reality, Sirius had known that his getting custody of Hera was a long shot, but for her to just…give it up like that, to acknowledge that she knew he wasn’t going to be well soon enough to really help her…He had no words for that. She’d not given up on him, just his ability as an adult to take care of her, and damn it if that didn’t rankle. Hera was still talking to him, still wanted to get to know him as her godfather, but her opening up to him about how truly scared she was…that was new.

She’d told him about the Tri-Wizard Tournament being hosted at Hogwarts, how all the schools students supported her to such a length that it was incontestable that she had ever entered herself, but she was still being forced to compete. It’s why Snape offered the apprenticeship, apart from some things she vaguely hinted to that she didn’t want to write down on paper yet. Think what he would about the git, Snape was lethal when he was cornered. He’d teach the girl how to protect herself and make her enemies wish they’d never gotten up that morning. There was a time or two he’d certainly managed it with them, four against one though it had been, and he was really trying not to think about that last part too much. Ugh, maturity.

She was a Slytherin now, and he didn’t know what to think about that. What would James and Lily have thought about that? Would they have cared? Would they have just supported her? She’d had to argue the hat to put her in Gryffindor in the first place. James would have thought it was funny, a snake hiding in the den of lions, and Lily had been friends with Sni…Snape for years. He just couldn’t get over his brother, and his whole rotten family being in that house. Oh, but her verbally lambasting him in front of Remus brought back memories.

Magic didn’t care about distinctions such as Light or Dark, he knew that. Magic cared about intent and power. What did you intend to do, and could you back it up when the price was to be paid? Hera said she’d had to kill two or three people, or at least made the decision that lead to their deaths; most likely the DADA professors. What was her price, or had that been theirs for something they’d done? Hera was wrath and vengeance after all, not a woman to be trifled with or scorned; both the goddess and the young girl.

When he got the letter, when she’d admitted how scared she was that this time someone was going to succeed in killing her, he knew what he had to do. Thanks to her good will with the goblins, he was able to pull strings with his account, and now he was in the good ole U.S. of A. Where the hell was he anyway? New York? Florida? Fuck, there was a lot of sun here. Ugh.

The man/boy he was searching for wasn’t much better than he was, completely narcissistic to hide family issues. He’d know that coping mechanism anywhere. He’d done exactly what this man was doing with his life now; drank like a fish, fucked anything that gave him half a chance, and made things explode because it was fun. Damn Wormtail for using that against him too. Remus always did say that one was going to come back to bite him in the arse one day.

He’d done his research. Tony Stark was a billionaire/genius/playboy/alcoholic/philanthropist. Just judging from the news, Sirius already knew that the guy was hardly a mature adult, not that he could fully trust the papers anymore. He’d been to Stark Industries, going through the official channels, and got the run around like he thought he would. It was time to use a little discrete magic and find him on his own. Sirius eventually found him in a bar, but at least it was lit just enough so that things didn’t hurt his eyes in here. After that, finding the guy was easy. Figuring out how to approach him was not, and so Sirius stayed where he was.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” The young man asked, walking up to him with a charming smile. Well, that took care of part of the problem. “Doesn’t matter. I’m Tony Stark! Of course, I’m sure you already know that. You look good enough to eat. How ’bout you let me buy you a drink?”

Sirius shook his hand, marveling at the bollocks on this bloke, thinking he could seduce him!

“Look, I’m not here for that-” Sirius began.

“British? That’s hot.” Stark insisted, already gesturing to the bartender.

“I need to talk to you about Howard Stark.” Sirius blurted out, before the man could say anything else.

“Howard’s been dead some few years now.” Stark clarified, knocking back the drink he’d originally ordered for him. Rude.

“I know. I was in prison till recently. Didn’t get the chance to stop by sooner.” Sirius admitted. “I’m Sirius Black.”

“The mass murdering psychopath?” Stark asked, in surprise.

“Acquitted, and wrongfully imprisoned for twelve years, thank you very much.” Sirius felt the need to point out.

“What did Howard do that you would need to seek him out now?” Stark asked, with a stern expression, what Sirius recognized as ‘the business face’.

“Friend of mine couldn’t have children, went looking around for a candidate that fit the bill and found Howard, asked for his help.” Sirius explained. The man began to grimace, already dreading where this was going. “He agreed, under the condition that he never be contacted about the kid. It’s not like they needed money or anything, being wealthy themselves, so they agreed to his condition. Thing is they’re dead now, have been for the last twelve years or so, and the kid has been living with abusive relatives on the mother’s side. The father had no family left living to take the kid in. I couldn’t take custody before because I was in prison, and can’t now because the powers that be say my mental state isn’t right enough after being in there that long.”

“So you want me to believe that I have a…a…” Stark struggled.

“A sister. Technically, she would be your half-sister, I suppose.” Sirius supplied, sliding him a picture she’d sent. It had a temporary stasis charm on it so he wouldn’t see it moving, because he didn’t know how much Stark knew yet. “Her name is Hera Potter. She’s fourteen, maybe fifteen years old now.”

“You want me to believe that I have a sister? That Howard helped a couple out of the goodness of his heart?” Stark continued, barely glancing at the picture. “Prove it.”

“How much do you know about what your father did back in the early to late 70’s?” Sirius asked him. “Besides drinking and searching for some Captain?”

“Government contracts mostly, something about a secrecy statute.” Stark replied, looking lost in thought.

“You know about magic? That makes this easy then.” Sirius exclaimed in relief.

“Magic…like Houdini?” Stark snickers dismissively. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“More like Merlin and Morgana.” Sirius replied sternly, waiting until Stark’s awkward chuckles gave way in sight of how ‘serious’ he was. That joke never got old, even when it was only in his head.

“Look, I’m glad you’re figuring out life on the outside again, but you’ve obviously still got a few screws loose if you still think magic is real.” Stark scoffed, trying to hide his unease as he rises from his seat.

“There’s a reason we believe in magic when we’re little, Stark. Some of us just never forget why.” Sirius stated easily. The man was out the door almost before Sirius even finished his sentence. “Well, that could have gone better.”

It was hours later before Tony could get his brain to stop being bothered by what the man had said to him. Howard? Fathering another child? Helping out a family? No. Couldn’t be possible. The photo hadn’t even…Had he even looked at the picture? Not really. Still couldn’t be true. It wasn’t that Tony couldn’t see his father cheating, it was that he couldn’t see the man willingly helping out a family when he couldn’t be bothered to spend time with his own.

Half forgotten memories came pulling at his mind, and he couldn’t let it rest. Getting out of bed, he went searching for his mother’s memory box. He’d never been allowed to look in it when she was alive, hadn’t had the heart to after she’d died, but he remembered his mother’s face as she lovingly stared at what must have been photographs. She never looked at them when Howard was home, never even mentioned she had them, and Tony had never said anything either. There were few things in the world that could put that kind of a smile on his mother’s face, and he hadn’t wanted to take away a single one of them, even if he hadn’t known what it was.

What he finds, he can’t believe. It sobers him up faster than any other shock he’d ever had. He quickly finds himself in the floor of his workshop with a box in front of him, staring at pictures that fucking moved. One of them was titled ‘our little blueberry’, which okay that baby was really blue, but there were other pictures where the baby was the normal pinkish color Caucasian babies tended to be. There were pictures of that man with them too, Sirius Black. Wait, had he tried to pick up a guy twice his age? Thinking more on that later. Still hot though.

Tony quickly dug out the picture from the evening before, surprised that he hadn’t thrown it away as soon as he got home. How had it even gotten in his pocket? The young girl looked younger than the fourteen years that man had said she was, focused on a game of chess she clearly wasn’t winning, but it was her hair Tony couldn’t stop staring at. That was his hair, his wild crazy ass hair, and yeah…it kind of looked like James Potter’s too. No wonder they had chosen Howard. The man had had to use copious amounts of hair gel to get that sleeked back look that Tony refused to put his hair through.

“Tony…Tony, I need you to focus, okay?”

That sounded like Rhodey. Shit. He should say something. Focus, Tony!

Tony blearily looked up at the man. “…Platypus?”

What was he doing here? Had they planned something for today? Shit! The pictures! Had he seen the ones that move?!

“Tones, what happened?” Rhodey asked, searching him for signs of injury or alcohol…something. “I haven’t seen you this out of it since your parents died.”

“I have…I have a sister.” Tony replied, still in shock. “A family approached Howard…looked enough like the dad that no one would question it…He agreed to help…wanted no contact. Mom kept pictures of the family, the baby…I never knew.”

“That’s good though, right?” Rhodes encouraged. “Family?”

“It is, but I…I may have just brushed off the only lead I have at finding her.” Tony admitted with a grimace. “The guy sounded insane when he was talking to me. I brushed him off, thinking he was completely out of it, but he talks about this girl he couldn’t take care of, insinuated that Howard was into some secret government shit, and this sister…If what that man said is true, even just the normal sounding stuff, that girl has been living with abusive relatives since she was just over a year old. Rhodey, she’s fourteen…What am I…What am I gonna do?”

Sirius wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, if anything, when he stepped out of the hotel he’d been staying in. He’d just checked out, having come up empty in trying to reach Stark through the official channels again, and was ready to go home. It hadn’t been a wasted trip. The man knew, even if he didn’t believe, but it was a far cry from the outcome he’d hoped to get. So when he turned the street corner, fully prepared to use the portkey to get out of there, he was a bit surprised to see Tony Stark leaning back against a bloody limo.

“I’m terrible with boundaries, and had Jarvis hack the camera feeds.” Tony admitted shamelessly, seeing his shocked expression. “Also, Sirius Black is a rather unique name. You weren’t all that hard to find. Mind if I buy you a drink? I swear I’m not flirting this time, if that helps.”

Sirius snorted in spite of himself.

“I was actually getting ready to take a portkey back home. Hera doesn’t know I’m here, doesn’t know anything about you, and I’d like to get back before the goblins tell her. I imagine that’s the first place she’ll go as soon as she can manage it.” Sirius replied, figuring he might as well drop some of the bombs now. If the boy couldn’t handle this, there was no way he could survive Hera. “You can come with me, if you like. The portkey’s not time sensitive or anything. Oh, portkeys are like…instant travel, sort of like riding in a tornado, and then you’re there. You may or may not spew chunks, depending on how you handle a sudden case of motion sickness.”

“Teleporting? Your people figured out teleporting?” Tony asked, in a strained voice.

“No. Apparating is more like what you’re thinking of, but international apparation is hard. Oh, Apparation feels a bit like being compressed and squeezed through a tube, and you can’t breathe, and you hate every second of it, and then you’re there. It's not exactly easy on the stomach either.” Sirius explained. “I suppose a portkey could be considered teleporting, but it’s powered by the magic put into the object instead of directly from a magic user like myself.”

“My place first then. I have to pack a bag, and then book a flight for yesterday with a soon to be very confused pilot. If I disappear, and then show up in another country with no travel plans logged, someone is bound to notice.” Tony nodded, his mind already miles away, as he gets into the limo. “You coming?”

“Thought you said you weren’t flirting.” Sirius remarks, and then barks out a laugh when Tony’s jaw drops in shock.

...

“There’s got to be a way to fix that.” Tony groaned, as they ‘landed’. He’d just barely managed to keep his breakfast behind his teeth, taking a moment to settle himself. He was glad that he'd been warned at least. “Go over it with me again.”

“Ok.” Sirius agreed. They waited a moment, and then began making their way out of the side alley to the main street. “The Tri-Wizard Tournament is a highly dangerous event that is now being held by three different international schools of magic. The Goblet of Fire is a magical artifact; very powerful, very old. It was used as a way of weeding out the weak contenders in duels, so that there wasn’t as much death as before, brought about sometime during when Godric Gryffindor killed over a hundred contestants because he kept getting challenged to duels, and duels were to the death back then. The Tri-Wizard Tournament was brought back as a way to foster international cooperation, with limitations in place so that those not of age were unable to compete, and a few other odds and ends to make it safer. Somehow, the Goblet of Fire has been hoodwinked, and now Hera’s being forced to compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

“How can an inanimate object choose contestants?” Tony asked, before being pulled into a building he’d not been paying attention to before.

“The Goblet of Fire is sentient in a way. It can read magical signatures, judge if someone has enough power to do the task.” Sirius explained, and they reached a stone wall dead end.

“Why doesn’t she just back out?” Tony asked, knowing there had to be a reason she was cornered into this mess. “It’s obvious someone’s using the tournament to try to kill her. She’s fourteen. You just said full grown witches and wizards die doing this.”

“Because the magic bound up in the Goblet of Fire might kill her anyway if she doesn’t.” Sirius explained, gravely. Well, shit. “It reads magical signatures, and it knows hers now, chose her as worthy. If she backs out, it’s likely that it won’t just take her magic as punishment for the slight, but her life as well. I have no doubt that girl tried to argue just what you’re thinking. She’s only fourteen. The only world she’s really known till a few years ago contained zero magic in it. She’d be fine if all it took was her magic, but…”

“The risk is too great that it’d take more than that.” Tony sighed, and then a thought. “What about blowing it up?”

...

“I guarantee you there are at least two people who have thought of that before you, but they won’t risk it without knowing what it would do to her.” Sirius replied in all seriousness, before tapping on the bricks in the correct pattern, watching Tony out of the corner of his eyes. It’s strange that behind all that cynicism, there’s the same childlike wonder that First Years get when being brought here for the first time. “Welcome to Diagon Alley.”

Childlike wonder gone, to be replaced with humour.

“Really?” Tony asks, through breathless laughter.

“Yes. We magicals love our puns, damn it.” Sirius defended with a grin. As they walked through the alley, he immediately realized he’d forgotten to warn him. “Don’t touch anything, don’t eat anything, and don’t buy anything.”

“I thought you said you were the fun one.” Tony pouted, but followed him closely, eyes trying to take in everything at once.

“I was once,” Sirius replied, undeterred, now guiding the man towards Gringotts. “and then I went to prison. Sucks the fun right out of you.”

“How bad was it?” Tony asks, looking over at him now. “Wizard prison, I mean.”

“I went to the worst one. Azkaban. When I say sucks the fun right out of you, I mean that literally. There are these creatures called Dementors…think floating grim reaper in a cloak but without the scythe, if you want a visual…they literally suck all the joy and happiness right out of you, just by being in your general vicinity. To add insult to injury, they can also suck out your very literal soul. You’ll still be alive, but…what’s that phrase…the lights are on, but no one’s home.” Sirius shuttered. “Still don’t know how Hera befriended a group of them.”

“Why would she have met them at all?” Tony asked, askance.

“Oh. The Minister ordered them to guard the school after I escaped prison.” Sirius sighed, then looked at Tony’s shocked face. “I’ve been acquitted!”

*Quote from the first Sherlock Holmes movie, which also is played by Robert Downey Jr. The plot bunnies suggested it, and I just could not stop myself lol

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

It had been a long and exhausting day at Gringotts, but it was finally over. She was emancipated, at least on the Magical side of things. She’d also inherited the title of Lady Potter – Head of House Potter, several vaults she was going to have to have audited, a few titles she was going to have to look into at some point, and the Potter Estate; something else she was going to have to have the goblins look into for her while she was busy with school. Dumbledore wasn’t going to be happy about that, but then again he was the one that made this all possible by agreeing to have the tournament at Hogwarts with a Potter in residence. That had just been asking for trouble right there.

She’d done the blood inheritance test, more for Professor Snape’s benefit than her own. He’d wanted it so that he could get an idea on what her magic levels were, and how best to deal with her training. She had agreed, on the condition that she didn’t have to look at it. Getting told the limits of magic is what limited magic, and she didn’t care for that. People said the word impossible like it was a rule, and Hera had specific ideas about where they could shove that rule. She was still wrestling with ‘Don’t ask questions’.

Being pinned as an apprentice was the last thing on the list to do; something that Professor McGonagall made it out for. Ragnok had agreed to send the audit of her various holdings and vaults to her vanishing box. Professor Snape hadn’t looked shocked when a glowing ethereal Grim bounded into the room, announcing in Sirius’ voice that he wanted them both to come to the Leaky when they were done. It probably had something to do with the inheritance test he kept looking at furtively and back to her, as if she wouldn’t notice that. It didn’t help that just before they got to the room Sirius told them to meet him in, Snape gave her shoulder a bracing squeeze as one does when about to face a difficult situation, something she thought highly uncharacteristic of him.

“I’m going to have to reevaluate everything I think I know about you, aren’t I?” Hera commented.

“Do try to keep my more humanitarian actions to yourself, hrm, Potter?” Snape replied with snark, as they stepped into the room Sirius had told them about; not that she made it much farther than that, stilling as she did when she was who was in the room with him.

The Man of Iron, someone she’d half forgotten about in dreams she’d not thought real till now, was sitting in the room with Sirius. He looked weird without the soft blue glow emanating from his chest. This must be before he was Iron Man, but how would she have dreamt of it if that were so? Could she have dreamt of a future and a past not her own? What was he even doing here?

“Please don’t tell me Tony Stark is actually my father.” She blurted out, unable to think of anything else to say that would cover the awkward silence that had settled over the meeting room. “I don’t think I could take it.”

Professor Snape closes the door, and the wards are locked down with a flick of his wrist.

“How old do you think I am?” Stark asked, obviously mock offended.

“Old enough to know what an STD is.” She shot back, and wow that might actually be offensive. Instead of getting angry though, Stark just bursts out laughing.

“You’ve got spunk, kid.” Stark chuckled. “Not your father though.”

“You have my hair, so you have to be family somehow. No one else should be cursed with hair like this.” Hera countered, glaring between him and Sirius and back again. “One of you explain. Now.”

So she hears the story of how her mother and father couldn’t have children; more specifically James was shooting blanks, not that she’d needed to know that detail. So they found Howard, and he’d agreed to help as long as he was never contacted again. Hera suspected they had some kind of really good blackmail on that man. They’d kept their word, contacting his wife instead, who had adored the pictures of a little girl. After Tony, Maria hadn’t been able to have anymore kids, so seeing pictures of her was the next best thing; except she didn’t get anymore pictures of Hera growing up, and with no way to reach out, she had had no way of knowing what happened to cause the sudden radio silence. Tony hadn’t known about her, not until Sirius Black came calling, and he’d braved opening a box he hadn’t had the heart to after his mum’s death.

...

Tony watched as the girl struggled, learning things he himself had had to come to terms with only hours before. It was heartbreaking to see the shut down of all emotions as she processed what they were telling her, the dawning understanding he could see in her eyes as she realized what this could mean for her, the struggle to stamp down any hope in case of a trick or lie. How many times had he had that look on his face growing up, as he struggled not to hope that this was the time his father would see him? How many times had this girl, young as she still was, hoped that this was the time she might actually have hope?

“…I have a brother?” She hesitated to ask, grimacing as she was betrayed by the hope in her voice. “I mean…you…you’re my brother?”

“Yeah, Kid. I’m your brother.” Tony confirmed, and watched in wonder as a hesitant smile slowly crept across her face. “Now, let’s compare notes. I’m interested to see how much trouble a Potter can get into as opposed to that of a Stark. I have gotten into a lot of trouble in my life.”

She just snorts, and plops down across from him at the table, and replies. “Are you sure you have that kind of time? I have a lot of stories.”

“You’re on.” Tony challenged. “There’s no way you can top the shit I got into as a kid.”

“I’ll take that bet.” She replied with a sly smirk, and the two settled in to swap stories.

...

“Do you think this will work?” Sirius asked, keeping his voice low. Both he and Snape were watching the newly reunited siblings compare notes.

“It has to.” Snape replied, thinking something over before looking at him. “How’s your Occlumency?”

“Strong enough to keep out the Dementors in Azkaban.” Sirius admitted. “Why?”

“What do you make of this?” Snape asked, instead of answering, handing Sirius a sheet of paper. “It’s her Blood Inheritance Test.”

“Has she seen this?!” Sirius hissed in disbelief, unable to process the information in front of him.

“Said she didn’t want to see it, that tests that told you the limits of your magic potentially limited the growth of your magic. I asked to keep it, for a guide in where to start her training. She agreed.” Snape revealed, keeping his voice low. “The only questions that remain are who was she before, and why was she sent here now?”

The Blood Inheritance Test listed all the usual things; areas of magic she was strong and weak in, gifts she possessed, things of that nature. There was one word at the top of the test that Sirius couldn’t process. Hera Potter was godborn. Tests like this one spoke to the magic within the blood, and the goblins did not make mistakes. If that were true, discovering who she had been could very well be the key to figuring out why she was sent.

“Guide her training…How the hell do we even guide a power like that?” Sirius asked, daunted as he looked from the paper to Hera and back again.

“Very carefully.” Snape replied, going back to watching the siblings as he continued to speak quietly. “She doesn’t seem to realize how powerful she is, that much of what she can do is impossible for anyone else, and believes that the reason our magic is so limited is that we learn what the limits of magic are before we ever learn what magic truly is. If who she was before was any authority on magic, she could very well be right.”

...

Rita Skeeter smelled the story of a lifetime, and her name was Hera Potter. She’d lucked out, having caught sight of the girl entering Gringotts with one Severus Snape. Rumours were already flying around about the girl, how the students of each school had come together in support of her, but would they support her if they knew she was here alone…perhaps caught in a sordid affair with her professor? How scandalous! The girl exited Gringotts some time later, a Lady of her House, and apprentice besides; quite the development.

Unfortunately, Rita had not been able to enter the bank. Gringotts had always been more stringent than the Ministry when it came to their wards. While she’d waited though, Rita speculated about why they could be there, hoping to spin it for her articles. They entered the Leaky Cauldron, an abysmal place if there ever was one, but not to leave. A private room? Oh, this was scandalous indeed! She’d been able to sneak a peak into the room, and what appeared like Sirius Black and an as of yet unidentified man sat with drinks and snacks waiting. Unable to enter due to the paranoid nature of the potions professor, Rita Skeeter would have to contend with the one jewel Potter had gifted her.

“Please don’t tell me Tony Stark is actually my father – I don’t think I could take it.”

...

Tony had had a strange few days, getting acclimated to how the Wizarding World in Britain worked. He was convinced he could bring tech to the wizarding world as a whole, and Hera agreed with him. She explained that muggle tech reacted badly to surges of magic, something that was usually caused by strong emotions, the stronger the surge the worse the reaction; after a while people just stopped trying to get it to work at all. He’d been surprised to find that the Goblins ran a tight ship when it came to money, and they got along just fine, more so when he realized they loved to negotiate. The money system was a little weird, but they helped set him up, and transferred money into his very own new Gringotts account from one of their Muggle holdings that he had an account with; they even had a thing that looked like a credit card.

Once he got through setting all that up, he went shopping. Noticing the side glances he was getting because of his clothes, he made sure that was the first thing he fixed; and oh the things they could do to clothes. Clothes with pockets that were bigger on the inside? The Doctor could only wish he’d had it this good. Books were next, because if he was going to understand Hera’s world, he needed to learn all he could about it. What were the customs like here? There were books about the last wizarding war, which he made sure to devour those as well. What were the laws of this world? He would definitely need to know that.

He noticed the articles about Hera, thanks to his own subscription with their local paper The Daily Prophet, along with the follow up articles in another local paper The Quibbler. He liked that one more, mainly because while they seemed a bit crazy they also weren’t blindly following the masses either, and half of the time he thought they were writing in some kind of code; he'd need to back order the rest to confirm that particular theory later. Learning the laws had been tougher, but he’d plowed through that too. If Hera could hang on for a few more days, he’d get custody on the ‘muggle’ side of things, and then she’d never have to go to those Dursleys again. Maybe she would be okay with him suing the Daily Prophet and Rita Skeeter personally for libel, as well as whoever owned and printed the Hera Potter adventure book series.

“Hey, Pepper!” Tony greeted, calling her on the phone once he was back in his hotel.

“Tony! Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be back from London four days ago!” She sounded frantic.

Jeez. Mother much?

“Yeah, something came up, and I need to adopt a kid…teenager technically.” Tony replied nonchalantly. “I need you to fast track it through my lawyers, and have one of them send me the documents. I’m staying here for now to see this through.”

“Well, it was bound to happen sometime, I suppose.” Pepper mused. “Wait. Are you sure the kid is yours? You did say teenager. Did you do a DNA test?”

“How old do you think I am, Pep? She’s my sister, not my kid.” Tony corrected with a huff of annoyance. “Long story short, Howard helped out a family who couldn’t have kids. The parents died, and the child went to stay with relatives of the mother. They abuse her, and I’m not leaving her to that.”

“Taking over custody…adoption…that’s a huge responsibility, Tony.” Pepper argued. “Are you sure you’re really the best person for that? A teenager can be-”

“I’m her brother.” Tony stated in a tone that brokered no argument, his patience shot. “Now get those documents over here pronto, and make sure there won’t be any problem where she’s from Britain. Talk to Rhodey if you have any questions.”

It took a few calls, but once Pepper got over the initial shock of it, she apologized. Tony was just glad the woman wasn’t going to be weird about this. So he was taking custody of his sister. It would be fine. Now if she would just stop with the ‘I think this will be good for you, Tony’ that would be great. It took two weeks to get the paperwork together, with the thanks of more money than he would ever need in his life and the best lawyers that money could buy, but now all he needed was the signatures, which was exactly where he was headed.

Dudley couldn’t believe his eyes. A guy who looked remarkably like Tony Stark was walking up and down Privet Drive as if searching for something. He had this horrified look on his face, as if it disgusted him that everything was so utterly similar, probably thinking he was walking through the twilight zone. Figuring that he better go help the man out, or risk him getting mauled by the housewives of Privet Drive, Dudley made his way over. Seeing him approach, the man seemed relieved, if slightly suspicious.
“Can I help you, Sir?” Dudley asked politely.

He really was trying to be better about his manners and stuff. After watching Hera have to fight his parents and their denial these last few years just to go to her school, a lot of things had started making sense. His parents had both feared and envied her magic, and had tried to stamp it out of her, only Hera hadn’t given up. Instead, she’d fought them every step of the way. She’d ran away every year just so she could go to that school, and he just knew she kept up with her schooling on this side of things; She was too smart not to do that.

If he ever got the chance, Dudley knew he owed her a big apology. He’d played a large part in trying to keep her down, being encouraged by his parents, he’d tormented her with his friends. He would forever regret Hera Hunting and Find the Freak. His therapists at school were helping him work through a lot of it, though he was hesitant to tell them just how much had gone on in his home, and he knew that even though his parents didn’t see it that way, they had done a lot of damage to him that he was working to correct. He’d even started dieting and exercising on his own, which was hard, but the people down at the local gym said he could be a boxer if he played his cards right. Guess Hera knew what she was doing when she’d given him that punching bag that one year.

“Yeah, I’m trying to find a Number 4 Privet Drive.” The man explained. “The name’s Tony Stark. I need to talk to a Petunia Dursley about Hera Potter.”

“Are you…one of those?” Dudley asked, not certain of how to say it.

“No, I’m not…one of those, but I know what you mean.” Stark replied, looking amused.

“Petunia Dursley is my mum. I can take you to our house.” Dudley nodded. Understanding dawned in Stark’s eyes, along with barely restrained anger. “Listen, I know it won’t do any good, but…when I was little, I didn’t know any better. I bullied her because it got me attention, praise from my parents, and cake whenever I wanted. When I did know better…it was just easier to blame her for my problems. I know what I did was wrong, and while I can explain it, it doesn’t excuse what I did. If she ever forgives me, it’ll be more than I ever deserve.”

“Do your parents feel the way you do?” Stark asked, as if evaluating him.

“No. They…they still think they’ve done nothing wrong, that Hera somehow ruined their perfectly normal home.” Dudley sighed in defeat. They’d had several arguments about that over the summer. “I don’t know everything they did to her, but I can tell you what I do know if it will help you get her away from here. She deserves family that will love her, and I know she wanted that from them, even after everything, but…they’re never gonna admit what they did was wrong.”

That evening, things were strangely silent. Dudley had taken to such strange habits lately. Petunia didn’t know what to think of it, and Vernon blamed the educational system for its new ways. They’d pulled him out of that school Smeltings, and placed him in a local day to day school, but it was too late. The boy had gone to counseling! Therapy! Imagine it, her boy in therapy like some crazy person for the loony bin! He was exercising! Dieting! Her dudders didn’t need to diet. He was still a growing boy, not…He wasn’t fat, just big boned like his father. She wouldn’t hear of it, and tried to tempt her son with sweets at least five times in between every meal.

He’d started talking about toxic situations, child abuse, and trigger words. Her little dudderkins actually wanted them to apologize to that little freak for the things they did to try and keep her from becoming the freak she was! Perhaps she should have let Vernon hit the little freak more, Petunia mused as she set the table. Starvation and poisoning had done nothing to the girl, and breaking her bones only made her freakishness save her. She just didn’t know where they had gone wrong!

A knock at the door broke her from her thoughts.

“Who could that be?” She murmured to herself as she made to answer the door. Petunia was too surprised when she opened the door not to blurt out. “Tony Stark?!”

“Good thing about being famous, you never have to introduce yourself.” The man stated with a suave grin. “May I come in?”

“Of-Of course!” She agreed, ushering him in.

“I’m actually here to talk to your son, and for you and your husband to sign some paperwork.” Mr. Stark stated distractedly as he looked around the place with a frown. Perhaps he wasn’t use to such a modest home? He was obscenely rich, after all.

“Our son?” Petunia asked, suddenly on alert as she guided him to the dining room. “Why would you need to talk to our Dudders?”

“Mum! I told you not to call me that.” Dudley groaned in embarrassment.

“Tell me she never calls you that in public.” Mr. Stark snickered, causing Dudley to blush deeper with embarrassment. “My apologies, kid.”

Vernon grunted. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“Call me Tony! Mr. Stark was my father.” Tony insisted with a grin that suddenly looked predatory. “Now, let’s get onto business. I want custody of Hera Potter.”

Vernon flustered. “Get out. We don’t want your kind here. Didn’t want her either. Freaks, the lot of you!”

“I’m not a magical, if that’s what you mean by freak.” Tony replied, his predatory grin becoming all the more so. “I’m her brother.”

Vernon looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, but Petunia was suddenly over the moon.

“An affair? Perfect Lily had an affair? Oh, this is rich.” She snorted.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but no dice. James couldn’t have children, so they found one of those donors, someone who looked close enough that no one on their side of things would question it. They performed some sort of magic adoption ceremony before she was born, making her James daughter as well.” Tony corrected. “As it turns out though, that donor was my father, and I’m here to take custody. I’m not leaving without it.”

“Now you see here!” Vernon shouted, abruptly standing up from his seat.

“No, you see here. With the evidence I have, I could have you thrown in jail for child abuse at the very least; attempted murder at the worst.” Tony stated calmly, and now it was Petunia who looked like she’d eaten a lemon. “Poisoning, starvation, abandonment, neglect. I could go on, but you get the picture. How many times did her magic have to save her from you? How old was she when she learned her name wasn’t Freak? You’re lucky I don’t take your son from you too, and I could. I could have you thrown in jail so fast your heads would spin, and raise Dudley as my own, but he has asked for mercy on your behalf, mercy I am inclined to grant if you sign over custody of Hera to me.”

“She’s supposed to stay with us! Because of her, the wards keep us safe from those freaks that are after her.” Petunia objected, her voice shrill.

“Don’t think you can play me. Those wards are bond based, powered by emotions of familial love, and you knew that; or you would have if you’d bothered to do your research at all. If you had truly wanted to be safe, you would have fostered those feelings in her. You would have loved her instead of treating her like an unwanted shadow.” Tony snapped, and Petunia looked down at her plate. “I see plenty of pictures of your son. I see none of her.”

“We never wanted the freak to live here. Never! But we were told we had to, or be killed just for being associated with her family.” Vernon snarled. “So we tried to stamp out that unnaturalness, make her normal. You’re not going to make me feel guilty for that!”

“A cupboard under the stairs as a bedroom is normal?” Tony asked with an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Thinking her name was Freak for years was normal? Trying to poison her was normal? Starvation, being locked in a small confining space with no food or water, or even a pot to piss in, for days…That was normal? You encouraged your son to beat her up with the help of his friends. You hit her whenever you didn’t get a deal at work to go through, or a promotion. You didn’t want her to be normal. You wanted to punish her for existing. Now sign those damn papers, or I will bring the full might of Stark Industries on your ass, have you fired from your job because I own your company, and take custody of your son. What’s it gonna be?”

Petunia just knew that her husband wanted to hit the man for embarrassing them in their nice normal house like this, but she shook her head no hoping he would listen. If they didn’t sign these papers, they would lose their son. It was that simple, but judging by the fact that Dudley couldn’t look her in the eyes, it was clear they were already losing him in a way. He hadn’t known about the poisonings in their desire to be rid of her, hadn’t realized they’d actively tried to kill her in a way, and he’d been wanting to ‘make things right’ ever since he’d started going to therapy. Vernon signed everywhere he needed to, and then it was her turn. When it was over, Tony Stark placed the paperwork in his briefcase, and locked it.

“Now, where’s her room?” He demanded.

Petunia looked at Vernon in a panic, because he’d blocked off her room from the inside.

“I’m not going to like this, am I, kid?” Tony asked, looking to Dudley, who shook his head no. “Alright then, if you’ll show me her room, I’ll get out of your hair. I imagine you three are going to be having a long conversation here soon. I’d planned to talk to you about a job at some point later on in your future, but perhaps it’s better for things to calm down first. You have my personal number.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“I’m not going to like this, am I, kid?” Tony asked, looking to Dudley, who shook his head no. “Alright then, if you’ll show me her room, I’ll get out of your hair. I imagine you three are going to be having a long conversation here soon. I’d planned to talk to you about a job at some point in your future, but perhaps it’s better for things to calm down first. You have my personal number.”

Chapter 24

The day of the first task was drawing near, and Professor Snape had been training her relentlessly. They hadn’t known what to expect, what the challenge was, or what she would have to get. The first task was always to procure something through great dangers, but what that was, they hadn’t been told. Earlier, Hagrid had insisted she follow him under the cloak, but wouldn’t tell her what for, which was unusual for him. While she could have done without being the invisible third wheel on his ‘not’ date with Madam Maxime, hidden under her cloak as she was, it had certainly been an informative experience.

Lesson one, Hagrid was terrible at flirting.

Lesson two, she was going to have to face a dragon.

Her mind is fueled with panic at seeing such creatures up close, and decides leaving is the better part of valor. She taps Hagrid’s left hand three times to let him know that she’s leaving, and makes a quick exit. With nowhere else to go with this knowledge without it being overheard, Hera makes her way to Professor Snape’s office. She has quickly learned that he is probably the most paranoid bastard on the face of the planet, so his office had to be ridiculously well warded, making sure anything said there would remain private. Hera makes it to the office in little time, her panic fueled by the fact that nothing they’ve done so far will cut it with a dragon.

...

He’s grading papers when he feels a disturbance in the wards. They have been keyed to allow Potter entry. As his apprentice, she would need that. The door flings open with no one there though, and Severus’ reacts with casting a body binding curse where the person should have been, frowning when it hits nothing. Potter appears just inches in front of where the curse had flown through the air, invisibility cloak in hand, face ashen as she hyperventilates. He’s about to prompt her to find out what’s wrong, seeing as how she’s shaking with fear in his office, when she manages a single word.

“Dragons.”

“Maybe…if we dress you up in dragonhide everything, and you talk to it, they’ll think you’re just…an early hatch or something.” Ron managed to get out, through laboured breaths.

They were all in this sort of pile of groaning bodies on the floor of an old classroom Snape had appropriated for her training. Though Ron hadn’t followed her into Slytherin, he hadn’t let the change in House destroy their friendship, something Snape seemed to both tolerate and be confused by with equal measure. Ron and Draco had even come to some sort of weird truce, which pretty much amounted to them insulting each other like always, just without the anger behind it; it was actually turning into quite the contest. Draco was currently leaned up against Hera and Ron, protesting his abused muscles. Hermione groaned in commiseration from the other side of them, the two far past the point where they could even hold whatever grudge they had with each other; her transition into the House of Slytherin had been much easier than anticipated, something she was secretly surprised about, but happy for nonetheless.

Draco tenses, and then manages. “…What?”

“Ronald, surely that won’t work.” Hermione huffed in tiredness. “Norbert was a baby. These are fully grown dragons…Would they even listen to her?”

“Dunno…Charlie is still chomping at the bit to get her for the Reserve.” Ron shrugged as much as he was able. “So…maybe?”

“You can talk to dragons?” Draco asked, his voice sounding strangled.

“Dragons are just big serpents with wings…Snakes are cousins of serpents.” Hera explained, still leaning against him. “Point is, yes…I can talk to dragons.”

“That’s never been tested!” Draco insisted, sitting up and turning around to face them. Hera barely managed to save herself from sprawling backwards onto the floor, slumping against Hermione and Ron as she clung to them in an effort to stay upright.

“About that…Hagrid hatched a dragon in First Year, and it was able to understand me.” Hera informed him. “So…it’s been tested. I just don’t know if it will work on an adult dragon.”

“And just when were you going to tell me about this, Potter?” Snape drawled, leaning against the wall. The unspoken demand was clear.

“Uh…when I stopped panicking?” Hera ventured, to which he nodded in understanding. They had both been panicking, to be fair. “Do you really think that would work? It’s flashy. It’s impractical. It’s-”

“It’s so ‘in your face’ you have to do it.” Draco declared, seeming to find new wind and energy. Hera went to protest, but he continued anyway. “Don’t make it your only plan. Have a backup, a defense, maybe some kind of gigantic ice shield or something. I’ve seen what your spells do when they hit the ground. This is a Death Tournament. No sense in holding back now.”

She considered him for a moment as she thought about it, and then...

“Is this where you give me the ‘you don’t want to die a virgin’ speech?” Hera asked innocently, batting her eyes at him dramatically. The entire party were unable to help themselves, breathlessly laughing while Snape gave a put upon sigh of annoyance.

“You’re ridiculous.” Draco snickered, laughing with them all. “I hope you know that.”

Three days later, and one very annoying interview with Rita Skeeter later, Hera has finally made it to the moment where they would soon be told their tasks. Tony had warned her the woman had heard Hera's offhand comment, and the actions he was taking to dealing with her on the 'mundane' side of things. It left Skeeter with very little wiggle room other than the magical world, which would be dealt with in time. In any case, the task is almost at hand, and the Champions have all gathered in the tent; their nervousness a palpable thing. As nervous as Hera is, she can't leave them like this, and blurts out the first thing she can think of to alleviate the tension.

“Who else wonders if gold is really just Dragon Shite?” They all stare at her in shock, though Cedric coughs to cover up what could have passed for a snort. Hera grins widely, knowing she has their attention now. “Think about it! All the old stories say they hoard gold, yeah? But where do they get it? They didn’t steal treasure. They stole cows! and then?…gold happened.”

Suddenly all four of the Champions are outright belly laughing, which is how Ludo Bagman finds them when he walks into the tent.

...

She heard each of them going through their trials, which was probably not the best of ideas. It didn’t help that she was dead last. Professor Snape couldn’t be here to pull her out of her own head with some snarky comment or other. He’d briefly spoken to her about other projects, particularly finding repentant Death Eaters to test with the mark’s removal. Both were sure it had to be repentance that made it possible, or else Magic would know and kill them for the slight, but finding someone to test was going to be a problem.

Thinking about her side project had actually helped pull her out of her own mind for a bit, because the announcement of the fourth whistle surprised her. She ignored the people in the stands, hundreds though there were. They would be a distraction if she let them, and she didn’t need that right now. The Horntail was already glaring at her with large yellow eyes from the other side of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled; a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was loud, but Hera couldn’t focus on that right now. She could hear the dragon grumbling, and knew that the Horntail was not just going to just give….Hang on. Now, there’s a thought.

~Foolish hatchling, thinking you can just walk up to my nest. I’ll show you! I’ll-~

“You have an intruder in your nest,” Hera casually commented, after casting a localized sonorus. Only the dragon would hear her. “a false egg.”

~A Speaker?!~ The Horntail exclaimed in surprise, raising up and moving closer to her. To the crowd, it did not look good. ~Your kind have not spoken to us in centuries!~

“I didn’t exactly know I could until a few years ago, and as I am still a…foolish hatchling, as you say, I’ve not had the chance to travel and test it.” Hera pointed out, in good humour. “Will you give me the false egg? The impostor they put in your nest?”

~I like you, Little Hatchling, but I’m angry. Foolish humans think they can use me for their amusement! Think they can make me perform tricks for them!~ The Horntail snapped, now standing over her eggs with all the ferocity of an angry mother. ~I demand retribution! I demand vengeance!~

“They think much the same of me.” Hera replied darkly. “I have an idea, if you’re interested.”

~ I’m listening~

“…Set me on fire.”

~WHAT?!!!~

“They use us for their desires, their goals, their ends. They care nothing for us. They want a show? I say we give them one,” Hera supplied, slowly raising her wand about as if to prepare a spell. “ and we remind them why they should NEVER toy with the likes of us!!!”

~I like you, Little Hatchling~ The Horntail grinned, it’s many sharp teeth bare for all to see as it stands as if to attack. ~Get ready~

...

“Severus, why did you ask me to be here?” Lucius asked in a bored tone.

His friend knew better, of course. Severus was quite good by now at picking up on his tells. Draco had been insisting for a while now that siding with Potter was worth whatever risk the Dark Lord possibly coming back presented. His own interactions with the now Lady Potter and apprentice to his best friend left much to be desired in the way of showing power, though he could see she had a cunning mind and good business sense; their latest venture was quite lucrative, and just barely legal. He just didn’t see what Draco saw, what Severus was trying to subtly tell him in so many words.

“You wanted to see a show of power.” Severus replied casually, as he gestured down to the enclosure. They, of course, had top seats for the best view. “You’re about to get it.”

It didn’t look like much was happening. Potter was just walking forward, and then the dragon was moving, posturing, angrily roaring her displeasure at having someone so close to her eggs. A deep breath from the Horntail, and then it was spewing fire…directly in Potter’s path. There was nowhere for her to go, no escape, not that she attempted it. The fire engulfed her before either of the men could breathe.

“She didn’t say she was going to do this!” Severus growled angrily.

Lucius was going to say that Severus was reacting to his grief at the loss of an apprentice with anger and denial, but then he stopped. In the center of the fire were blue sparks, wild and yet quite shield like. Taking his Omnoculars, he peered into the pocket the fire couldn’t seem to penetrate. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Potter was standing in the center of the flames, wand raised, hands up, her face locked in intense concentration, focusing the magic to act as a shield of the coldest ice. Nothing less would work on a dragon’s fire breath.

Before the handlers could even try to make it onto the field, the Horntail had stopped her assault, revealing a very much alive Potter. Steam rolled off her in billowing waves, and sweat poured down her brow, but she looked no worse for wear. The crowd loses their collective minds upon finding out that Potter has the power to survive a direct blast of a dragon’s fire breath. Another breath, this one deeper than the last, and then the Horntail was breathing fire down on her again. This time was different. This time the flames were more intense, coming dangerously close to the people sitting in the stands and the judges nearby. Whatever ice magic she was using was doing the same, and many of the students had already shielded themselves and their ‘too-shocked-to-move’ parents; belatedly reminding him that Potter had started a trend of teaching shield charms. When the flames stopped, Potter was no longer there, much to the dragon’s confusion.

“There! She’s under the dragon!” Lucius hissed in disbelief.

“That’s not going to work for long.” Severus noted, though he kept his eyes peeled on the girl. “What is she thinking?!”

“She’s your apprentice.” Lucius accused, as if that explained everything. “You tell me!”

...

From the moment he watched Hera disappear in the flames, his heart had dropped into his stomach. There was no way his mother was going to forgive him for bringing in the dragon that killed Hera Potter. It was only his knowledge that she could talk to dragons, and thus must have talked this over with the Horntail, that stopped him and the team from going out there. Seeing her standing there as waves of steam rolled off of her only confirmed it, and damn it if she didn’t look mighty intimidating just standing there like that. She would be fine. She would scare the shite out of all of them, but she would be fine.

It was worse in the second wave, when the flames were hotter, and the ice more chaotic. She wasn’t standing where she should have been when the flames stopped, but the dragon’s confusion only confirmed that she knew the girl wasn’t dead. She was under the dragon! The Horntail hadn’t moved from her nest, standing over it as protective as any mother defending her children, but Charlie still almost had a heart attack when he realized that’s where she was. As soon as the girl had the egg though, she bolted out of there like her arse was on fire; the Horntail roaring mightily as she swung her tail at the escaping prey.

“You planned that, didn’t you!” Charlie called out, knowing she would hear him as they neared each other.

“I’m still not quitting school, Charlie!” She cackled with delight as she ran by.

...

“You’re going to make me go gray, if you keep this up, Miss Potter.” Professor McGonagall declared emphatically, as soon as Hera neared her.

“Well, it’s either me or Father Time, and I can’t let that old coot have all the fun.” She grinned cheekily.

“You should see Madam Pomfrey before you head over to the judges, make sure no damage was done with that stunt.” Professor McGonagall insisted wearily. “You certainly are your father’s daughter, that’s for sure; scaring me half to death. Did you mean for the flames to get so near the judges though? I think you singed off half Albus’ beard. Karkaroff looks like a lobster, and poor Ludo…Well, at least they were able to quickly transfigure him a new pair of pants. I think Thicknesse just hid behind Madame Maxime to be honest.”

Hera just chuckled in amusement. Madam Pomfrey was already waiting by the second tent, ready and willing to pull Hera into it, fussing at her all the while. Really, the woman wasn’t wrong. The idea had been certifiably insane, but Hera just grinned at her like a loon as she worked, and Madam Pomfrey sighed in fond amusement. There was some kind of aloe stuff she was going to have to bathe in for the next week for trying to roast herself with dragon’s fire, but other than that she would be fine. She was thinking about making an escape attempt, when Hermione and Ron burst into the tent.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed with enthusiasm. “Charlie is gonna want to marry you for sure!”

“That was insane! You’re insane, and brilliant, and don’t you ever do that again!” Hermione declared exuberantly. “Did you really have to tell it to set you on fire?!”

Cedric squeaked in the next cubical, and shambled over as quickly as the cast on his leg would allow. “You told the dragon to set you on fire?!”

“To be fair, it was brilliant.” Hera replied cheekily. “Super strong ice shield for the win.”

“You talked to a dragon, and told it to set you on fire.” Cedric repeated, trying to process that, before shambling back to his cubicle while muttering. “Bloody hell, she wasn’t kidding.”

“Hurry, before Madam Pomfrey gets back!” Hera hissed in exclamation, though she realized that was going to be easier said than done when she began to move with some difficulty; everything hurt, or felt like it was sun burnt, and she hobbled out of there with them near to steady her.

...

The judges looked like shite, most of them, as well they should. Barty Crouch Sr looked a bit out of it, but every so often, he would cough up smoke. Ludo Bagman was red with embarrassment, maybe not just embarrassment though. Karkaroff was smoking from his hair, and looking at her like he wanted to murder her. Madam Maxime shook with barely suppressed amusement, and Thicknesse jumped a bit like he thought he’d have to dive for cover again, but Dumbledore’s state was the best. The man was subtly trying to stamp out the embers his long beard had turned into, smelling of burnt hair and lemons. Whatever the score would be, she would savor the looks on their faces for the rest of her life.

...

“What do you think now?” Severus asked, watching his apprentice as she smirked at the judges in typical Potter fashion. She’d meant for that dragon’s fire to roast them, not that they could prove it.

“She’s insane.” Lucius declared, but it was clear he was more thoughtful than before. “Will she agree to meet with me? We no longer have the excuse of the Life Debt, and this is not something one can bring up in business.”

“I believe she will, but be prepared, Lucius.” Severus warned. “Potter bears her namesake well. She is wrath and vengeance, protector and defender, and if she believes you insincere, it will not end well.”

Lucius looked at him contemplatively, before replying. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Many things, as always.” Severus reminded him. “We are Slytherin after all.”

Slytherin Common Room was a mad house. A wall of noise hit her as soon as they stepped into the place. Hermione rolled her eyes in fondness at her friend still grinning like a loon, though the grin was a bit pinched when she walked. Fred and George had food nicked from the kitchens, and it was becoming quite the party. Ron had somehow been let in again; along with Seamus, Dean, Colin, and Dennis.

Colin was already taking pictures, though careful to avoid directly blinding anyone, and there were already requests for copies; paid for, of course. Everyone was going mad over the fact that she had stood in the face of fire, literally, and survived. When they found out it was because she and the Horntail had been in cahoots together, they were nigh ecstatic. Such a subtle way of using a gift many disapproved of, to garner favour with a dragon, the so overt it’s covert idea that Fred and George loved so much.

“Blimey, this is heavy.” Neville grunted, picking up the egg. “Did you want to open it now?”

“Yeah, let’s hear it!”

Several people echoed his sentiment, and Hera couldn’t resist. She cracked open the egg, and a high pitched screeching sound echoed through the common room. People started clasping their ears at the sudden shrillness of it, many calling for Hera to close it, but she didn’t. Quickly grabbing a notebook and biro Hermione was certain Hera had just conjured up, Hera began writing something down. Merlin’s beard, it was a language, but Hermione couldn’t think of anything that sounded like that. When Hera managed to shut it, she looked more shaken than before, passing the note to Hermione to read.

“Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you’re searching, ponder this:

We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,

An hour long you have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour…the prospect’s black,

Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

“Harry Potter!”

“Dobby?”

It had been Draco that had called out, and when Dobby saw Draco he began trying to hit his head against his hands.

“Dobby, stop!” Hera demanded, rushing forward and grabbing a hold of his arms to stop him.

“What is Harry Potter doing with Dark Wizards?!” Dobby wailed in despair, looking around at the children of Slytherin House.

“Okay, first you should know that Dark doesn’t always mean evil. Light can not survive without it, after all, and Light itself is not always good.” Hera stated, as if she were instructing a small child. He grinned sheepishly. “Secondly, Potter luck ^TM. I’m the fourth contestant in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and this is the House that can help protect me best, because someone is trying to kill me.”

“Someone is trying to kill Harry Potter?” Dobby asked, wide eyed and concerned, straightening up then. “Dobby will protect Harry Potter Miss!”

“I remember how that worked out last time, you know.” She teased. “Come, sit down with me. No, no punishing yourself. You know I hate that.”

“Potter, how are you familiar with one of my family’s former house elves?” Draco asked, clearly confused.

“I sort of…tricked your father into freeing him.” Hera admitted impishly. The look Draco gave her was exasperating. “Dobby was trying to save my life, and he hated working for your father. What else was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. He…Dobby was always kind to me, looked after me when I was little, and then Dizzy died, and Dobby got…promoted.” Draco replied, though he said promoted dubiously.

“What…what was Dobby’s new job…before?” Hera asked, already knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Er…I believe they call it ‘whipping boy’.” Draco grimaced.

“Well, that settles that then.” Hera decided, before turning to Dobby. “Why were you looking for me, Dobby? Was it to visit, or did you need work? I remember what I promised before. Gringotts contract, days off, pay,…tailored clothes. Also, why didn’t you visit? I worried about you, you know.”

He was very enthusiastic about all his clothes, but he had dressed himself worse than the people at the World Cup.

Ron just looked him over for a moment, before adding. “Nice trainers.”

“Harry Potter is too kind, as is her Wheezy, but Dumbledore hired me not long after Dobby was made free. There was no need for yous to be worried.” Dobby insisted, patting her hand. “Dobby has come about Winky. She was let go by her Master Crouch, and she is not taking freedom well. Winky is being drinking butterbeer.”

“That doesn’t have a lot of alcohol in it though.” Hermione commented, with a frown.

“To a house elf, tis enough.” Dobby lamented. “Will Harry Potter come to the kitchens? Dobby wishes for her to meet Winky.”

“You want me…to hire Winky?” Hera realized.

“She will not be wantings pay or clothes, but if you order them she will have to take them.” Dobby nodded.

“I…I’ll meet her, okay? No promises on anything else. We’ll walk down, if you don’t mind. I’ll have to…” Hera paused. “…explain House Elf views to Hermione.”

...

“Okay, Hera, out with it.” Hermione demanded, as they walked down the halls as quickly as possible. “Why am I not going to like this?”

“House Elves are a symbiotic species that indentured themselves so that they can have access to a wizarding family’s magic like it’s food.” Hera replied rapidly, not looking at her best friend. “A lot of them get abused, like Dobby, but I’ve met a lot that like to work, to the point where if you deny them, they break down and hurt themselves if you don’t let them do something. There are reports of them trying to throw themselves into fireplaces by those that tried to free them, thinking that they'd dishonoured their Family and their House.”

“Hera, that’s-” Hermione began.

“I know, Hermione, I know.” Hera grimaced. “For some, it’s oppression. For others, it’s what they live for. It depends on how they’re treated. I don’t understand quite why they decided to indenture themselves in the first place, something about losing moons, and loss of magical forests to tend. I don't understand how it changed from paying them with magic to binding them with it. They like to cook, and clean, and make things, and they only wear those pillow case looking things unless either ordered to wear something, or they are freed. Freeing a House Elf is the same as killing them if they can’t find work elsewhere. It’s why I offered to hire Dobby. I wanted him to be free, but I didn’t want to kill him. They hit themselves when they think they’ve shamed their masters, but I don’t know if that’s ingrained or automatic…like fainting goats or something.”

Fred, George, Draco and Blaise came with them, listening to Hera explain what she knew of House Elves, and they themselves gave more details when Hermione asked questions. Ron had decided to head back to Gryffindor, sensing this was going to be a long trip, and he’d been the one to agree to chaperone the younger years. She did not like that there were such few options for House Elf Rights. Dobby had gone ahead to the kitchens, most likely to prepare Winky for visitors. She knew that Dobby had to have been desperate in order to ask for help, but surely there was something better than enslavement? Their arrival to the painting of fruit paused her thoughts, and she watched as the painting swung open when Fred tickled the pear.

“Harry Potter!” Dobby called, pulling her friend’s attention to him. “Winky is being here. Please…Please, help her. She is not like Dobby. She is not be taking to freedom well.”

A small meek house elf wailed, curled up on the floor.

“Hermione?…I know…I know this is bad…that what she wants amounts to slavery, but…how can I do what she’s asking? Look at her.” Hera said quietly, her eyes wide and pleading as she turned to her, looking more lost than Hermione ever remembers seeing her. “What do I do, Hermione?…I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

Hermione took a bracing breath, and looked around her. The house elves of Hogwarts looked happy, even though they weren’t free, and well cared for. She didn’t understand that, but she was studious, and vowed to do her research. If she couldn’t get them to agree that freedom was what was best, she could at least petition for punishment against those that chose not to treat their elves with dignity and respect. Not all revolutions started with a bang, but slowly over time. Maybe this was one of those.

“If she wants, I think you should take her bond.” Hermione admitted, surprising Hera. “They didn’t go to a Pureblood, Hera, they came to you. Whether that is because you are ‘Harry Potter’, or because you know what it is like to be so ill treated, they came to you. You will treat her with respect, and dignity, and kindness, and maybe…Maybe those around you need to see that, humans and house elves alike. Maybe that will make them question things better than any violent revolution ever could. In the meantime, I’ll research laws and treatment. It’ll be good practice for me, since I’ll probably be a barrister or something when I get all grown up.”

She watched her friend nod mutely like she was in shock, and then go over to Dobby and Winky. Blaise, Fred, and George were being served by the kitchen staff, so she joined them. Most of the time she spent asking the house elves about their lives, their culture, what they wanted, and how they felt about things. The younger ones thought she was insane, but the older ones humoured her with the ease of a patient elder. While the house elves did not seem to care for Dobby, they had understood that he had not known kind treatment for some time, and with Winky they understood her despair over being let go from her family. Occasionally, she would look over to see how her friend was doing, wanting to make sure she would be okay.

“She’ll be fine.” Draco stated quietly, pulling her out of her thoughts. Hermione glared at him, but didn’t say anything, not liking that he could read her so easily. “I get that you hated me. I’ve not been kind, and you did punch me in third year for calling you a mudblood. Believe me, Professor Snape lit into me for that later.”

“What are you trying to say, Malfoy?” She asked, civilly, her ire clearly felt.

“I’m trying to say…While I still don’t…understand, I am sorry.” Draco admitted, then gestured to Hera still in her ‘meeting’. “Dobby used to be like that, used to love us, love me. He took care of me growing up, and then Dizzy died…Father’s previous ‘whipping boy’, and Dobby was reassigned. He was never the same after that, and he could never look at me without fear in his eyes.”

“You said you don’t understand.” Hermione noted, now curious. She had never given Draco a proper chance at friendship, not really, and was curious at this sudden revelation. “What did you mean by that?”

“You’re smarter than me, and it’s irritating. The only reason why you don’t get more points in Potions, is because Uncle Sev hates the hand waving; poor showmanship, he says. I have to study all the time just to keep up, and if you ever tell anyone I said that, I will deny it till I’m blue in the face.” Draco rambled, absentmindedly sipping on his tea. “If your blood was really less than mine, why are you smarter than me? By that logic alone, you shouldn’t be. The Weasleys are seen as blood traitors, though they are technically pure bloods, and yet…while they are poor, and Ronald has abysmal manners, they have more than me. I mean, look at them. The twins are close, yeah, but the whole family is like that. They don’t have to worry about allegiances, or being a disgrace to the family name. They just…love each other.”

“Are you saying you don’t think your parents-” Hermione tried to say, but failed.

“I know that they love me, but they show it through distant pureblood manners. The Weasleys show it through warmth and ugly sweaters.” Draco explained, then gestured to Hera again. “Something else I don’t understand. She was raised by Muggles, and not just any Muggles, but the kind that actively hate magic. How is she so nice? It’s almost Hufflepuff, how nice she is.”

At that, Hermione started laughing, and then had to calm down in order to explain the joke. Hufflepuff had been Hera’s cover, after all, in case anyone asked why she wasn’t acting Gryffindor enough. Hermione herself had used Ravenclaw as her cover. Everyone had thought it was rather Slytherin of them, and had a good laugh about it. When a burst of bonding magic hit them, they all shivered at the power behind it, and turned to Hera. They see her hugging not just Winky to herself but Dobby as well, leaving all of them to wonder just what kind of conversation they’d just had.

...

“Are you sure, Dobby?” He hears her ask, tears falling down her face as she held them to her, the bonding magic telling her what he’d done. “You loved you freedom so much.”

He knew Winky could sense it too, the way she now stared at ‘Harry’ in awe. There was ancient magic about this most kind of witches. It was born of chaos and mischief, a desire to protect and defend. She had a sort of golden hue about her, if one looked close enough, with only the dark spot on her forehead to blemish it. With the kind of magic she had, it was only a matter of time before she figured out how to deal with it on her own, and then her magic would truly shine.

“Dobby understands.” Dobby insisted. “Dobby loves his freedom, yes, but Dobby wishes to protect you more, Harry Potter Miss.”

‘Harry’ let out some kind of choked sob, before nodding, hugging them to her once more.

It had been hard to convince Winky that this is what was best for her, especially with the conditions he knew ‘Harry’ Potter would have. The witch would want to see them in uniforms, which he had had to promise were not freeing clothes to Winky. He’d had a hard time explaining that more than likely ‘Harry’ would want to pay them money, if only to buy more cloth for uniforms, and getting her to agree to days off had been a challenge. No self respecting house elf would agree to such a thing, Winky had insisted, but Dobby was just as stubborn. ‘Harry’ would argue that days off made for better workers.

The conversation had gone about how he thought it would have. With Winky forewarned, he had hoped it would make things easier. However, Winky seemed to take this as knowing the enemy, and used them to try to prove her own points so that she could stay right there and wait for her Mr. Crouch to take her back. ‘Harry’ hadn’t tried to fight her, which had surprised Dobby, only reiterated that she would not treat a house elf any less than she would a witch or wizard. It was this that won Winky over, opening her up to see the magic that now surrounds them both.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Winky whispers as their new master left for her sleeping quarters.

Dobby can only watch after the girl and her friends as he replies reverently. “I didn’t know.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Winky whispers as their new master left for her sleeping quarters.

Dobby can only watch after the girl and her friends as he replies. “I didn’t know.”

Chapter 26

“You want me to what?” Hera asked, not sure she’d heard him right.

“Your friend. I see her in library. She is nice. Does not care for Quidditch. Likes studying.” Krum explained in a rush, trying to keep his voice down.

“Hermione?” Hera realized.

“I try talking vit her, but fans…she does not like them interrupting her studying.” Victor continues. “Can not ask her to Ball if they keep following me. Help?”

She realized what he meant the second the swarm of girls came into view, and quickly shoved him into the alcove before they could catch sight of him.

“Hey, girls! I think I just saw Victor Krum go up the moving stair cases!” She called out, in as excitable a voice as she could manage, and watched as they all quickly changed direction; an absent thanks thrown her way. “I can’t believe they actually fell for that. That’s just sad.”

“Many thanks, Potter.” Krum sighed in relief, only to be stopped when he tried to leave, Hera’s hand on his shoulder.

“You break her heart, I break your legs.” She warned, and then grinned as she patted his shoulder. “Glad we could have this chat. Now get in there before the gang comes back.”

...

Some time later…

...

“Hera!” She hears, right before being barreled into by Hermione. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“You’re…welcome?” Hera hedges. “Also, what did I do?”

“He told me what you did for him! He’s been wanting to ask me for ages!” Hermione insisted excitedly, then lowers her voice. “Did you really threaten to break his legs for me?”

“You’re my sister, and I love you. Of course, I threatened to break his legs for you.” Hera replied nonchalantly, only to get squeezed again by an overly happy Hermione.

...

“What about Ron?” Hermione asked, going over the list in the Common Room.

“He’s like a brother.” Hera grimaced. “He jokes about me becoming part of the family, but I can kind of tell he really hopes for it. No to Fred and George for the same reasons.”

“Oi! Why not?” Fred

“We could be-” George

“-twice the fun!” Fred and George

“Yeah, I see what you mean.” Pansy nodded sagely.

“Neville?” Hermione continued, having checked the list again.

Hera shook her head. “Going with Ginny.”

“Brave, that boy." Hermione noted. When the other girls perked up at that in inquiry, she added. "Her batty bogey hex created things the size of Great Danes.” 

“Krum?” Millicent suggested from somewhere nearby.

“Taken.” Hermione answered primly.

“Really? Way to go, Hermione!” The girl congratulates her, clearly impressed, and the two promptly high five.

“Flint?”

“Look, I get that he’s a mountain with muscles on top of his muscles, but no.”

“Grabbe? Goyle?” Pansy suggested, looking to the boys. "They're not much on conversation, but you'd never have to worry about either of them getting handsy or anything. So respectful."

“They have dates. Girls from Beauxbatons.” Hera chirped.

“Nice.”

Hermione checked the list again. “Dean?”

“Going with Seamus.”

“Took them long enough.” Her friend snorted.

“Draco?”

“Assumed he was going with Pansy.” Hera admitted with a shrug, before looking to Pansy. “Is he not?”

“I’m going with Theo.” Pansy admitted with a blush.

“Hey Malfoy!” Hera shouted across the Common Room. Draco was playing wizarding chess with Blaise, but looked up at hearing his name. “You want to give your father a heart attack?”

“Do you even know how to dance, Potter?” Draco asked, automatically knowing what she was talking about. That wasn’t a no, but Hera blushed anyway, because she did not know how to dance. She’d experienced dreams where Loki learned to dance, but it just didn't feel like it counted as the same thing. “Good thing our Head of House will be giving lessons for the unfortunate souls who never learned.”

“Is that a yes?” Hera asked, looking to Pansy.

“Of course, it’s a yes, Potter.” Draco declared in exasperation. “Think of it this way. We play our cards right, we’ll not only give my father a heart attack, but my godfather, and yours too. They’ll all be there.”

“I kind of wish they would let Tony be here for this one.” Hera snickered. “It would be nice to give my newly discovered brother a heart attack. I’m sure I can get Colin to take some stills, and then I can just give him a belated heart attack that way.”

“So, it appears that Ron has finally realized that I’m a girl.” Hermione announced in the middle of their preparations for the Ball.

At the moment, Hermione was sitting still while Pansy gently worked a solution into her hair. It was slowly causing the frizz to relax into silky waves, but it was going to take time. It didn’t help that the girl still used muggle shampoos and conditioners, one of her last stubborn hold out habits. Pansy had ‘helped’ by cursing her teeth to grow, thus resulting in a visit with Madam Pomfrey, and Hermione letting the woman shrink her teeth to the ‘proper’ size. The girl’s parents weren’t going to be happy, but braces were the kind of thing that needed constant maintenance, something that couldn’t be achieved at a magical boarding school.

“It’s true.” Hera confirmed. She was working on Millicent’s hair. Winky and Dobby were handing each girls vials of the hair solution to use, making sure they had what they needed as they got ready. “I have never feared for that boy’s life more so than I did in that moment.”

“Didn’t help that right after that, he realized you were a girl too.” Hermione snickered.

“And this right after his disaster of asking Fleur to the Ball.” Hera sighed.

“Boys.” The four girls chimed in unison, descending into giggles.

Draco’s first chance to see Hera doesn’t come until almost at the start of the Ball. He sees Pansy and Theo talking to each other first, noting how well they looked together. Granger was talking to Millicent, before Victor Krum appeared out of nowhere, both of whom looked fantastic in ways he’d never considered them before. Hera though…Hera was something else altogether. Her attire was styled after Grecian dress robes, a white number that was held by golden clasps at one shoulder. The sleeve flowed open, allowing him to see that she wore golden snake arm bands above the elbow on both arms. Gold and green accents lined the dress, which helped bring out her eyes impossibly more. Her dark hair came into sharp contrast with all this, only made more so by the golden laurel leaf circlet resting on her head.

“Really leaning into the name, I see.” Draco remarked in amusement, to which she smiled brightly.

She chirped. “How could I not?”

“Champions, this way!” Professor McGonagall called out, over by the set of large oak doors.

“Is it bad that I’d rather face another dragon than the crowd that’s in there?” Hera asked, as they ventured forward. “I’m sure I’m going to muck this up somehow. I’ll step on my robes, or your toes, and ruin everything.”

“You’ll be fine, Hera.” He insisted quietly, shocking her into looking at him with wide hopeful eyes. Shite. She was nervous about this. “We’ve been practicing. You haven’t stepped on my toes in days. You’re actually rather graceful when you’re not thinking about it too much. Just let me lead, and don’t try to fight me on it, and you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Draco,” She replies, her voice just as quiet as his own. “for not making fun of me for being nervous about this.”

“Oh no, see, I reserve the right to make fun of you for all manner of things throughout the year, but this…” Draco kept his voice down as the door opened, and the Champions and their partners were guided into the Great Hall. “I will not make fun of you for being nervous about your first Ball, Hera. That’s hardly sporting.”

“Plus, your mother would kill you.” Hera pointed out in amusement.

“Plus, my mother would kill me.” Draco parroted truthfully.

...

The walls of the Great Hall had been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead there were a hundred smaller round ones, each seating about a dozen people. Hera concentrated on not tripping over her own feet, even as Draco quietly whispered words of encouragement. She saw Ron sitting at one of the tables with Padma, glaring at both Hermione and Hera in short intervals with narrowed eyes. Poor Padma looked sulky. She’d have to check on her later.

Nearing the table where the Judges and certain members of the school governors sat, Hera could see that most of them had recovered from her vengeance by dragon fire. Only Mr. Crouch was missing. She really hoped it didn’t have anything to do with what she’d done. Rules lawyer though he was, she’d not wanted to kill him. Instead though, Percy Weasley was in his place. When the champions and their partners reached the table, Percy drew out the empty chair beside him, staring pointedly at Hera. Taking the hint, Hera sat down next to him, waiting till Draco had taken his own seat before turning to Percy.

“I’ve been promoted.” Percy announced without prompting. “I’m Mr. Crouch’s personal assistant now, and I’m here representing him.”

“That’s brilliant, Percy. Congratulations.” Hera replied sincerely. “I know you’ve been working hard to get that job, but why isn’t he here? I didn’t…”

“It was nothing that happened during the first task, Hera.” Percy insisted, patting her arm in sympathy. “He’s not been well since the World Cup, and that disobedient house elf Blinky-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Percy.” Hera said, lowering her voice. “I’ve taken her on. New Ladyship to contend with and all that, you know, so I would appreciate you not saying anything bad about Winky. I don’t know what happened at the World Cup. I’ve not asked, out of respect for both their privacy, but I do know she loved that family. Whatever happened, I don’t think either of them deserve the gossip.”

Percy regarded her carefully for a moment, and then nodded. “Too right. Well spoken, Hera. Well, with all the work with the World Cup, and the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and that Skeeter woman buzzing about, I imagine Mr. Crouch is having a nice quiet Christmas this year. He’s earned it. I hear you’re apprenticed to Professor Snape now, new House and everything. How’s it suiting you? Mum bout had a fit when she heard Fred and George went Slytherin, but I always thought it would suit them.”

“Tell her not to worry. Everyone’s been nice. It’s not all evil Dark Lords everywhere.” Hera teased.

“And you’re alright…here with Malfoy?” Percy asked, his voice suddenly barely above a whisper, his eyes darting to Draco for a fraction of a second.

“I’m fine, Percy, I promise.” Hera nodded. “Thank you for making sure I’m okay.”

Dinner went by without a hitch, as soon as everyone realized they had to order their food. There were menus and golden plates, but no waiters: It had taken Dumbledore speaking to his plate before anyone realized what to do, and then food was popping up everywhere. Hermione was busy talking to Victor most of the time, talking about Durmstrang and her studies. She caught Hera’s inquiring gaze and smiled, signaling she was having a good time. Draco kept up a steady stream of intriguing conversation, pausing to explain things in more detail when she asked, and asking for her opinion; surprising more than just herself with his behaviour.

...

Sirius Black knew the exact moment he realized he was going to go away for murder, and actually be guilty of it this time. It was the moment he’d seen Hera radiating with beauty in her own right, fully taking advantage of the name her father had given her. It was the moment he’d seen Draco Malfoy next to her talking in hushed whispers of encouragement, the moment she’d looked at the boy with pure relief. He was going to go away for murder, because he was going to kill that boy for taking advantage of his innocent little cub! Only…he couldn’t seem to get out of his chair just now.

“Sticking charms.” Severus deadpanned, not even looking at him. “Apparently, the two of them wanted to give us all heart attacks, thinking it a grand prank for the three of us. Narcissa warned me only because she knew what you two would do. Were either of you anywhere near level headed, she would have left me in the dark as well.”

Sirius snorted, seeing Lucius huff indignantly as he too realized he could not escape his seat.

“You could have warned me, at least, Severus.” Lucius grumbled. “I thought we were friends.”

“And miss the look on your face just now?” Severus countered, right before Colin Creevey swooped in and snapped a photo of them. “I think not.”

“I don’t believe it. Our little Sevy’s growing up, pulling pranks and everything.” Sirius snickered, even as the three of them blinked away the flash in their eyes.

“I can see it now.” Lucius drawled. “Soon he’ll be crawling all over the floor, refusing to eat, making faces at plates of broccoli.”

“What are you talking about?” Sirius asked, in mock affront. “He already does that.”

...

The actual dance wasn’t near as bad as she thought it was going to be. Draco was right, not that she’d ever tell him. As long as she didn’t think on it too much, she wasn’t as nervous as she thought she would be. Once the opening dance was done, others started joining them. Draco showed no signs of wanting to stop, and she was quite content to keep dancing now that she’d gotten the hang of it, especially since she’d not gone for the high heels like the other girls had suggested.

“You’re not going to fall in love with me or anything weird, are you?” She blurts out.

He pulls her just a bit closer so he can speak more quietly. “No, but the longer we’re out here, the more the little vein in my father’s forehead starts twitching.”

She turns her head slightly closer to his own. “How’s Sirius looking right now?”

Instead of answering, he spins her out slowly so she can see for herself without being obvious.

“Drinks?” She offered, when he pulled her back in. “Any longer, and Sirius might try something drastic.”

“One more dance, and then drinks.” He negotiated. “It will be good for them, you know, practice that patience they claim we need to learn in order to be adults.”

“You’re evil.” She laughs as she nods. “I love it!”

...

Only the ginger oaf would be so artless as to piss off not one but both of his female best friends; Granger because he no doubt had a crush on her, and Potter because…well…maybe he had a crush on her too. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. Hera had tried to help the youngest Weasley boy, but said ginger oaf had been too far into his anger for her words to help, and snapped at her too. Granger had stomped off, and Draco had decided that maybe a walk would help Hera cool off. It had helped, but then they’d stumbled onto Hagrid’s confession, and could only watch as Madam Maxime left him behind.

“Hagrid?” Potter called out after the Beauxbatons Headmaster had gone, hesitantly walking out to the crying half giant. Draco couldn’t just leave her there, but was at a loss for what to do now.

“’Arry? Wha’ are you doin’ out here in the cold?” Hagrid asked, already trying to hide the fact he’d been crying. “Don’ suppose ye heard tha’?”

“We did.” She confirmed, patting his hand when he slumped in defeat. “Don’t worry, Hagrid She might not be ready to face that, or it could have come about…badly for her mum or dad, yeah?”

“I hadn’ thought of tha’.” Hagrid admitted with a sniffle. “When did ye get so wise anyway?”

“I’m a girl. It’s built in.” Hera chirped.

“You still want ter be seen with me, even though ye know wha’ I am?” Hagrid hedged, nervous, looking from Hera to Draco and back again.

“Hagrid, there’s no way you’re as dangerous as they say giants are.” Hera rolled her eyes at him, and then pointed to the bushes. “I’m pretty sure that if one of those fairies landed on you right now, you’d adopt them or something equally ridiculous because you care so much.”

Which, okay. Fair. Not like Draco could say that though.

“We should get you two inside, before ye catch colds.” Hagrid mumbled, blushing. “’Arry’s hands are already turn’n blue.”

Except, Hagrid meant that literally.

“We’ll go inside right now, Professor.” Draco insisted. “Hera, come on. I think someone must have spiked your drink with a colour changing solution or something. Uncle Sev will have an idea how to fix it.”

With that he ushered her inside and straight to his uncle, who took one look at her hands and said. “Follow me.”

Once inside the office, Draco was surprised that his Uncle Sev started casting simple warming charms on Hera’s hands until they turn back to normal.

“Coldest night on record, it seems, and you two decide to go outside.” The man grumbles. “Now go back to the party. I’ve got to make rounds, and I’d rather not worry that one of you will try something stupid, like taking a swim in the Black Lake.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Coldest night on record, it seems, and you two decide to go outside.” The man grumbles. “Now go back to the party. I’ve got to make rounds, and I’d rather not worry that one of you will try something stupid, like taking a swim in the Black Lake.”

Chapter 27

It isn’t until the next day that she begins stressing about the task again. She knows they’ll take someone, knows she’ll have to swim in the Black Lake, and that the Mermish were in on this somehow. She writes to Sirius, hoping he knows a way to stay under water for an hour, but it’s Tony that comes through. He’s staying in London till she’s out of school, and it isn’t like he can’t take care of Stark Industries from anywhere in the world. She’s not really sure why she writes to him at all, except that the Dursleys never made an effort to know her world the way Tony is doing, and she needs that kind of lifeline.

He starts asking questions, wanting to know as much as he could before giving her advice, and then asks her to measure her entire body. Hermione helps her there, probably having an idea of what Tony planned. A couple weeks later, he sends a package. The bird mail amuses him, he writes, and he now has a healthy respect for Hedwig. Hera’s not sure she wants to know, but praises Hedwig anyway for being such a clever girl. She doesn’t think an owl has ever looked so smug before.

It takes her a minute of inspecting the fabric before she realizes what it even is. A scuba suit. He’s gotten her a skin tight scuba suit made from top of the line stuff, and the smallest breathing apparatus she’d ever seen. He’d designed it himself. It would hold for well over an hour if she needed it. Hera couldn’t process what she was seeing, what it meant. He didn’t really know her, other than that one day they had gotten to talk, and a smattering of letters. It had been nice, hanging out with him, but it seemed like he cared, and she didn’t know how to handle that.

Trying it on in the bathroom she shared with Pansy, Millicent, and Hermione, Hera had to admit it made her look very…sleek? Streamlined? She looked fast, that was for sure. She also looked incredibly tiny. No wonder Madam Pomfrey was still worried about her. Even with an incredibly high metabolism, and a small stature, she shouldn’t be this tiny.

Her mind was getting off track though, she realized, and shook her head as if to clear it. She was actually in here to test a theory. She’d discovered she could swim when she was little, around the time the Dursleys had tried to conveniently forget her at a water park for somehow ruining Dudley’s birthday by being forced to go with them. Swimming in the Black Lake didn’t worry her for that reason, but it did worry her for another. When she got cold enough, her skin turned blue; while so far it had only been her hands, swimming in the Black Lake might exasperate that to the point that her entire body turned blue.

So here she was in the rather luxurious bathroom, skin tight scuba suit on, and running the coldest water she could into the large tub. When it was filled up, she tested the water with her toes, and sure enough they slowly started turning blue, but she didn’t feel cold. It felt lukewarm to her, and she wondered if this was another nutrition thing she’d have to ask Madam Pomfrey about. After swimming around in the tub for a while, because damn that thing was huge, she got out and began toweling her hair; though she noted there was something odd along the crown of her head. Her hands were fully blue now, and both her hands and feet had odd raised line markings on them, thus prompting her to see what her face looked like. Staring at now blood garnet coloured eyes instead of the emerald green she’d been expecting, along with strange markings all over her now very blue face, Hera realized she had bigger problems than she’d previously thought.

...

It was perhaps bad timing that Millicent chose that moment to step into the shared bathroom to check on Hera. Hermione had said she’d gone in there ages ago to test the new swimming gear in private, but that she would be decent, so Millicent needn’t worry. Millicent on the other hand, upon seeing the blue skinned red eyed demon standing in front of the mirror, thought that maybe she needed to worry after all. The creature was staring at her own face, with one trembling hand touching it as if she wasn’t used to seeing it that way, while the other was touching at the small horns that seemed to make a circlet on her head, but was shocked out of her investigation when Millicent dropped the glass she’d been holding. Millicent was not prepared for the creature to turn towards her in shock, to recognize her.

“Millie?”

She couldn’t help the scream that come out of her then, and ran away as fast as her feet would carry her. Some demon thing had eaten Hera, and now it was residing in their bathroom! She had to warn the other girls! She had to tell Professor Snape! There was no telling what would happen if that thing was allowed a moment to gather its wits!

“Professor! Professor!” Millicent shouted, running headlong into his office. “You’ve got to come quick! There’s a demon in the bathroom! It ate Hera, and used her voice to try to talk to me!”

“Calm down, and tell me exactly what happened.” Professor Snape stated with a deceptive calm. “What did you see?”

It took several gulps of breath before Millicent could try again. “I went into the bathroom to get a glass of water. Hera was supposed to be in there testing out the muggle swimming gear her brother sent, but when I went in there, I didn’t see her. There was this blue skinned red eyed demon! It knew my name! It stole Hera's voice! Please, Professor, you have to do something!”

“Miss Bulstrode, calm yourself!” Professor Snape demanded, before taking a calming breath himself. “What you saw was no demon, but Miss Potter herself. Her skin reacts to extreme cold in an unusual way, literally turning blue. It has never affected more than her hands, however, and it seems that in her attempt to get used to the temperatures like those of the Black Lake, she has exacerbated it.”

“I thought…I thought it had eaten her.” Millicent mumbled in embarrassment.

...

“Hera? Hera, are you alright in there?” She hears Hermione calling out. “Millicent ran out of there pretty quickly. Do you need help?”

If Millicent had freaked out upon seeing her, Hera realized, Hermione certainly would.

“Don’t come in here!” Hera yelled out, panicked. “I’m fine!”

“You don’t sound fine.” The door knob began turning. “I’m coming in.”

“NO!” She shouted, thrusting her hand out, causing ice to cover the door.

The shouting was muffled now, and Hera was in full on panic mode. They would go after the other doors next, but those were quickly frozen over, and Hera’s thoughts spiraled out of control. The Dursleys were right! She was a freak! There was no way Tony was going to want to be her brother now! Ron and Hermione weren’t going to want to be her friends! The school had supported her for nothing! She was going to have to drop out. No one would want her there!

...

Outside the bathroom, the doors slowly began frosting over. Frost traveled along the walls, on the floor, covering their things. Hermione watched as the frost moved, backing up when touching it began to hurt. Her breath came out in small puffs, also affected by the cold. All she could hear now on the other side of the door was sobbing, no matter how many times she called out to her friend.

“Granger, report.” Professor Snape ordered, sweeping into the room.

“She’s upset, Sir.” Hermione replied, wringing her hands, not knowing what else to say. “I don’t understand what happened. She won’t talk to me.”

“It’s my fault.” Millicent admitted, in a small voice. “I thought a blue skinned demon ate Hera. I didn’t know her skin literally turned blue.”

“You didn’t hear about her grabbing a Dementor?” Hermione asked, and Millicent blushed in embarrassment.

“I thought it wasn’t true; a crazy rumour, you know?” Millicent sighed. “I’m really sorry.”

“She’ll understand when she calms down.” Hermione promised. “It’s okay.”

“Try to talk to her, if you can.” Professor Snape interjected. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

When Tony heard the popping sound outside his London flat, he knew something had happened. He’d spent that morning dealing with Rita Skeeter on this side of things. As it turned out, she had contacts in the ‘muggle’ world that were all too willing to spread rumors about him, contacts he then happily sued for libel. Pepper had been on his ass all morning about the news articles she’d seen, and Obadiah was starting to ask questions Tony didn’t have answers for. He’d actually gotten a red screaming envelope this morning from a ‘Molly Weasley’, and for a solid minute he didn’t know how to react, torn between angry and utterly fascinated.

“Tony, you got any winter clothes?” Sirius asked, by way of greeting as he entered the flat. “Hera’s in a panic, and you’re going to need them. I’ve tried talking to her through the door, and I still can’t get the frost out of my hair.”

“Explain when we get there?” Tony asked, already heading for his room. “I thought muggles weren’t allowed in Hog’s Wart?”

“Normally they’re not, but Minerva’s agreed to let you in if you can help Hera.” Sirius replied, not falling for Tony’s bait. Damn it. “…Did you get a Howler?”

“A what?” Tony yelled from his room as he scrambled to put on enough thermal clothes to bake himself in.

“Floating red envelop that screams at you?” Sirius yelled back.

“Yeah.” Tony confirmed. “Apparently, I’m ruining James and Lily’s good name, and taking advantage of Hera’s wish for a loving family.”

...

Normally, he’d be all about asking these kids questions. He hasn’t sat down and processed everything that’s happened yet, not even after all this time knowing about it, not really. He wanted to know everything he could about this world he had suddenly found himself flung into, because he now had a sister who belonged in it. Now wasn’t the time for questions though. Right now, Hera’s magic was acting up, and she needed reassurances. She needed to know that she was still cared for, that she wasn’t a freak, and that if anything being weird should be celebrated.

It was colder than he’d expected it to be, but thankfully he’d dressed for that. Kids huddled together under blankets near fireplaces. Frost edged along the walls, and Tony could tell that it was getting thicker the further along they went. Two girls waited in one of the dorms Sirius had mentioned, both decked out in thick coats and chattering teeth, which he gently shooed from the room. Hera’s heartbreaking sobs could be heard from the other side of it, but not much else.

“Hera?” He called out, and the sobbing stopped with a gasp.

“Go away!” She cried in anguish. “I’m a freak! A monster! You won’t want to be my brother anymore!”

“Isn’t the fact that I’m here proof that that’s not true?” Tony countered, deciding to get to work with the small ice pick and chisel he’d stored away. Edwin Jarvis, his father in all but blood, hadn’t left him to lay in anguish alone whenever he’d been upset; he certainly wasn’t going to let Hera languish now.

“You haven’t seen me yet. I’m blue!” Hera huffed indignantly in between sobs. “BLUE!”

“Are we talking Violet Beauregard, or Blue Man Group?” Tony inquired while he worked.

“I don’t…I don’t know who either of those people are.” Hera replied, sniffling, momentarily confused.

“Oh, no. Say it isn’t so.” Tony pleaded dramatically, causing her to snort. It seemed to be easier to work the ice when she was distracted or amused, so he focused on that. “I keep trying to bait Sirius by making fun of Hogwarts by calling it Hog’s Wart, and he doesn’t even blink.”

“Make serious jokes.” She eventually replied, with a small voice. “He can’t help himself.”

“Serious jokes, like about his name?” Tony asked, to clarify. “Seriously?”

“He’ll tell you he’s always Sirius.” She added conspiratorially, with what sounded like little puffs of breathless laughter.

“I’m going to have to remember that.” He admitted ruefully. “But seriously though (pause for her breathless laughter again) What’s with naming a school Hogwarts? It sounds like a skin condition hogs get; Hog warts. I was told the town closest to this place was called Hogsmeade. Do Hogs drink meade here? Is that a thing? Are there magic hogs drunk off their asses just rolling around in the mud somewhere, living their best life? There’s even a bar called the Hog’s Head, and I swear to God if there isn’t a hog’s head proudly displayed front and center in that place, they’re wasting an opportunity there.”

The ice cracked then, and Tony was able to pop the door open before she could refreeze it. His heart broke at the sight before him. Hera (and wow, she was even more blue than she’d been in her baby pictures) was huddled in the corner, too afraid to even look at him. She was back to sobbing, trying to curl in on herself in the hopes that he wouldn’t see her. He made slow careful movements, until he could kneel in front of her, so as not to spook her further.

“We’re definitely watching Willy Wonka and Chocolate factory later, Miss Beauregarde. It seems someone didn’t stop before they got to the blueberry pie.” Tony couldn’t help but comment softly, even though she wouldn’t get the reference. She peaked up at him from over her arms, hesitant and uncertain, with eyes the color warm blood. “So you’re blue. Put you in a Hockey rink, or a foot ball stadium, and no one will think twice. We can say your skin is just like that because you’re such a fan of sports, that you went looking for a permanent skin dye, or had your skin tattooed blue in defiance of social norms. We can say you got contact lenses to make your eyes red, no  problem.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand…” She stammered. “…You…Why aren’t you like-”

“The Dursleys?” He inquired. She hesitated, but nodded. “You know, I’ve met them, and if that’s what normal is, I’d rather you be a freak.”

She blinked uncomprehendingly, trying to process what he’d said.

“Hera, that wasn’t normal. Those people, that place, how they treated you, none of it was normal or okay. That was suburban hell if I’ve ever seen it, and I don’t know how you made it out of there without losing your sanity. You couldn’t get me to live there if you paid me.” He continued. “You wanna be blue the whole time? No problem. I’m from New York. We’ve got all kinds of weird there. We celebrate our weird there; freaks, mutants, all kinds. I’m pretty sure there’s a huge magical community there, now that I think about it. Some of the clothes I’ve seen, gotta be wizards.

Now, I won’t lie. There are assholes everywhere, and New York is no exception, but you won’t have to hide. I probably should have mentioned this sooner, but I sort of bullied the Dursleys into signing custody of you over to me on the mundane side of things. I really should have asked you first, but I wanted it to be a surprise. You can live with me in New York. I don’t see anything wrong with you living there, and still coming to school here if that’s what you want, or we can keep living in London. I’m kinda liking it there, though I’d have to move out of the flat I’m in, and probably apply for temporary citizenship. You can teach me the slang, and- oomph!”

She’d practically launched herself at him, hugging him like her life depended on it.

“I thought…I thought if Millie was scared of me, my other friends would be too, and you’d never want to be my brother!” She sobbed into his shoulder.

“That girl thought a demon had eaten you.” He tells her quietly, sounding scandalized. She snorted.

“So I over reacted?” She guessed, sitting back against the wall again.

“Eh, you’re going through magical puberty. I assume it’s filled with hormones, and like a crazy amount of glitter. Magical anything makes me think of glitter.” Tony shrugged. “Also, I expect it means you to randomly burst into song for no reason, and call animals to you that can clean your room.”

“Why aren’t you bothered by this?” She sniffled. “I’m blue.”

“My mom had a box of photographs, pictures of you. I didn’t know for years, but when your godfather found me, I went looking for that box, and discovered the pictures your parents sent.” He admitted. “You were this kind of blue in some of them. They called you their little blueberry.”

She was hugging him again before he could think of anything else to say.

“There’s so much I want to tell you, so much I can’t.” She spoke quietly through her sobbing. “It’s not about whether I can trust you. I don’t know if you can protect your mind like I can. There are people in this world that can pick out your thoughts, search you mind for memories, and you wouldn’t even know. They wouldn’t even ask if they could, or wonder why they’d even need your permission.”

“Then I’ll figure it out. I’ll figure out how to protect my mind. You’re so incredibly strong already. I’ll figure out how to be strong too. You’ll never be without family again. I promise.” He whispered into her hair. Leaning her back a bit so he could look at her, he continued on as normal. “So, I’m cool with you being blue, but can you dial back the ice a bit? I’ve got frost in my goatee, and that’s not a good look for me.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“So, I’m cool with you being blue, but can you dial back the ice a bit? I’ve got frost in my goatee, and that’s not a good look for me.”

Chapter 28

Tony hadn’t been able to stay long after that. She wasn’t really sure how Professor Snape had bypassed Hogwarts security wards to get Sirius and Tony there, and she wasn’t going to ask. Professor Dumbledore already suspected something, most likely because her fellow Slytherins couldn’t protect their minds as well as Hera could naturally, while Hermione and the twins had only just begun learning. Neville was actually coaching them, having teamed up with Draco to get the job done. Those two had certainly come a long way from where they’d started First Year.

She continued training for the Second Task as time passed, and was as ready as she was going to be, but she still didn’t feel good about it. Hermione hadn’t been there for bed checks the night before, and the day of the task was at hand. Hera had a bad feeling about that, but hoped she was wrong. When she saw Ron also was missing at breakfast, she raced out of the Great Hall. She couldn’t let them be taken. She couldn’t!

“Point me Ronald Weasley.” She cast, having her wand flat in her palm. It did nothing. “Point me Hermione Granger!”

Still nothing. She was beginning to panic.

“Harry Potter!” Dobby called, suddenly popping up in front of her. “Harry Potter must be calming down. We can not be gettings your Tony here right now.”

“They’re both gone.” Hera shook her head and started pacing. “What do I do? What do I do? What would Hermione do?”

“Dobby is not knowings what Miss Hermie would do, but you will be taking this, and saving your Wheezy.” Dobby insisted, shoving a grubby cucumber looking thing with grayish green rat tails into her hand.

“My Wheezy? What’s a Wheezy?” She asked, temporarily distracted and mildly confused by both the gift and his words.

“Your Wheezy. Wheezy who is giving Dobby his sweater!” Dobby explained. Hera froze.

“They have Ron.” She realized, remembering how Ron had promised to give Dobby his old sweaters; the ones he couldn’t fit anymore. Dobby nodded emphatically. “Do they have Hermione too?”

“They do, but only Wheezy is your task, the thing you’ll miss most.” Dobby warned her urgently.

“Thank you, Dobby. What is this? What do I do with it?” She asked, holding up the grubby thing he’d given her, already making rapid plans in her mind.

“This is being gillyweed. Eat it, and you can breathe underwater.” Dobby explained, patting her hand. “Dobby will be missed soon. Dobby and Winky has been volunteering in the kitchens. You take this. Save your Wheezy!”

“Thank you, Dobby. I have to go get ready now!” Hera conveyed her gratitude before he popped back to the kitchens, and she bolted for the dungeons.

...

She wasn’t sure she’d brought enough, but it was going to have to do. She’d worn cargo pants over her skintight scuba suit, stuffing the pockets with everything she’d thought she might need and then some. Thankfully said pockets were already prepared with all the appropriate charms for such a thing, or she would have never made it down there in time. Waving off Ludo, Hera stood with the other Champions. Unlike last time, she had no witty jokes for them, and something about her grave continence gave them pause.

When the applause sounded, Hera didn’t pay attention to what the others were doing. Taking off her socks and shoes, she slowly made her way into the lake. The change in her skin was nearly instant, turning dark blue in what must be cold waters. To her it felt pleasantly cool, and maybe when she got enough courage up, she’d look at that Blood Inheritance Test to find out why she was like this. For now, she took out the gillyweed in her pocket, and ate it.

Dobby hadn’t told her what would happen, and perhaps it had been foolish of her to accept the help without knowing such things, so she was quite unprepared to feel as if she were being smothered by a pillow. Her head was spinning, she couldn’t breathe, and there was a splitting pain along the sides of her neck. Gills? Gills! She had gills! What was she going to do…oh! She was an idiot! Diving into the water, she took what felt like the first breath of air she’d had in ages. It felt like the breath of life, like she’d never known anything better.

Her hands had webbing, and now she was no longer surprised by the blue that spread over them. Twisting around, she saw that her feet had become elongated, looking almost like slippers. She could work with this, and she was already on a time crunch, not knowing how long this gave her. At least she had Tony’s breathing apparatus as a backup in case the gillyweed faded from her system. Hera looked around, trying to decide where to go, when something with claws gripped her ankle.

Grindylows. Nasty little things, if her memory of DADA lessons with Lupin served well. A small horned water demon. This one was poking out of the weed, its long fingers clutched tightly around Hera’s ankle, fangs bared. Where was her wand? Where was her wand?! In the time she’d wasted searching for it, two more grindlylows had risen out of the weed, seizing at her trousers in their attempts to drag her down.

‘Relashio!’ She thought, casting the spell nonverbally.

Instead of sending sparks at the grindylows, the spell pelted them with what seemed to be jets of boiling water. Where it struck them, angry red patches appeared on their green skin. She pulled her ankle free, swimming as fast as she could, sending more jets of hot water over her shoulder at random. The one time she’d chanced a look over her shoulders, the sight had shocked her, and she’d been surrounded by the creatures. It had taken physically kicking one in the face to get them to leave her alone. The grindylow had let go, floated off in a daze, and the others had taken to cover in the weed as they shook their fists at her; Apparently, they didn’t take to physical altercations well.

“How are you getting on?”

Instantly on the defensive, Hera whirled around to face the new threat, only to see Moaning Myrtle floating in front of him.

“Myrtle?” She realized, her voice sounding far more musical than before, a very large bubble escaping her mouth. Myrtle actually giggled. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited much this year.”

“It’s okay. This year’s been pretty eventful. You want to try over there!” Myrtle stated, pointing towards Hera’s right. “I won’t come with you…I don’t like them much. They always chase me when I get too close…”

“Thank you!” Hera replied, and began to swim away.

“See you later, Hera! I hope you die!” Myrtle called out happily, in parting.

“If I do, I’ll try to come back so we can hang out more!” Hera replied with a big grin, giving her a thumbs up, before swimming off.

When she was alone, the elevated mood she’d enjoyed at finding an ally down here dissipated, and she was reminded why she’d been so angry before. Ron and Hermione were down here, their lives unnecessarily put at risk, because the adults around them had chosen not to care about the life of a child…again. Her anger returned tenfold, sending her swimming much faster than before, till she began catching parts of the song. The dwellings she came upon were in clusters, crude stone stained with algae. Slowing down, she saw faces in the dark windows, faces that looked nothing like the little mermaid she’d seen in the Slytherin bathroom.

The merpeople here had greyish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Hera as she swam past. One or two of them emerged from their homes to watch her better, and she noticed how powerful their silver tails looked. The further she swam, the more numerous the dwellings became. There were gardens of weed around some of them, and she swore she saw a pet grindylow on a rope tied to a stake outside one place.

Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching her eagerly, pointing at her webbed hands and gills. A whole crowd of merfolk floated in front of houses lined in what looked like a their village square. A choir of them were singing in the middle, calling the Champions towards them. Behind them was a crude sort of statue of a gigantic merperson, and tied to the tail of that statue were the four hostages. Ron was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. A silver haired girl who looked no older than eight, who Hera felt for certain was Fleur’s sister, was on his other side.

“You would do this…to children?” She asked, and the nearest of the merpeople reared back in surprise.

“Dumbledore sought our help with the tournament…” The nearest, a merman with a long green beard and a choker of shark fangs, carrying a rather eye catching spear, replied once he recovered from his shock. “He assured us that all of the champions are up to the task. Take your hostage and go.”

It was strange how they didn’t stop her from swimming over to the ‘hostages’. She could tell her friends were still breathing, little bubbles trailed up, giving her hope as they did so. Still, she checked Ron’s pulse first. However, when she went to check the others, hands from more than a dozen merfolk grabbed her. It took that many because she struggled to free herself of them as she had the grindylows, but they finally managed to pull her away from her goal.

“Only your hostage.” The one she’d spoken with before reminded her.

“She’s my friend too!” Hera insisted, shoving the merman away from her, and pointing back to Hermione. “I’m not leaving them down here.”

“The rules were clear.” He warned, raising the spear now. “We have a treaty with Headmaster Dumbledore. Do not start a war you can not win, little champion. Take your hostage and go.”

“My name is Hera Potter,” Hera declared, raising her hand to call forth as many blade like shards of ice to form around her as her magic could muster. “and Dumbledore does not speak for me.”

...

Cedric came upon the most unusual sight as he came to where the song sounded from. Hera Potter was floating in front of the hostages, hundreds...maybe thousands of shards of ice in between her and the merfolk of the Black Lake. Oh, and she was blue; very very blue. She looked all the more fierce with red eyes, though they softened in familiarity when they flicked over to him. It was a good thing he had been able to see the lightning bolt with her hair floating about as it was; otherwise he might not have recognized her.

“Cedric, what happened?” She demanded. How she made her voice able to be heard down here, and be so musical on top of that, he didn’t know. “What took you so long?”

‘Got lost’ He mouthed to her from behind his bubblehead charm. ‘Fleur and Krum are on their way’

“Hurry up. You don’t have a lot of time left.” She replied firmly.

He wanted to tell her that she didn’t either, but thought better of it. She didn’t seem to want to leave the others behind, and he didn’t have the kind of time it would take to convince someone as stubborn Hera to abandon her chosen path. Instead, he took the knife he’d brought with him out of his pocket, and cut Cho free. Only after he’d freed her did he hesitate, but Hera jerked her head towards the surface, something he took to mean she wanted him to get out of here. At that he took off, hoping the others would get there soon.

...

Victor had left with Hermione, and when she got back to the surface, they were going to have a long talk about what she was going to do if he ever tried to bite her friend in half again. For now, she waited for Fleur. However as time ticked away, the merfolk began closing in, and she realized her time was coming to a close. She sent the ice shards after them without warning, and rushed to Ron, freeing him with the knife in her pocket. Another wave of ice shards, and she managed to free most of the little girl.

Before she could free her entirely, however, one of the merfolk slammed into her from the side. It took the breath out of her. She knew her knife to be lost, but then another appeared in her hand, and she didn’t question it when she saw the merman nearing the little girl again; instead throwing it without a thought, causing the merman to turn his attention back to her. This was worse than fighting grindylows, and there were many more of them besides. Every kick she landed, every hit with her fists or elbows, only seemed to bring about another enemy as she twisted and fought her way to freedom. At her wits end, she tried one last thing, unable to think of anything else.

“Expelliarimus! Immobulus Maxima!” She shouted, arching her arm around her in an effort to cast as wide a spell as possible.

Immediately, several things happened. The lead green bearded merman’s spear sailed towards her. As this was happening, every merperson froze, and started drifting with the current. After catching the spear, she paid the merpeople no more mind, going back to the little girl and freeing her the rest of the way. Their arms were still tied, so Hera put the spear through the loop their arms made, and began swimming to the surface; one on either side of her.

It was very slow work. She couldn’t use her hands to help her, as they were holding the spear that carried Ron and the girl. That gillyweed had to have some kind of time limit, she knew. She was beginning to feel the pain in her neck again, so she figured she was coming upon it soon. Risking one hand free, she fished for the breathing apparatus, and continued on. There were merpeople suddenly surrounding her, swimming with ease as she struggled to continue, but she didn’t know why they were there.

Were they there to drag her back down when the time limit was up? Were they angry that she had disarmed their leader? Had that even been their leader? Did they perhaps eat humans? Damn it, she didn’t want to get eaten! She kicked harder, and noticed her feet had turned back into…well…back into feet. Then she was breaking the surface, holding the trident above her head as she freed Ron and then the girl, the spear falling into the water.

All around her, wild, green-haired heads were merging out of the water with her. Why were they smiling? The crowd in the stands was making a great deal of noise; shouting, screaming, all of them standing on their feet. All that mattered to her was that Ron was alive. He and the girl were coughing up water, but they were alive.

Ron blinked a bit as she continued making her way towards the shore, before blurting out. “Why are you blue? You’re eyes weren’t always red, were they? I think I’d have noticed that.”

She glared at him until he took out the apparatus in her mouth.

“It’s a recent development.” She quipped. “Help me with the girl. I’m not sure she can swim well.”

“So, how mad are you?” Ron asked with a casual air, as he took to helping her with the girl in question.

“I’m thinking of punching the headmaster in the face, the other judges too.” Hera growled. “I’m used to adults not giving a shite about my life, so risking it is nothing, but to risk others…children…whether the risk is real or imagined…”

“And why are we surrounded by merfolk?” Ron asked, furtively looking around at them all. “Also, why do they look like they’ve been in a fight?”

“I don’t know, and because they have.” She replied sternly. "With me."

They pulled Fleur’s sister through the water, back toward the bank where the judges stood watching, twenty merpeople accompanying them like a guard of honour. Hera could see Madam Pomfrey fussing over Hermione, Krum, Cedric, and Cho, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets. Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman stood beaming at Hera and Ron from the bank, though they paled slightly at seeing the glare Hera was giving them. She could only imagine the sight she made; bloodied and angry, surrounded by merfolk as she was, not to mention the blue skin and red eyes she was currently sporting. Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.

“Ron, go to Madam Pomfrey.” She ordered, but when she saw that he was drooling over Fleur, she flipped him on the ear hard enough that he nearly dropped the apparatus; which she quickly snatched back for safe keeping. “Go to Madam Pomfrey, or the next flip is to the bits.”

Ron both paled and looked mulish, having obviously wanted to ogle Fleur some more, but did as she ordered.

“Gabrielle!” Fleur shouted, breaking free from Madame Maxime and rushing to Hera, not caring that she was surrounded by merfolk. “Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she ’urt?”

“She’s alright.” Hera assured her, gently handing the girl over to her. “I got there first, and tried to wait for you, but when you didn’t show, I-”

“It was ze grindylows…zey attacked me.” Fleur admitted tearfully. “…oh, Gabrielle, I thought…I thought…”

“Come here, you.” said Madam Pomfrey, suddenly just there, seizing Hera and pulling her over to Hermione and the others. She was wrapped up in a blanket in short order, and had some hot potion forced down her throat, pepperup, if she was to judge by the steam coming out of her ears.

“Hera, I’m so sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you.” Hermione began. “I knew how you were going to worry, and I tried to tell them what a bad idea it was.”

“I did too.” Ron admitted sheepishly. “Oh, hey look, your skin is turning back!”

When Madam Pomfrey’s back was turned, Hera wriggled out of the blanket and pulled them both into a hug, one which they quickly returned once they’d gotten over the shock of her initiating it.

“I didn’t know what would happen, couldn’t leave either of you down there. How was I supposed to choose? My first friends, my first friends, and they took you. They took you, and put you down in that lake, and I couldn’t…I couldn't...” Hera whispered as she hugged them to her tightly. “What if something had happened to either of you? What if you had died? What would I have done?”

“We weren’t in any real danger, Hera.” Hermione soothed. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but-”

“Something still could have gone wrong,” Ron insisted quietly, as he rubbed little circles on Hera’s back. “even with all Dumbledore’s precautions. There’s a reason this is called a Death Tournament.”

“I can’t lose you, either of you, my first friends.” Hera continued. “If anything ever happens to you, if they ever do anything that gets you killed, there won’t be anywhere they can hide from me. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll-”

“…’era?” Fleur interrupted, having been brought over by Madam Pomfrey. Hera plied herself away from her friends reluctantly, but relaxed upon seeing the extreme regret on her face. “You saved ’er, even though she was not your ’ostage.”

“I couldn’t leave her there. She’s a child.” Hera explained, shaking. “I couldn’t…”

They were interrupted by Professor Snape, who was looking more than a bit bewildered.

“Potter, I’ve been sent to fetch you.” He stated, straight to the point. “Dumbledore claims the mermish want to speak with you.”

“Oh dear.” Hera sighed. “Best get it over with then.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

They were interrupted by Professor Snape, who was looking more than a bit bewildered.

“Potter, I’ve been sent to fetch you.” He stated, straight to the point. “Dumbledore claims the mermish want to speak with you.”

“Oh dear.” Hera sighed. “Best get it over with then.”

Chapter 29

She saw Dumbledore standing in the water a ways, talking with the mermish in whispers. It was easy to see how the water affected him, as he shivered and applied warming charms to himself. He looked as bewildered as Professor Snape did, looking over at her every so often before returning to talking with the mermish. The other judges had gone over to their table to deliberate, so she barely paid them any notice, except to note that Percy was once again covering for Mr. Crouch. Finally, she stalked out into the lake, sighing in annoyance as her skin once again began turning dark blue.

“I really do insist on being here. Hera doesn’t understand mermish, and so I’ll have to translate.” Dumbledore explained to Professor Snape, in that grandfatherly genial way of his.

“I had no idea we were on first name basis, Albus.” Hera replies innocently, and oh he did not like that.

“Hera, I am your headmaster.” Dumbledore admonished quietly. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to call me by my first name.”

“You’re right. It’s not appropriate for either of us to address each other with such familiarity. Perhaps you should call me Miss Potter, as does every other teacher here, or Lady Potter if you really want to stand on formality, Headmaster.” She reminded him pointedly. This was apparently the year she didn’t give a shite, but wow his shocked face was worth money. “I can take it from here, Professor.”

“You do not understand Mermish.” Dumbledore objected.

“Actions can be a language all their own, Professor.” Hera replied innocently. “Yours have certainly spoken for you far more effectively than your words ever have.”

The green bearded merman she’d mainly spoken with when near the hostages turned his head as if to hide his silent laughter, but his shaking shoulders betrayed him, and the others didn’t bother hiding theirs.

“Very well. Do not take long, Miss Potter. The other Champions will be ready shortly.” Dumbledore stated, trying to regain some measure of authority, before making his way back towards the shore.

“It might not be wise to provoke him, Potter.” Snape remarked quietly, still standing just off to her side, shivering slightly.

“Might not be wise, but it sure is fun.” She chirped, now thoroughly amused, before giving her undivided attention to the merfolk in front of her. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I have no doubt I will pay for that somehow, but teasing Dumbledore never gets old. At least, he means well…I think? Why did you wish to speak with me? I thought you’d be angry…I mean…You’re still bleeding.”

She waves towards his wounds as if to prove her point.

“You dropped this.” The merman replied, handing something to her. It was the knife she’d lost when trying to rescue Gabrielle, a gift from Sirius.

“You found-”

“And this.” He added, presenting her with the spear she’d taken from him. At this she stood at attention, realizing there was something far more significant going on than what she’d originally thought.

“Don’t…Don’t you kind of need that?” Hera asked stupidly. “You know…to protect your people and stuff?”

The Mermish looked at her pointedly.

“…It’s just…” She stammered. “…I’d be selfish if I took it…I don’t want to be insulting, but…why would you even want to give that to me?”

“Many would not think twice at taking trophies of battle when offered, yet even in this you set yourself apart.” The merman noted, watching her fidget. “Come forward, Hera Potter, and accept the gift I offer.”

“I…um…yeah, sure…okay.” She replied awkwardly, shuffling forward a bit until he nodded for her to stop.

“Lower your head.” He directed, and she did so in confusion. “I give you this, Hera Potter, as an offer of friendship. Rise and count yourself among friends.”

He had slipped the necklace of shark teeth around her neck. Shite. There was no way she could leave this as is. Without warning, she started searching her pockets. There had to be something in here she could give him. She wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but knew that it would be insulting to him for her to walk away without accepting his offer of friendship properly.

“I know it’s not much, but here. Since we’re gonna be friends and all.” She insisted, unceremoniously shoving a guiding crystal into his hands. “It’s always supposed to catch the light, at least a little.”

“I look forward to seeing what becomes of you, Hera Potter.” He teased, before he and the others began disappearing back under the water.

“Say, what’s your name anyway?” Hera called out, causing the merfolk to all turn to her.

“You did not know?” The merman laughed in good-natured humour. “I am Chieftain Kailani!”

Seeing the shocked look on her face, he laughed all the more for it, before disappearing once more under the water. Turning around to make her way back to the shore, she stopped at the sheer number of people staring at her in shock. She had the strangest sense that they understood the significance of what just happened a lot better than she did. Even Professor Snape was looking at her with something close to thinly veiled astonishment. She looked down at the necklace of shark teeth, wondering just what she’d gotten herself into.

“They’re not just staring at me because I’m all red eyed and blue right now, are they?” She asked, with a resigned sigh.

“Afraid not, Potter.” Snape replied, eyeing her speculatively for a moment. “You have no idea what just happened, do you?”

“I didn’t even know who that was till the end of the conversation.” She admitted quietly.

“I shall endeavour to explain on the way, after you tell me what was said. The judges are ready.” Snape offered. Hera sighed as she nodded, and began trudging her way back to shore, already dreading the long conversation that was going to result from this.

“Mate, I hope you know you’re insane.” Ron declared, plopping down in front of her across the table in the Great Hall. “Dating Hermione while Krum is? That’s bad business, that is, especially with Skeeter trying to make a big stink about you turning blue.”

“Of course, I know I’m insane, but what are you talking about, Ron?” Hera asked in confusion over her pumpkin juice. She had a feeling she was going to need a more fortifying drink this morning. “I’m not dating Hermione, or Krum before you ask.”

He slid over a copy of Witch Weekly, and Hera was already rolling her eyes. That useless rag wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on. She might be biased, of course, having a vested interest in the Quibbler. Looking over the article he’d pointed to, she could see what he was talking about, and began plotting a course of action. She didn’t know what Hermione could have done to piss off the reporter, but she wasn’t about to let Rita Skeeter drag her through the mud like this.

“Did you know we’re dating?” Hermione asked casually, as she sat down next to her, a newer article of the Daily Prophet in hand.

“I had no idea.” Hera murmured, and then tried to pull the biggest sad puppy eyes she could. “I wish you would have told me, Hermione. How could you break my heart so?”

“What we had was very special, but my heart longs for another.” Hermione replied with all the drama of soap opera, even going so far as to hook her finger under Hera’s chin to pull her slightly closer. The kids nearby were eating it up. “Don’t worry. According to Witch Weekly, you’re dating him too.”

The two girls were able to hold each others eyes in smoldering tension for just a moment, before descending into laughter.

“Well, I’m glad you two think this is funny.” Ron grouched. “Mum reads this stuff, and she’ll think you’re both…scarlet witches!”

That just made the giggling worse.

“A scarlet witch?” Hera tittered. “Should we…should we wear red letters next?”

“I am almost scared to ask.” Victor remarked, as he strolled up to them, sitting next to Ron.

“Did you know Witch Weekly says Hera and I are dating each other, and cheating on each other with you?” Hermione asks casually, before descending into more giggles.

“Don’t worry, I’m already suing them for libel.” Draco commented from Hera’s left. “They mention me as a jilted lover, as if Hera would have ever left me. I’m too pretty.”

That shocked them out of their laughter, and then sent them right back into it.

“Seriously though, what are we going to do?” Ron asked, trying to get them to focus.

“Tony said this is the sort of stupidity that people send death threats for, which is worse for us. We can send curses, poisons, compulsions, all kinds of things through the mail. There’s no regulation, and as far as I know, Hogwarts doesn’t have anything to block out that sort of thing in the wards.” Hera replied, already returning to her plotting and breakfast. “So we’ll be going over detection charms in study group. I’m hoping there’s an instant return to sender spell that disguises it as another letter, but let’s not get too hopeful.”

“You and Granger should get toadstone jewelry of some kind.” Draco suggested. “You’ll be getting the bulk of the letters, and some of them might send…gifts.”

“Bloody hell, those are expensive.” Ron exclaimed under his breath.

“It’s because of how rare they are.” Neville shrugged. “There might be alternatives, but none as good as those.”

Hera got an idea, writing it down quickly in her little notebook, before pocketing it. Professor Snape was trying to get her into the habit of keeping her ideas to herself until she’d worked out all of the possible problems. Potions was a competitive field, and many stole the ideas of others simply because they’d spoken them aloud in conversation. She had no doubt other fields were similar in that regard. If there was a way to make lab grown diamonds and other jewels, maybe there was a way to apply that to a toadstone.

“Ouch!” Hermione cried out in pain, and Hera looked up to see that Hermione had opened up a letter.

Professor Snape was already making his way down the length of the table by the time Hera had started dabbing the stuff away with a wet cloth, Professor McGonagall hot on his heels.

“Undiluted bubatuber pus.” Ron noted, gingerly picking up the envelope Hermione had opened.

“You’d best get to the hospital wing, Miss Granger.” Professor Snape stated, running a cleaning charm over her hands. “I’ll send a message to Madam Pomfrey to be expecting you. The rest of you need to get to class. The bell will be ringing any moment now.”

Victor was already rising to escort Hermione to the Infirmary.

“Don’t worry about class. I’ll give you a copy of my notes.” Hera stated before Hermione could ask about it, and the girl finally allowed Victor to guide her away from the table.

“I warned her not to annoy Skeeter.” Ron sighed, watching their friend leave.

“Let me get this straight. Your friend gets attacked because an adult spread lies about them, and your response is to blame said friend. Have I got the measure of it?” Hera demanded, her ire turned to him. Ron had never turned so pale before. “Rita Skeeter is an adult, one who knows the powers words can have, and she used them to stir up trouble for a child. Hermione is hurt because of that, and your first response is blame her, to gloat that you were right?”

“What? That’s not…I didn’t mean…” Ron stammered. Hera just shook her head at him, and stalked off to class.

...

It was official. Nifflers were adorable, and she totally wanted one. They already shared a love of shiny things. She thought about how shiny New York must be, at least New York City, and decided that was probably not a good idea to introduce a Niffler to that kind of environment. She imagined Tony’s workroom alone had lots of shiny things in it. It was hard to give the little guy back, but then again she also had to make sure it didn’t have any of her things either. A lot of students had to do that.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the gold at the World Cup?” Ron asks her after class. It still takes her a full minute to realize what he’d meant by that. Apparently, they were ignoring his comment earlier; for now.

“I did. At least, I think I did?” She replied, brows furrowed as she thought back on it. “Muggles might not know about magic, but even they have stories about leprechauns. People would go searching for their gold, thinking they could steal it from them, and the leprechauns would always trick them out of it. Of course, they think it’s just old stories now. Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t know leprechaun gold vanished after a few hours, and I paid you for your gift with it.” Ron reminded her.

“Ron, I barely believe the gold in my own vault is real.” Hera pointed out. He just looked at her like he couldn’t grasp the concept. “Think about it, Ron. If you woke up one day, and got told you were rich, would you believe it?”

“Well, when you put it like that, I guess not.” Ron chuckled.

“When I met my account manager at Gringotts and he told me I was rich, the first thing I said to him was ‘Prove it’, because I didn’t believe something like that could happen to me.” Hera admitted, sheepishly. “Knowing what I know about goblins now, I’m surprised he didn’t just cut me down then and there. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed like he’d never heard anything so amusing before.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 30

That evening at dinner, Hermione met a challenge she had not thought she would face; learning how to feed herself again. None of the other Slytherins laughed at her, which she was still pleasantly surprised by. Instead, several had vowed vengeance for the dishonour to their House. She thought she’d nearly insulted them by insisting they not do anything, but they were more than pleased when they realized she wanted to take care of this personally. After all, the person who sent the puss wasn’t the problem; Rita Skeeter was. They promised resources, should she need them, and wished her luck in her first foray into vengeance.

She was shocked out of her thoughts, in which she was mainly staring at her nonfunctional hands, by Victor. He was sitting on her right, fork with a small bit of food on it in hand. The little smile he gave said that he’d noticed how brightly she was blushing, and who wouldn’t, but still he persisted; holding the fork like a hesitant offering. When she accepted the bite, blushing all the more for it, Hera tapped her on her left shoulder. She was not expecting to find another fork that held a small offering of food, though Hera’s smile was a lot more wickedly mischievous than Victor’s had been.

“Did you two plan this?” Hermione asked quietly, after accepting the bite.

“Hermione, denying the rumours will do nothing but fan them. I plan on leaning into them so hard, people will wish they’d never believed that stupid cow. So of course I plan on feeding my girlfriend in her time of need. I won’t even be lying. You are a girl who is my friend, and you need food.” Hera replied impishly.

“V’ile I also, of course, plan on feeding my girlfriend in her time of need,” Victor added. “though you are decidedly more than only my friend.”

“This will make the rumours worse.” Hermione insisted, though she couldn’t help but be inwardly pleased when Victor offered her more food. It certainly made things easier than trying to muck it about with her hands as bandaged as they were.

“Of course it will, which will give us more opportunities to catch that lying cow at whatever it is she’s doing to get what information she does get right.” Hera concluded. “Luna and Colin want to do an article in the Quibbler for it, which I said I’d talk with you about first, explaining the full truth of it all, and because not many take the newspaper seriously, no one will believe it, which will set the trap all the better.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Hermione asked Victor.

“It is sound plan.” Victor nodded. “Remind me never to make Hera angry. She is quite protective of friends. I still haff nightmares about shark incident.”

“You scolded him for trying to rescue me?” Hermione asked Hera under her breath in disbelief.

“It needed to be said.” Hera replied, completely unapologetic. “The boy tried to gnaw the ropes off your body with his own transfigured shark teeth. What if he’d gnawed you in half on accident?”

“Did you tell Ron about the plan?” Hermione asked, having a sudden thought.

“Yeah. Why?” Hera replied, another forkful of food in hand.

Hermione makes a show of leaning in to whisper something in her ear, and says. “Because he looks like a tomato that’s about to explode.”

Hera looked over, saw that Ron was indeed glowering at them all, and sighed. “That idiot. We just talked about this.”

“What’s his problem?” She wondered, though she hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

“Oh, I can actually answer that one.” Draco interjected from his place in front of Hera. “He has a crush on the both of you.”

Both girls sputtered at this.

“Think about it. He realized you were both girls at about the same time.” Draco pointed out. “He was angry at you for going to the Ball with Krum, and angry at Potter for going to the Ball with me. He’s got the emotional maturity of a teaspoon, so he does what all immature imbeciles do. You know that whole tripe about boys pulling pigtails of the girls they like? Yeah, it’s only the immature little shites that do that, and you can not tell me that Weaslebee doesn’t fit that profile.”

“Wait, so what would you do if you liked someone?” Hera asked, now morbidly curious.

“Can’t tell you that, darling. You might actually fall for me then.” Draco teased, and now Hera was sporting a nice blush of her own.

“I suppose I could do worse.” The girl replied, eyeing him critically.

“Of course you could. I’m the best.” He insisted with a grin, preening like a peacock. “I am a Malfoy, after all.”

“And so humble too.” She snickered at him.

Of course the letters kept coming, which were easily taken care of, and they all got to practice their detection spells. Professor Snape taught them all a nifty spell to silence a Howler, though it was mainly used to insure privacy in conversations. This he did after Hera hit a Howler with a spell so hard that it exploded into a shower of snow, changing the weather of the room, and incidentally starting a massive snowball fight that had taken a full three hours to calm down; mainly because Hera had discovered that she could mold things out of snow and ice, and proceeded to craft herself a nice little fort from which to defend her ever growing stash of snowballs. She had yet to find a return to sender spell that disguised what was in the envelope, but that just inspired her to work on creating one, though she had yet to complete the research. Rita Skeeter kept printing articles via Witch Weekly, and Ron seemed to be in a strop every time he saw the three of them hanging out together; no matter how many times they reminded him they weren’t actually together together.

Both Hera and Hermione had weathered the mail admirably, but that all stopped at Easter, when Hedwig brought Mrs. Weasley’s gifts. Hera’s chocolate egg was the size of a dragon’s, Ron’s as well; and considering they’d actually seen one, they could accurately say that. Hermione’s, on the other hand, was barely the size of a chicken’s. It also came with a Howler both Hera and Hermione had been too shocked to silence, and Mrs. Weasley’s opinions blasted throughout the Great Hall. The entire room seemed to chill in that one moment, and then Hera calmly stood and walked out of the Great Hall with a quiet grace, leaving her chocolate egg behind. Ron abandoning all decorum and bolting after the girl a moment later was not wholly unexpected.

...

That evening found Hera in the makeshift potions lab she’d been using for her mastery. She immediately started gathering ingredients, separating them, going back for more. She was not expecting to see Professor Snape inspecting the potion notes after her fourth trip to the storage room she shared with the potions classroom. He didn’t berate her for going through his classroom ingredients cupboard, as that was what it was there for. Instead, he went over the recipe she was planning on attempting, making little notes as he did so.

“The concentration in your potion will be too high if you follow this exactly. I’ve made corrections in the margins for you to look over.” Professor Snape commented. “Other than that, I see no issue. Will you be needing assistance, or do you already have help?”

At that moment, Fred and George burst into the room.

“I see. Well then, carry on. I expect accurate notes on readings, results, and possibly a paper about it all later. Expect to be published.” The man continued, before leaving the classroom as if he wasn’t seeing students out of bed after hours.

“Did he just-”

“Did we just-”

“Are we really-”

“Yes, no, and maybe.” Hera answered, as she began to prepare the ingredients. “Now wash up. We’ve a lot of work to do this weekend.”

...

“Where’d you even learn about this potion anyway?” George asked. Fred was busy chopping up things, or else he would have contributed to the sentence.

“Dreamt it.” Hera admitted, blushing as she concentrated on counting the stirs she made in the cauldron.

“And it won’t…” George hesitated, uncertain how to voice his worry.

“It won’t hurt anyone.” Hera confirmed, eyes on the cauldron still. “Professor Snape wouldn’t have given the go ahead for us to work on it without him if it did, especially knowing what I planned to do with it. He just fixed the concentration, made a few suggestions in the margins.”

“What’s it supposed to do?” Fred asked, before passing her a bit of the prepared ingredients, which she tossed in with a flash of light from the brew.

“That would be telling.” Hera replied with a mischievous grin. “Trust me. It’ll work just fine.”

“Are you sure?” George asked, now morbidly curious.

She just snorted. “I don’t know why it shouldn’t. Worked on Sif easily enough.”

“I thought you said you dreamt this.” Fred pointed out. He looked to George and mouthed ‘Sif?’ George shrugged.

“I did. Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” She replied, unbothered. “It’s one of the reasons I’m so good at Divination. Just because you’re dreaming, doesn’t mean you aren’t experiencing something real.”

“Where’s Hermione?” George decided to ask. They could figure out who Sif was later.

“Oh, she’s trying to figure out how that cow Skeeter is getting onto the grounds when she’s been banned.” Hera replied easily. “Muggles have these little devices we call ‘bugs’ that help them listen in, so they can hear conversations without being there. They’re called bugs because of how small and unnoticeable they can be. While magic interferes with muggle tech, it doesn’t mean there are not magical equivalents. I just don’t know what those are. So, Hermione’s on the hunt.”

“And she didn’t think to ask us?” George asked, feigning insult.

“I think she’s taking it on as a personal vendetta.” Hera snickered. “Something like that? Sometimes, it’s best to go it alone.”

It was oddly silent in the Burrow. Arthur wasn’t sure if he should count his blessings or worry. Molly had been in a right state upon learning that Tony Stark, one of the most publicly influential muggles in the US and the world at large, was Hera’s brother. She thought it was baseless lies that besmirched Lily and James’ reputation; which is how Rita Skeeter had publicized it, of course. She’d even gone so far as to send the man a Howler; something Arthur had not been too happy about, as it meant work at the Ministry trying to smooth things over. Just because he was in the know didn't mean it was automatically okay to send him things like that, as he could have been with those that were not in the know.

Then she’d seen the articles in Witch Weekly suggesting that Hera and Hermione were in a sort of triad cheating triangle situation of teenage drama together with Victor Krum. Instead of asking the girls about it, or asking any of their children at the school, Molly had sent a Howler with the Easter eggs. He’d sent an inquiry, knowing Molly hadn’t or wouldn’t, and discovered the girls and Victor Krum were not in a triad relationship teenage drama cheating thing together. They were all friends, something that seemed to send Ronald into fits Arthur likened to the boy’s mother, but Hera was actually quite worried about the articles. Someone had sent undiluted bubatuber puss to Hermione, out of anger over said articles, and they hadn’t caught it in time.

What if it had been something worse? What if it had killed her? He could only imagine the state she’d been in with the second task. Hera had deep seated issues with losing the people she cared for, especially where she’d had no one for years. He wouldn’t believe it that those muggles cared for her, not with what she told him of her life, and he couldn’t imagine being confronted with the possible loss of those she’d chosen to care for now.

For that matter, why wasn’t anyone outraged that a fourteen year old girl was being forced to compete in a competition meant for ‘Of Age’ witches and wizards? Arthur knew for a fact that was how she’d gotten herself out of Albus’ magical guardianship. The things she kept having to confront, the things his kids were asking him because they were worried about her, boggled his mind; he didn’t know how she was handling it all. Molly now saw the twins as lost souls, because they’d become Slytherin, and worried at Hera’s fate for the same reason; never mind that all of their children had tried to jump ship for the girl, or that Slytherin could help her navigate the trouble she found herself in far better than Gryffindor ever could. After that quiet talk with Charlie over a liberal amount of Fire Whiskey, he knew the girl still had plenty of Gryffindor recklessness in all that Sytherin guile.

He wasn’t sure how Charlie knew that Hera could speak to dragons, or even how Hera knew she could speak to dragons, and quite frankly he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It probably had something to do with Hagrid. Oh, who was he kidding? Of course, it had something to do with Hagrid, and his love of ‘inneresting’ creatures. She had punched that hippogriph last year.

“Molly?” Arthur called out as he walked through the living room and into the kitchen, thinking to get himself a nice cuppa after the hard day he’d had, when he was met with the most unusual sight.

There was a Molly-esque looking mime in his kitchen. There was a Molly-esque looking mime in his kitchen, chasing Hera’s snowy owl Familiar Hedwig. At least they were until they’d heard him, and then they froze. It looked like the poor dear didn’t know whether to hide or try to explain what happened, but she wasn’t talking, and Arthur had always been terrible at charades. She seemed especially desperate to get to the owl, but nearly burst into tears when he tried to help her. As he read the letter, he could understand why.

‘Dear Arthur,

As you are the father of several of my friends, including one of my best friends, I thought it only fair to warn you. I have figured out how to send ‘gifts’ to all the people who have sent Howlers and envelopes with questionable things inside to me and my friends. As I know Molly is one of those people, I felt you should know what the ‘gift’ will do. The more hateful words a person wants to say, the worse it will affect them, and Molly said some absolutely vile and hateful things. Everyone that received a gift will keep it until they learn the error of their ways, or apologize to Hermione for their willingness to follow that stupid Skeeter’s word like it was gospel instead of thinking for themselves. Maybe this will teach people to watch what they say, or at least think before they say it. After all, if one can’t say anything nice, maybe they shouldn’t say anything at all.’

It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be. He shouldn’t laugh, he really shouldn’t, but that didn’t mean the desire wasn’t there. Molly had refused to believe the stories the twins told of Hera’s most excellent pranks over the last three years, but Arthur knew better. After that summer before her Second Year, Arthur could tell that the girl was both fair minded like her mother, and loved a good prank like her father. If the girl felt the need to enact any sort of retribution, she wouldn’t hesitate just because the offender was an adult, or someone she liked and respected.

On one hand, he didn’t feel it was a child’s place to exact retribution, but she wasn’t exactly a legal child in the eyes of magic anymore. On the other hand, Molly often acted first and thought after, as did many of the adults in Hera’s life. None of them were taking action to safeguard against things like the unfortunate incident with the bubatuber puss, and no punishments were ever really given to them, because as adults they did not seem to recognize they were to be held to the same standard they had for their children. Things were allowed to happen to Hera that would outrage a parent, but nothing was ever done about it, and she never seemed to enact any sort of retribution unless the problem involved harm to someone else. Perhaps he would leave this alone for now, and see if Molly could work through her embarrassment to the lesson she was refusing to acknowledge that she needed to learn.

Chapter Text

Last time...

Perhaps he would leave this alone for now, and see if Molly could work through her embarrassment to the lesson she was refusing to acknowledge that she needed to learn.

Chapter 31

It happened without warning. The group of them were walking to their next class, talking about their various projects, and grumbling about the latest article in Witch Weekly; Rita had been smart not to send a gift of her own, or else she’d be a mime too, though Hera had no doubt she could still cause trouble that way. The article was making fun of Ron’s dad this time, something Hera hadn’t appreciated. She liked Arthur. It was unfortunate that Draco had decided to pick on Ron for this, because the boy wasn’t taking it as well as he usually did. All it took was one wrong word, and Ron was shouting a spell at Draco, nearly grazing her cheek as it was cast. There was a second bang when Draco went to defend himself.

“OH NO YOU DON’T LADDIE!”

Hera spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out, and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor…exactly where Draco had been standing. There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle.

“Did he get you?” Moody demanded.

“What? He didn’t…” Hera began, looking to Ron.

“It was a misunderstanding, Professor.” Ron tried to explain.

“LEAVE IT!” Moody shouted.

“Leave…what?” Hera asked, confused.

“Not you. Him!” Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret.

Moody started to limp towards Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking off towards the dungeons.

“I don’t think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again. It flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more. Hera couldn’t stop shaking.

“I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,” growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain.

“Stop it.” Hera ordered, her voice quiet.

“Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…” Moody continued, as if he hadn’t heard her, making the ferret bounce with every word. “Never. Do. That. Again.”

“I said. STOP IT!” She shouted, pointing her wand at him. He paused, and the ferret gave one final pitiful squeak of pain as it hit the ground. “Crabbe, Goyle, one of you find Professor Snape, the other should carry Draco to Madam Pomfrey. He will be injured. Broken ribs, at the very least.”

“I said to LEAVE IT!” Moody growled, now aiming his wand at Crabbe, who had made to reach for the ferret again. Hera cast a quick protego to shield him, and the spell bounced back and blasted Moody back up the staircase a few steps, sprawled on his backside.

“You will not raise your wand to a student again, Professor, or you will get that duel you want so. very. much.” Hera growled ferociously.

“What’s going on here?!” Came a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books, pausing to take in the scene before her.

“Miss Potter, if you would care to explain?” The woman asked, exasperated already.

“Ron and Draco were arguing, and it got out of hand. One thing lead to another, and the next thing I know a spell is grazing my face. Then Professor Moody here thought Draco had attacked me while my back was turned, and he turned him into that ferret over there, before bouncing him on the floor several times.” Hera relayed, her voice then softened as she continued. “He’s injured, Professor. Moody made him hit that stone pretty hard.”

“Mr. Weasley?” McGonagall inquired, turning to him now.

“Malfoy and I were arguing, Professor. I let it get to me, and I shouldn’t have cast that spell. He was only going to defend himself. It’s my own fault for giving in to my anger like that.” Ron admitted gloomily. “Can’t believe I’m defending a Malfoy.”

“Be that as it may, that’ll be five points from Gryffindor for dueling in the halls, Mr. Weasley, and five from Slytherin as well for Mr. Malfoy.” Professor McGonagall sighed, before spelling the books away, and promptly hauling Moody up off the floor by his ear. “As for you, Professor, we will be having an impromptu meeting with the Headmaster.”

“Professor? Could you…Would Madam Pomfrey or Professor Snape be able to…turn him back?” Hera asked. “Is that even safe to do before we figure out how injured he is?”

“Best take him straight to Madam Pomfrey.” McGonagall decided. “I’ll have my hands full with this one.”

“I’ll take him.” Crabbe insisted, gently picking up the ferret, grimacing a little when the injured ferret whimpered in pain.

“Straight away then, Mr. Crabbe, and five points to Slytherin for helping a fellow student in need. Another five for defending a fellow student, Miss Potter, though I wish it had not been needed for you to defend against a teacher…again.” Professor McGonagall stated, before continuing back up the staircase, still pulling Moody along by his ear.

“I can’t believe it. He attacked a student. He actually attacked a student.” Hermione exclaimed quietly. “We’ve been so diligent all year.”

“Yeah, but that’s when he was only trying to attack me.” Hera pointed out, also in shock. “We didn’t think he’d go after another student, not after we taught everyone shield charms.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t keep our guard up all the time.” Ron grumbled, glaring after the professor. “Something’s got to give.”

“Come on. Let’s go to class.” Hera sighed. “We can stop by the hospital wing after classes are over, see if he’s okay.”

“Draco?”

He was hearing things, he was sure of it. It was late at night, and there was no way Potter had risked sneaking up to the infirmary to see him. They were on more friendly terms now, but surely not so friendly as to risk getting caught after curfew for each other. Still, he’d heard her voice, and looked around discretely in an effort to try and find the source. He found nothing, and a moment later began dozing off once more.

“Draco!” The voice hissed again. For surely it was not Potter. He elected to ignore it. “Look. If you want to stay in here, instead of sleeping in your own bed in the dorms, far be it for me to stop you.”

That woke him up.

“Potter?” He called out cautiously, keeping his voice low. It wouldn’t do to bring Madam Pomfrey’s attentions to him now. She might make him stay longer, thinking there was more damage than she’d seen the first time, and he was already going spar as it was.

“Want out of here?” Potter asked, her head suddenly appearing out of thin air, though none of the rest of her did.

“Potter? What the…” Draco grumbled, peering at her more closely. “You have an invisibility cloak? Where did you get that? How many more hours of reading have you gotten in the library without Pince knowing?”

“It’s a Potter Family Heirloom. You should know, Madam Pomfrey’s updated the wards. If you think Crabbe and Goyle are going to be able to get you out, you’re wrong, but I can.” Potter insisted, not answering the library question; because of course she wouldn’t. “The Invisibility Cloak slips through all her wards.”

“Potter, the magic in Invisibility cloaks comes undone after a decade or two.” He argued, eyeing where the rest of her should be closely. “Whatever that is, it’s more than just an invisibility cloak.”

“I’m offering to bust you out of the Infirmary, and you’re really going to argue the semantics of my Invisibility Cloak?” Potter asked, incredulously. Okay, fair.

“Where are your glasses?” He asked, getting out of bed. He was still a bit sore, but the twins had bruise paste that would fix that.

“It’s dark. What am I gonna need to see?” She retorted, opening up the cloak for him to get under it too. “Now, come on.”

“I’m surprised Uncle Sev’s not here to stop this.” Draco noted absently as he ducked under and began inspecting the cloak from the inside.

“He usually only shows up when my plans are most likely going to cause an explosion or something. At least that’s been my experience.” Potter admitted. “I’m still not sure how he knows.”

“Same.” Draco agreed. “You and Granger going to try that potion tonight?”

“I’m headed to the classroom we have set up for it after I take you back to the dungeons.” Potter nodded. “I just hope it works. I could use some answers.”

“You could just ask Uncle Sev.” Draco pointed out, causing Potter to grimace.

“The Dursleys had a pretty strict ‘Don’t ask questions’ policy in regards to anything I wanted to know.” She admitted quietly, as they continued making their way. “It just became easier over the years to seek answers on my own. Hard to break a habit like that.”

She’d been here before, she knew, many times. It had just never happened in a waking dream such as this. This was the place she went to in her dreams, where she learned magic she couldn’t find in the books of Hogwarts, where she learned the bonds of family the Durlseys would not give her. What she couldn’t remember was why she was there now. She’d been researching spells and things for the third task, or something like that, and now she was here.

Usually when she’s here, she’s in the library learning magic from a kind older woman. When she’d been little, she’d used those dreams as a balm to her soul. At least here there’d been one person that didn’t think she was a freak. At least here there’d been someone who treated her with kindness and love. When she got to Hogwarts, she’d had these dreams with less frequency, but none of them had started out in the training arenas.

Oh, not to say that she hadn’t been here. She knew this place too with alarming familiarity. She’d never used her dreams to hurt Dudley though. It would have meant she’d done something freakish, when she couldn’t explain how she knew how to fight without mentioning the dreams, and then they’d lock her up in the cupboard again. A part of her still wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be going back to the Dursleys, no matter what Tony said.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to join us for training today!” A loud voice boomed, and she turned to see a tall red headed young man who both reminded her of Hagrid and the Weasley Clan all at once. She even knew his name.

“Volstagg?” She asked in surprise. Something was wrong. No one usually saw her in these dreams.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been experimenting with forgetfulness potions again.” The older boy snorted. “Don’t think we’re going to go easy on you just because you’re a girl today.”

“I don’t know if you know how basic biology works, Mate, but as far as I know, I’m a girl every day.” She replied with snark.

“Well, you certainly act like it. Playing tricks, using magic, foolish dishonourable womanly business that it is.” Another familiar voice added, and Hera was faced with recognizing another person who could see her.

“Yeah, there’s a reason no one likes you.” Hera comments nonchalantly. “That must be why you try so hard to make everyone think you’re a man, what with all the sword swinging. I’d ask if you’re overcompensating for something, but you’d have to bind your tits better before I’d believe you. I hope you realize that with that statement alone, you have insulted Queen Frigga not once, not twice, but thrice. Keep this up, and I’ll have to defend her honour whilst she is not here to defend it herself.”

Volstagg is coughing, both from surprise and laughter, at her snark.

“Why you little-!”

“Sif, give it a rest, will you? Or man up, and admit you want in my pants.” Hera continued. Wow, no filter today, even in her dreams. “It’s got to be the reason why you have such a hard on for berating me right now.”

Volstagg is horse laughing now, clearly enjoying the best entertainment he’s had in ages.

“Lady Sif, is that little Loki I hear?” Another familiar voice. Why can all these people see her, and did he really just call her Loki?!

“And another thing. Why do they call you Lady Sif and the Warriors Three? Do you realize how revoltingly sexist that sounds?” Hera asked in indignation. “They are literally excluding you, making it sound as if you are not a warrior too. Maybe I should get you a frilly dress, Lady Sif.”

She adds a small curtsy at the end.

“I am as much a warrior as any here!” Sif growled.

“Then why do they separate you from the men?” Hera asked outright, bringing them all up short. “Do they think separating you elevates you? Why do they not call you The Warriors Four instead? Is it not as catchy sounding or something?”

“Is Lady Loki starting a revolt again?” Another, Fandral, asked, as he walked into the arena.

“I rest my case right there in the crack of his arse, along with my foot if he doesn’t shut it.” Hera remarked, gesturing to the idiot in question. “Also, my name is Hera, not Loki. Dad wanted to name me Loki, but when Mum found out I was a girl, she refused to let him. What is it with all of you being able to see me? This has never happened in my dreams before.”

“BROTHER!” Thor shouted happily as he entered the arena. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN THE LIBRARY!”

It slowly began to dawn on Hera that this was not a dream dream, and she needed to react, because she was starting to panic internally.

“Thor? You are Thor, right?” She asked, hesitantly. The memory of crafting the potion with Hermione, of drinking it, slowly came back to her. Oh.

“OF COURSE, BROTHER! WHO ELSE WOULD I BE?” He asked jovially. “WHEN DID YOU GET THAT MARK ON YOUR FOREHEAD? I DO NOT REMEMBER YOU HAVING IT WHEN LAST WE SPOKE!”

Hera sighed. “Thor, do you know what an inside voice is?”

The tall blond boy nodded with a smile.

“Is there a reason why you don’t ever seem to use one?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “Do you enjoy people thinking that you’re stupid?”

The light in his eyes dimmed a little, and Hera suddenly felt guilty. It was like she’d kicked a puppy.

“You are not Loki.” Thor accused, a little subdued. “Loki would never call me thus.”

“Did he ever call you a troglodyte?” Hera countered. Thor hesitated, but nodded. “Then he called you an idiot. That means caveman on my world, and despite being marginally intelligent, they have the reputation of a moron.”

All of them began to look extremely angry, even the ones she hadn’t talked to yet, and then she remembered that the Loki in her dreams had called them all troglodytes at one point or another. Oh dear.

“Loki or not, you should not talk to our Crown Prince that way.” Sif stated, incensed.

“Perhaps we should teach the young one a lesson in manners?” Hogun, it had to be Hogun, suggested. Strange though, that was the most she’d heard him say…ever.

“With only three of you?” Hera snorted. “Fine then, but that hardly sounds sporting.”

She moved to pick up what looked a lot like a practice Scottish halberd pole-axe. She could work with this, Hera decided. Turning back to them, she readied her weapon of choice, thankful that she remembered all those lessons in dreams Loki had had to suffer through, secretly hoping her body could keep up.

“You should have brought more.”

...

“LOKI, HAVE YOU BEEN EXPERIMENTING WITH CLONES OF YOURSELF AGAIN?” Thor called out as soon as he was in the library, and Loki’s eyes twitched in annoyance.

“What have I said about using your inside voice, Thor?” Loki demanded, looking up from the lesson his Mother was currently trying to teach him to glare at his brother. “I swear those troglodyte friends of yours are a bad influence.”

“THEY ARE OUR FRIENDS, BROTHER! SURELY, YOU JEST!” Thor insisted.

“They are not my friends.” Loki reminded him yet again. “They are your friends, and your friends only. They do not like me, Thor, and make it a point to remind me even when you are right in front of them. That you do not defend me to them tells them they either have permission to belittle me, that you are too simple to catch their backhanded insults towards me, or that you do not truly see me as your brother.”

Thor’s shoulders slumped, and he no longer looked jovial as he had before.

“What is it?” Loki sighed. “I feel like I’ve kicked a puppy or something.”

“She was right. You do think I’m an idiot.” Thor pouted.

“She?” Their mother asked out of curiosity, having let the sibling conversation play out till now. “Who is she?”

“I will admit I do not know her name. I…I mistook her for Loki. I believe the others did as well, but she does not speak like Loki, not even when Loki’s form shifts to that of another.” Thor replied, still pouting. “She revealed that Troglodyte means caveman on her world, and that I must enjoy people thinking I’m stupid, because I do not use this ‘inside voice’ others keep insisting on. She also seems uncertain as to why we can see her, as her dreams have never allowed her to be seen by us before. She even went so far as to say that every time Lady Sif insisted magic was a weak woman’s dishonourable trick, that she was insulting Mother thrice with each insult.”

“She is,” Loki agreed. “not that you, Father, or anyone else deem it fit to correct such behaviour. In fact, every man from Father down encourages it, and every woman that practices the art just accepts that that is the way it is. That I choose to practice such things somehow makes me less honourable, less of a man to some, lesser than a woman to others, as if a woman is somehow lesser than a man at all, and everyone is allowed their backhanded insults towards me; though I am a Prince of Asgarðr, and such things are supposed to be punished.”

“Brother, if only you would-”

“That. That right there, Thor, is yet another example.” Loki snapped, cutting him off. “Were anyone to insult you in such a manner, they would have been made an example of; yet everyone is allowed their insults towards me, including you. You are not even insulted on mother’s behalf.”

Thor actually looked shocked at that, and their mother decided to separate the two before things could escalate further.

“Thor, you said you mistook her for Loki.” Frigga reminded him. “Why?”

“I felt Loki’s magic about her.” Thor shrugged, as if it were nothing. “Tis odd that she also had a lightning bolt on her forehead above her right brow, the mark of Sowilo.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Thor, you said you mistook her for Loki.” Frigga reminded him. “Why?”

“I felt Loki’s magic about her.” Thor shrugged, as if it were nothing. “Tis odd that she also had a lightning bolt on her forehead above her right brow, the mark of Sowilo.”

Chapter 32

“Where did you see her?” Frigga prompted urgently.

“The training arenas.” Her eldest son stated, earnestly, though confusion marred his face as to her urgency. “Lady Sif and the Warriors Three sought to teach her a lesson in manners.”

Loki snorted, no doubt thinking of their manners towards him.

“You two stay here. If she is who I think she is, I’ve been expecting her. I just didn’t think…” Frigga ordered, trailing off as she left the library for the training grounds. “…so soon.”

She heard the sounds of fighting, knew that she was close to the arenas, but she was not expecting what she saw when she arrived. A young girl around her youngest son’s age was no longer fighting the self styled ‘Lady Sif and The Warriors Three’, but against much older trainees. Tyr looked absolutely beside himself with delight at having such a promising young student. When her weapon of choice snapped from the force she’d used to smack one of the older trainees about the head, the young girl did not yield as many others would have. Instead, the girl took a fighting stance, raising her fists to wait for them to come at her again.

Angered as the older trainees were, they no longer bothered with weapons either. They also did not bother with one on one fighting as was the custom. Instead, they attacked her in groups, and still she continued to fight them off. One finally managed to pin the girls’ arms behind her, but she just used their own body weight to support her as she kicked another in front of her in the face, twisted her body, and sent the one that had been holding her flying across the room. Many of the young soldiers had been watching the fight with interest, and Frigga could understand why.

The moves the girl used were not taught to such young trainees, and she fought with a ruthlessness that belayed a hard life. The young girl looked shaken as she scanned the arena, but none of the other trainees got back up. Thor’s friends had bowed out early, it seemed, watching the young girl with something akin to begrudging respect. When the young girl met Frigga’s gaze, her eyes widened as fear filled them. A quiet litany of ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ filled the air, and the young girl backed up against the wall to curl in on herself against it as she slid to the floor.

“Your majesty, I didn’t see you there!” Tyr exclaimed happily. “I see you heard about the new trainee. Haven’t gotten her name yet, but she’s got promise, this one! Such ability I haven’t seen in ages!”

“I’m afraid she may not be able to join you, at least not regularly, Master Tyr.” Frigga explained. “This one has the mark of Fate upon her brow. Perhaps, if she is amenable, some sort of arrangement can still be made.”

The girl was curled up, rocking, still apologizing, but the rune was clear for all to see. Above her right brow was the rune Sowilo. Thor had been right about that. Frigga made her way through the training arena, and knelt in front of the young girl who was still apologizing. Gently, Frigga raised the girl’s chin, and dabbed at her still falling tears.

“You’ve come a long way, Lítit Auðit.” She stated, keeping her voice soft and gentle, and something in the girl eased. “Come. I think you and I need to have a talk.”

Little Fated

“Am I…Am I in trouble?” The young girl asked hesitantly, taking deep breaths in an effort to try and rein in her sobs, and Frigga was struck by all too familiar and yet startlingly vibrant green eyes. “It was just those four at first, and sparring was even fun, but then the older kids…and I’m pretty sure a few adults…and then I just sort of…lost it…I didn’t mean to…I just didn’t want to hurt anymore…”

“You are not in trouble, but we should see your injuries tended.” Frigga replied, suppressing her frown. Those words, something about those words…this was not a child that had lived a happy life.

The young girl sighed. No child liked to see the healers.

“Madam Pomfrey, she’s a healer too, says that my bones are like Swiss cheese.” The young girl agreed solemnly, rubbing at her eyes to dry the last of the tears.

“Swiss cheese?” Frigga inquired, standing up as the girl did the same.

“You know, kinda flimsy or brittle, lots of holes in it?” The girl replied with a shrug, still subdued. “I gotta take extra strength nutrition potions every other week. It was every day there for a while, but she thinks the potions have helped correct a lot of the damage the Dursleys did to me, which is good. I’d like to have a growth spurt at some point. Otherwise, I’m gonna be this short forever.”

“You’ve been abused.” Frigga concluded, guiding the girl along now.

“You know, it’s amazing how many people have acknowledged that now that I’ve already done something about it.” The girl remarked wryly, with no little bitterness. “I don’t think I’m to live with them anymore, and I’m getting help to fix what they did. Other kids have it worse than me. I just got smacked around some, missed meals, locked away for a while. Other kids get messed with. That didn’t happen to me.”

Frigga didn’t say anything, having the feeling that the young girl was trying to appear more at peace with her situation than she really was.

“Lady Eir? Are you busy?” Frigga called, as they entered the Healing Hall.

“Not yet, but I’m told I soon will be. Is this the one responsible?” Eir replied, rising from the desk Frigga knew the woman took to writing her notes on. “Tyr sent a messenger through one of the other pathways. Come, let me get a look at you. Take off your things, what you’re comfortable with, not everything. I need to see where you’ve been injured, and then go from there.”

The girl hesitated, distrustful, uncertain, but began taking off her clothes. It was all Frigga could do to hold in the gasp in her throat. This young child was littered with scars, some fresh, some old, some…didn’t seem to belong to her somehow. It was strange how much this young girl reminded her of Loki; same black hair, same pale countenance, strong magic, green eyes. Though her eyes were a brighter more vibrant green, her hair certainly more wild, the girl before her reminded her quite strongly of her youngest son.

“Child…some of this is…” Frigga managed, pulling her hand back before she could touch the scars she saw on the girl’s shoulders. “This goes beyond abuse even…to torture…Who did this to you?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you that.” The girl objected. “I’ve seen you in dreams and stuff. You’re all sensible, but you cave to the will of Pirate Santa whenever he makes some kingly decree, even if it is a stupid kingly decree; like not telling Loki he’s adopted, or that he can turn blue like I can.”

“…Like you can?” Frigga inquired hesitantly. Very few people knew of Loki’s origins for a reason.

“Yup. First time I did it, a friend of mine thought a demon had eaten me! Can you imagine?” The young girl snickered. “I panicked, because I figured everyone would think I was a freak, but they just thought it was awesome. Wanna see?”

Before Frigga or Eir could answer that, the young girl before them turned into a Jötunn! Her blue skin was like cobalt, and though she was partially covered, Frigga was sure the markings ran the length of her body. Unfortunately, neither woman could hide the slight fear in their eyes when her glowing blood garnet like eyes met their own. Her skin returned to it’s normal pale tone, and all her happiness seemed to disappear. Eir continued to heal the girl, but both women were a bit more hesitant than before, and the young girl put her clothes back on quickly in her hurry to leave.

“You know,…” The young girl eventually began, breaking the silence. “this is why Loki secretly hates himself.”

and then she was gone.

...

Hera woke up gasping, taking gulps of air in as if she couldn’t breathe it in fast enough, Hermione suddenly by her side.

“Did it work?” Hermione asked excitedly. “Did the potion work?”

Hera shook her head, unable to get the words out, waving her off halfheartedly in an effort for space.

“Oh, I wonder where we went wrong!” Hermione fretted, hovering over her friend as Hera tried to recover. “We brewed it correctly. I wonder if-”

“Mione.” Ron, somehow suddenly impossibly there Ron (because he certainly hadn’t been before), pulled their attention to him. “She can’t breathe.”

Hermione looked to Hera, instantly ashamed that she hadn’t picked up on that. Hera was backing away feebly in an effort to give herself room to breathe, taking in half gulps of air, but nothing was quite making it. Ron was already talking her down, speaking to her clearly, holding her attention, getting her to take breaths and hold them for a little bit before releasing them, and slowly Hera started breathing normally again. She was shaky, but otherwise fine. If one didn’t notice the slight hysteria in her eyes, they would have never realized how fragile her state was.

“Thanks, Ron.” Hera murmured gratefully, though her voice was a bit scratchy. She looked to Hermione. “It felt like I was really there, but they could see me this time, and-”

“Wait, they could see you?!” Hermione gasped. Hera nodded. “This is huge! Do you know what this means?!”

“No, but I’m sure you can tell me.” Hera chuckled fondly.

“Time theorists are going to love this! You being seen back in time means you were meant to be there, to be seen.” Hermione insisted ecstatic. “What else? What else?”

“There was a regal woman who called me Little Fated. I think…I think she was expecting me.” Hera admitted, hesitantly.

Hermione had never been happier for her friend, but she also knew this meant that Hera was worried about something she thought they might hate her for.

“I…I turned blue…and they didn’t take it well.” Hera mumbled. “They were afraid of me.”

Oh. Oh, that was…not good…No wonder she’d been so hesitant.

“Did you hear any names?” Ron asked after a moment, figuring out some of what the potion was meant to do. “If you’re trying to figure out who you were in a past life or something, names you hear are important. You can trace a family tree, and find those people, figure out who you were before based off of names you didn’t hear when you heard those others.”

“I did, but…I’m not sure I wanna know now…What if it’s someone bad?” Hera worried.

“Then it was someone bad.” Ron shrugged. “You’re you, and they were them. You two did this to train for the third task, right?”

Both Hera and Hermione were quick to nod.

“Then shouldn’t you give it another shot?” He suggested. “If they can see you, they can give you advice. Tell them about the tournament. See what they know.”

“Maybe wait till you get some actual sleep?” Suggested Professor Snape, standing in the doorway, looking completely unsurprised as to their scheme. “Get to bed, all of you. And Weasley? I’d make it snappy, before I remember to take House Points. Don’t. Think. I. Won’t.”

He was gone in the next moment, robes billowing as he walked down the hall.

“How does he do that?” Ron grumbled, glaring at the now empty doorway.

“At this point I’ve stopped wondering.” Hera admitted sheepishly. “The more epic the thing is, the sooner he shows up to stop it.”

“You mean the more likely it is to explode.” Hermione corrected.

Hera just grinned. “That too.”

“Potter, you will stay after class.” Snape ordered, pinning her with a look to no doubt make sure she complied.

It was to be expected after the night she’d had, and everyone gave her sympathetic glances as they shuffled out the door. He waited till everyone was gone, closing the door before casting a silencing charm around it.

“What were you trying to do last night?” He asked, outright. “Weasley mentioned a last life.”

“I don’t know how to explain it…I’m not sure I understand it all…but, I’ve had these dreams since I was little little, and I thought…If there was something to them…If I was someone, you know…before this…things would make sense…” Hera admitted, fidgeting under his scrutiny. “There’s obviously something going on with my magic, and-”

“You did not think to ask me, your master, the one with your Blood Inheritance Test results?” Snape interrupted.

“You’ve not exactly been the easiest person to talk to these past few years, you know. I might have figured out you didn’t really hate me, but you can’t deny you’re an immature bully to school children, and that doesn’t exactly boost one’s confidence. Neville is still afraid of you.” Hera countered, pinning him with a look now. Snape got thin lipped at that, but didn’t say anything, knowing she was right. “Beyond that, I…I get that you’re trying to be better this year, but I have a little over ten years of ingrained behaviour I’m trying to work through.”

Whatever it was he had been expecting, it apparently hadn’t been that, as evident by his delayed response.

“…What?”

Hera sighed heavily, and replied. “Don’t ask questions.”

He looked like he still didn’t understand.

“That’s the response I got whenever I wanted to know something. Don’t ask questions.” Hera explained. “Anytime I had a bout of accidental magic, not that I knew what it really was, I got ‘Don’t ask questions. Magic isn’t real. Now get in your cupboard, and pretend you don’t exist’.”

The professor seemed to freeze, and that was the moment Hera realized she’d never actually explained her living situation to him. She’d never thought about it before, but he’d always just accepted that she was trying to get away from it and the Headmaster’s magical custody. That just begged the question of how bad his home life had been that he wouldn’t question a kid’s wish to get away from their relatives; not that she would be asking. She could only imagine what he was thinking, but it wasn’t like he had a right to get angry either. He had been a bully to her for the last three and a half years, to countless others before that, and to everyone else in Hogwarts currently.

“We are getting off topic, but do not think we will not come back to this.” He decided. “For now, we need to discuss what you were trying to attempt last night with that potion. Do you have any idea the risks of the potion you made?”

Hera nodded. “Hermione and I did a lot of research before we attempted it.”

“And you thought that possibly having your soul lost in the aether, and traumatizing your friends with your not quite dead body, was better than asking the Dungeon Bat for help?” He added, and she grimaced.

“I…I can see pathways, entrances to places I know I shouldn’t travel yet, like a big tree. It’s all over the place. Most people can walk right through them and not be affected, or even notice; but there are places even at Hogwarts that I have to avoid, because I instinctively just know how to open them, and I might physically walk into a place I shouldn’t without even thinking about it…” She trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. “I didn’t think my soul would get lost, because it instinctively knows where it’s going.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this because…” He asked pointedly, trailing off for her to answer.

“I feel like enough of a freak as it is. Okay?” Hera huffed in exasperation. “I mean…Do you know anyone else with a born ability to shield their mind? Or turn blue? Or not feel the cold like you’re supposed to? Sometimes I can want something so much, it just…shows up. I manipulate the magic around me without even thinking about it. I don’t even realize I’ve done it until I catch someone looking at me like they need to rethink their whole life. Fred and George had to explain to me that I’ve been doing wandless nonverbal magic, and that I’ve been doing it for years – years! – and I didn’t notice. How is it that I didn’t even bloody notice? I’m just starting to learn about magic! I’m an apprentice at fifteen! I can’t-”

“I understand, Potter. You have more power than most children ever have to learn to control so early. That is not a reason to panic; though your hesitance is understandable, considering who you were left with to raise you.” Professor Snape interrupted, and she worked to get her breathing under control. “I am telling you now, that you can ask me things. I am your Master, Potter. You are my Apprentice. That means whenever you have a question, baring public appearances where you must defer to me as such, you can ask me anything. It is my duty to guide you. I may not be able to do most of what you just described, but I can help you learn to make better choices as you figure these things out.”

She just arched an eyebrow at him, unable to help herself.

“I do, in fact, have a plethora of bad choices in which to reference what not to do. They’re called character flaws for a reason.” He pointed out, unimpressed with her silently calling him out on his own. “It’s how I can guide you to make better choices than the ones I have made, leaving you free to make entirely new bad choices as you like. Now, is there anything you would like to ask me, considering I have your Blood Inheritance Test results here in my hand right now?”

He did too, even waved it around a little as if to tempt her.

“Is it bad that I still can’t bring myself to ask, despite your heavy handed hinting?” Hera hedged. “I need to know, I do, but I…I can’t…I can’t ask…”

“Then I won’t push you to, but we will be talking about this later. Now, off with you. Dinner’s started already, and I imagine there’s a legion of people waiting outside this door for you.” Professor Snape stated, dismissing her from the room.

Chapter Text

Chapter 33

Frigga had been lost in her thoughts for months, ever since the little fated child had come and gone in the blink of an eye. Tyr had been most disappointed about the girl disappearing. It had not mattered to him that she was a girl, not when he helped train Sif, and it was well known that their Valkyries had been the best. It had not mattered to him when Frigga informed him that the young girl was Jötunn, though the two realms still had much discord with each other. She fought like a trained warrior of Ásgarðr. She was a fated, and that’s all he needed to know, but they hadn’t been able to figure out how to get into contact with her to continue her training; should she wish it.

For all that the little fated was Jötunn, no one on Jötunheimr recognized her. Farbauti had looked at the image of the young Jötunn girl more intently than the rest of the delegation, but if they recognized her, they never said. The only other clue they had to go on was Swiss cheese, a curious thing to be sure. Miðgarðr was the only place with anything that sounded like that, but it was a protectorate. Even so, there was no sign of the little fated there. So Frigga was entirely unprepared to see the young girl in her weaving room, looking at an unfinished tapestry.

“Please don’t go.” Frigga pleaded softly, seeing her there.

“This is just going to keep on happening now that I've drank that potion, isn’t it.” The girl sighed. “I used to watch you work for hours, and you never saw me; not once.”

“It is quite possible.” Frigga allowed, uncertain of what potion would render the girl visible to them. “You stated you visited this realm many times without our knowledge. If you sought to change the circumstances of those visits, it could have that outcome. We have been searching for you, hoping to make amends, but were unable to find you. How do you travel here?”

“I didn’t really know I was doing it before, and the perspective was different, so I don't think the travel was quite the same.” The girl admitted, turning to face her now. “The potion…allowed me to send my soul across the aether, through time and space, to the last time my soul was this young…sort of. I’m trying not to acknowledge what that means, what it really means, but I think you know.”

Indeed, she did. If what Frigga thought was true, then her son was fated for something other than this life. The Norns tended not to meddle with Fate, only watching and guarding the weave. Very few things would cause them to step in, and she often wondered how long Odin could interfere with the order of things before he created one of those incidents that needed a Norns intervention. It appears that at some point in their lives, the Norns step in to interfere with her son’s fate. However, it was the girl’s avoidance of this knowledge that made her pause.

“Why do you not wish to acknowledge what has happened to you?” She wondered. “The origins of your soul?”

“I just…If I do…It’s just one more thing that makes me stand out.” The young girl sighed in defeat. “One more thing that makes me a freak. There’s just a lot going on. Adding that to the mix just feels like too much.”

“Come, sit with me.” Frigga suggested, gesturing to a small sitting area off to the side of her weaving. “Tell me about your life.”

The girl made to object, but Frigga regally held a hand up to make her pause.

“I know you can not tell me what happens to him, but there is something of his soul…his magic…within you, and I find myself…wishing to care for you as your own person as well.” Frigga admitted. The girl looked dubious at this. “Please? Perhaps if you tell me of your life, I can help you with your problems, if only in some small way.”

It wasn’t trust at first conversation, but Hera found that the more she spoke with this woman, the more she wanted to trust her. Each visit brought them closer, but for every few days that Hera experienced between visits, months or years would pass for Frigga. She still didn’t want to acknowledge what Frigga so readily accepted, but every so often Frigga would have information on Jötunn on the table, and every so often Hera would sneak one of the books or scrolls into her bag. It shouldn’t, but it still confused her that the things from her dreams showed up in her real world bag when she woke up. When Loki and Thor were away, Frigga would teach her magic. When the two were there, Hera trained in the arena with Thor and his friends, while Loki was quietly encouraged by his mother to spend time in the library.

Hera wasn’t expecting for Thor and his friends to come running up to her the next time she popped into the arena, all talking at once. It shocks her into accidentally apparating into one of the supply closets, something she hadn’t done in a while. When she manages to extract herself, Thor is right there, and suddenly she’s being dragged towards the mess hall. They have about a thousand questions, and apparently that can only be done with mead and food. She convinces them instead to sneak into the kitchens, where she proceeds to commandeer one of the cooking stations for them.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Fandral asked excitedly, as he watches her cut up various ingredients for their food. They’re all sitting around the cooking station like it was a hibachi grill island or something.

“Tell you what? Our first meeting wasn’t exactly what I would call trust building.” Hera pointed out. “You then proceeded to try to kick my arse for insulting your crowned prince, when you’d done the same thing to the Queen not moments before. Before that, you not only insulted the youngest prince, you insulted magic; which is a part of my very being. Not to mention, you insulted women everywhere. Exactly when was I supposed to tell you that I used magic to try and find someone who could help me explain what I was, and how to defend myself against the people trying to kill me, when you’d all but told me you thought I was a freak too?”

“YOU ARE MOST…” Thor paused when he saw Hera glare at him from her station, meat cleaver raised high as she’d paused in her preparations, and amended his tone. “You are most wise, Lady Hera. We did not get off to a great start, but surely now you can tell us? Share with us your adventures! You have gone up against these people who tried to kill you, yes? How did you defeat them?”

“So…no curiosity as to the whole how the hell am I a frost giant runt?” Hera asked, pausing in surprise. “I just…I was expecting animosity or an attempt from one of you to kill me or something. Wasn’t there a war?”

“We were told that you yourself were uncertain as to how you came to be.” Fandral explained, attempting to be suave. “If you want, we can go somewhere with more privacy, and I can explain how it all works.”

“Please don’t tell me he actually thinks he can lure women this way.” Hera mock pleaded, looking to the others. Fandral pouted, but Volstagg, Hogun, and Thor laughed, while Sif watched her thoughtfully. “Fandral, if you continue talking to the ladies in such a manner, none of them will give you more than a passing glance, though maybe that’s all you care for. The moment they realize you don’t value them as more than a passing fancy, to use and throw away at your leisure, they will warn all others away. However, if you continue talking to me in such a manner, I’ll make sure none of them get the chance, and cut off the part of you that you want to stick into the ladies. Understand?”

Volstagg is slapping his knee as he’s trying not to laugh out loud, shaking hard with silent laughter.

“Adventures!” Thor cuts in, blushing at her candor.

“You all realize I’m actually only fifteen, right? I don’t just look fifteen like you lot.” Hera reminded them, but Thor looked on ever expectantly. “Very well, I guess I could tell you about the time I punched a guy in the chest so hard that a piece of his rib cage broke off and stabbed him in the heart.”

“That hardly sounds like the whole of the tale.” Hogun remarked.

“I may have left out that this was a teacher at my school of magic, and that he had a second face on the back of his head.” Hera supplied, and then proceeded to spin the story about her first year at ‘magic school’.

She tells them about seeing the hatching of a rare and most fearsome dragon, and that she and her fellow companions had managed to sneak out the dragon without getting their friend in trouble. She tells them about the forbidden forest, and the death of a creature of pure light. She tells them about a mighty giant of a three headed beast, and though they were sad there was no fight there, Volstagg is impressed she could befriend such a fearsome creature. She tells them about the mirror that displayed the desires of the heart, neither truth nor future, and how she destroyed it and thus return an item of great importance that had been trapped within back to its owner. They listen with rapt attention as she tells them about finding that the unassuming Professor she had dismissed so easily was not as weak as he seemed, how he had taken in the wraith that was the man who wanted to kill her, and how she had laughed at him until he attacked her in a fit of rage, thus enabling her to land the hit that killed him.

As she’s telling the story, she’s preparing their food with magic, something that fascinates Thor and Volstagg; Hogun watches with appreciation, but as he is Vanir, it is common to him. Sif grumbles about magic being a weak trick that anyone could do. Until this point, Hera had tried not to let Sif’s words get to her, but it was just too much while she was preparing food. It felt like being back with the Dursleys. So she set aside some of the food, all of which had yet to be touched by magic, and scooted it towards her. Sif just looked at it like it was a foreign entity, and looked back to Hera.

“If you can’t keep your comments about magic to yourself, you can prepare your own food.” Hera stated, nudging the pile of ingredients towards her a little more. “I’d like to see you prepare food with magic, since it’s something anyone could do. Don’t for an instant give me that tripe about it being for the weak, or the women. As if being a woman automatically implies weakness. If it’s such a weak womanly thing, you’ll have no problem with it, being the strong independent woman you are, right?”

“You would-”

“You stay out of this, Thor.” Hera ordered, pinning him with a look. “I have dealt with this kind of disrespect all my life. No more. Either she learns to keep her opinions to herself, or my boot ends up in the crack of her arse. Freedom of speech does not mean freedom from consequences. Now, what’s it gonna be?”

Sif looked petulant, but relented.

“I have a friend like you back home.” She fondly comments to Sif, taking the plate of ingredients back, and returns to cooking the food. “Stubborn, strong willed, smart as can be, haaates to be wrong about anything. She insisted that she wasn’t going to be some stay at home woman who took care of the kids, but forgot to factor in that those women can be some of the strongest women ever. The women of my world can be both fierce warrior and housewife at the same time, if they so choose. They have fought for the right for this to be so.”

“The men allow this?” Thor asks.

“The men allow what, Thor?” Hera counters, a dangerous edge to her voice as she eyes him now. “Remember that your response will determine if you get any of this food.”

“I simply mean it seems as if there is more of an equal stance on things, and not quite the uphill battle that Lady Sif has to contend with.” Thor insisted, hands up in surrender. “Are there men who do this?”

“What, be stay at home husbands?” Hera asked. Thor nodded. “Yes. After all, if women can be both warrior and housewife at the same time, men can be warrior and househusband too. My world is split in two in a way. Those with magic keep to themselves, but within their own community things are much more equal on the gender spectrum. I suspect this is only because we have other problems within our society, which is sort of why I have someone trying to kill me on a yearly basis.”

“What are the problems of which you speak?” Sif asked, considering her more carefully now.

“Oh. That’s…complicated. Give me a mo’.” Hera sighed, before working to complete the meal in a self contained cooking bubble in the air, plating them when she was done. “I present to you…Dinner. Enjoy.”

For a moment there was nothing but the scrapping of various utensils, each enjoying the meal they’d seen so quickly prepared by magic.

“The problems?” Fandral inquired, after a time.

“My world is pretty magic heavy, as I’ve said before.” Hera continued, after swallowing a bite of food. “There are families that can trace their lines back to what they believe is the beginning of magic itself in our world, and this became such an important distinction for them that they began to see anyone of new blood coming in as muddying the waters. In order to keep them out, they would only marry within certain families they held sacred, but after a while that gets a bit…dicey. Marry someone too close in relation enough times over the generations, and abnormalities start cropping up. Madness. Infertility. Defects. Their argument was wanting to hold onto traditions, to keep to the old ways; and if that is all it was, then teaching the newcomers the old ways would be the obvious answer. Neither side seemed to want to do this, however, and so every year new magical children come in with no idea how insulting they’re being at times, and children from old magical families resent them for stomping all over traditions they’ve never been taught.”

“How does this factor in with your problem?” Volstagg asked thoughtfully.

“Oh, that’s easy. Imagine it, Volstagg, you want to take over the world. You’re powerful, but you can’t do it alone. You need an army, preferably one that already believes they’re better than everyone else. You tell them everything they want to hear so they’ll swear loyalty to you, and then you bind them to your service so that they couldn’t escape even if they wanted.” Hera replied, waving her fork around a little. “Ah, but see Prophecies are kind of a big deal, and you’ve just heard one that could possibly be about how to kill you. Maybe. However, you’ve only heard half. You don’t know the rest of it, but that doesn’t matter. You go to kill the obstacle in your path…Only it’s being protected by a family. The man dies first, trying to buy time. It’s the woman that lasts the longest; pleading, begging, fighting.

You kill her too, but only after trying to get her to stand aside so you can kill what she protects. You did promise, after all. You ask three times, but she doesn’t listen, so you kill her anyway; effectively braking the magical vow you’d accidentally just created. Nasty business that, but you’re about to kill a baby, so it’s not like you care. (gasp!) Except your attempt doesn’t kill the baby, and instead jerks the soul right out of your own body. Now you’ve got bigger problems, like trying to get a new body, so you can go back and kill that baby who grew up, so you can take over the world.”

“…Volstagg, how could you?” Thor asked in a horrified and hushed tone, and for a moment Volstagg actually looks like he can’t believe Thor would really accuse him of doing that, before they all burst into laughing fits.

“So that is why you have been training as you have.” Hogun realizes, to which Hera nods. “Why train in both physical fighting and magic?”

“A lot of people in my world view physical fighting the way this world views magic, something anyone who is weak with no skill could do – It’s not like punching someone in the face is all that hard, you know – but they don’t do, you understand; just like Sif can’t do magic, despite claiming how easy and beneath her it is.” Hera explained, getting back to her food. “If I can train in both, I’ll be stronger than any of them. I’ll be able to protect the people I care about.”

“Very well, we shall help you train!” Thor insists enthusiastically. “Now, tell us more of your adventures. How did you get the scars on your left arm? Those look like they were made from a most fearsome beast indeed. It must have been a great battle!”

Hera just grins, and starts another round of story telling.

There was no way she was seeing this. Tony Stark could not be in the Great Hall. She blinked, thinking it a hallucination, because surely that’s what it was. Professor McGonagall had told her to go to the Great Hall after her first class that morning, that it was a day for the Champions to spend with their families before the task, but…The Dursleys would never have come, and Tony was a muggle too. Professor Snape and Sirius had had to sneak him in with Professor McGonagall’s help last time, but was that because they were helping him avoid Dumbledore, or because he was a muggle? Hera hadn’t thought to ask, and now she was left in a state of panic within her own mind.

Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Viktor Krum was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father rapidly. She realized he was speaking in Bulgarian, but it sounded like English to her unless she strained to hear it as it was; she was getting better at recognizing when it happened now. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away with her mother, both of whom smiled at her when they saw her. Gabrielle, Fleur’s little sister, waved at her excitedly before turning back to her family.

“Surprise!” Tony exclaimed happily, walking over to her. “You okay, kid? You look a little green.”

“Tony, you’re here. You’re a muggle, and you’re here, in the open. How have you not been obliviated or something?” Hera stressed, looking around and wondering why no one thought it was weird for him to be here, too worried to be baited by his colour pun.

“Oh. Sirius and this Remus guy. Do I say bloke here? I should totally say bloke here. Anyway, they brought me. Said it was some sort of family day before the last task of Death Tourney 2.0.” Tony rambled excitedly. “Then I met this father and son who insist you turned someone into a mime, but they left her at home.”

“Hera!” She hears, and turns around, only to be engulfed in a hug. “It’s been ages. Charlie says hullo, by the way.”

“I’m still not quitting school.” Hera replies, though it’s muffled.

Bill just laughs as he lets her go. “He said you’d say that.”

“Why does a guy want her to quit school?” Tony asked, eyeing Bill with clear suspicion. “Should I be concerned?”

“I can talk to dragons.” Hera admitted with a shy grin. “Charlie works at a dragon reserve, and is a bit obsessed. He keeps offering crazy amounts of money he can’t possibly have access to for me to quit school and work there. At this point, I think it’s just for fun.”

“He may also be in lurrve.” Bill teased, messing with her hair till she playfully shoved him off. “You talked to a dragon, and told her to set you on fire. He said it was the most terrifyingly brilliant thing he’d ever seen.”

“You really did that?” Tony asked, surprised. “I got that Daily Prophet thing, but I can’t believe half of what it says.”

“It wasn’t my original plan, but it was too flashy to pass up.” Hera admitted sheepishly. “So, Tony, this is my way cooler older brother Bill, as is evident by the long hair and fang earring. I kind of want one.”

“They let me off work when I told them who I was coming to support. Gringotts loves her. Still won’t tell me what she did.” Bill stated, continuing whatever conversation he and Tony had been having before she got there.

“Where’s Arthur?” Hera asked suddenly.

“Right here.” Came a voice from somewhere just behind her.

“Not Dad!” Hera exclaimed happily, as she whirled around to hug him.

“Still checking to make sure you eat your vegetables later.” Arthur replied with an easy smile. “Hera, about Molly-”

“All she has to do is apologize, Arthur.” Hera interrupted sternly, but was confused when Arthur just smiled.

“Molly’s embarrassed; not because of what she’s been turned into, but because she acted that way, and got called out on it by a child.” Arthur replied with ease. “She’s admitted what she’s done, but it’s going through with the apology that’s the hard part now.”

“I’m still working on the paper to publish, but it’s a bit difficult finding sources for what I did besides ‘I saw it in a dream once’. I don’t think they’d accept that.” Hera remarked. “At least people have eased up on Hermione now. They’ve even taken to sending her gifts to try and win her favour.”

“That’s too funny.” Tony snickered, but she can see he’s feeling a little uncertain. This is the family that had all but taken her in, after all, and he doesn’t know how he fits into that.

“Want the grand tour?” She offered, looking back to Tony. “You know, now that I’m not freaking out?”

“Sure. Show me a magic castle.” Tony insisted enthusiastically. “I wanna see everything.”

“There’s a tree outside that hits people if they get too close. We call it the Whomping Willow.” Hera replied gleefully. For all the world, Tony looked like Christmas had come early on his birthday.

She showed him all over the castle as best she could. He was fascinated by the moving staircases, and the talking portraits, and Peeves. The first time he saw her talking to Sir Nick and the Bloody Baron, he almost shat himself. Arthur asks him about a million questions, and Tony can’t help but love the boundless enthusiasm, even as Hera can see him internally cringe when he realizes this man is the Head of a department of Government. Sirius and Remus join them around lunch, and Tony looses his mind because Sirius turns into a Grim right in front of him. Sirius has been holding onto that particular prank for a while, Hera can tell. Tony absolutely refuses to explain to Arthur the function of a rubber duck, if only because it amuses him when Arthur asks about it.

Hera introduces him to many of her classmates at lunch as she can, though at first she is hesitant and uncertain. It’s easier to talk about her interest in things than it is her attachment to people, even though talking about her interests is hard enough as it is, but she becomes more confident the more Tony just breezes through it with ease. Slytherin is uncertain around him now that they have the time to worry about it, particularly because they are caught between the views of their parents and their own curiosity, but knowing that they are a unified House in public helps Hera and the others ease them into things. Those she knew best from Gryffindor came over as well, along with the friends she’d made in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and suddenly Slytherin is more crowded than it’s ever been, particularly with several of the students from the other two schools they have sitting with them at the moment. Even Professor Snape stops by their seats to check on them; under the guise of making sure everyone is behaving themselves, of course.

Professor Dumbledore doesn’t do much more than look over at them, and to be fair he’s been rather busy as of late. He doesn’t have the time to investigate Tony as any curious person would want to do, and it is well known that Albus Dumbledore is as curious as a person can get. Each of the teachers makes it a point to visit with them, though there is always at least one person with both Dumbledore and Moody whenever they are near her or Tony. Each of the teachers give him a sort of progress report, which she’s never experienced in a positive way before, and he even attempts to eat one of Hagrid’s rock cakes when they make it down to the man’s hut. She takes pity on him after a moment and shows him Ron’s trick of soaking them in tea for several minutes first, and is secretly amused at how all the adult men sans Hagrid are flabbergasted at her ability to eat them as is.

“Is he a good’en?” Hagrid asks quietly. She and Hagrid are watching Tony getting pulled into another conversation about muggle tech with Arthur; this time about the Ford Angela.

“He is, Hagrid.” Hera replied, keeping her voice low as well. “I’m as weird as weird can get, and he still wants to be my brother.”

“I’m glad then.” Hagrid nodded. “He seems a good sort.”

“Thank you.” She whispers. If he notices the dampness in her eyes, he doesn’t say, though he does give her a sort of knowing smile as he hands her another rock cake.

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Is he a good’en?” Hagrid asks quietly. She and Hagrid are watching Tony getting pulled into another conversation about muggle tech with Arthur; this time about the Ford Angela.

“He is, Hagrid.” Hera replied, keeping her voice low as well. “I’m as weird as weird can get, and he still wants to be my brother.”

“I’m glad then.” Hagrid nodded. “He seems a good sort.”

“Thank you.” She whispers. If he notices the dampness in her eyes, he doesn’t say, though he does give her a sort of knowing smile as he hands her another rock cake.

Chapter 34

“So, you’re the brother we’ve heard so much about.”

Tony had stepped out of the restroom, and immediately stopped at the sight in front of him. Was he seeing double? He wasn’t drunk. He did have some ethical concerns about being drunk around children. He was not going to be his father! So either he’d been drugged, (which okay, magical drugs sounded cool in theory, but he’d bet anything the downsides were worse than the normal stuff, and those were pretty bad on their own) or there were two of them. No. He was definitely seeing two of them. They were certainly enjoying his confusion, that was for sure.

“Ah, the terror twins known as Gred and Forge.” Tony commented, remembering Hera’s description of them. “Hera’s talked about you two. We met earlier, right?”

“We need to know you’re going to take this brother gig seriously.”

“Hera doesn’t need a sometimes family.”

“You’re worried I’ll replace you.” He realized, thinking rapidly about how he was going to tell them apart. Hera could do it, but she hadn’t told him how.

“No.” A new voice, younger than the other two, said from behind the twins. “What we’re afraid of is you having no idea what you’re getting into, panicking when you realize Hera’s messed up in ways money can’t just fix, and then you abandoning her when the going gets too tough for you.”

“Listen, kid-”

“My name is Ronald Weasley, and I’m one of Hera’s best friends. You’d do well to listen to me.” The younger boy, now Ronald, warned. “Hera knows you’re with us. I asked to speak to you alone. So you’re going to come with us, and then we’re going to tell you all the things Hera downplayed before that she doesn’t realize she has or didn’t want you to worry over. You will listen, and you will thank us. Understood?”

Ronald Weasley remembers with distinct clarity the day he met the girl who would become one of his best friends. Specky little thing didn’t even look old enough to get onto the train, but her eyes felt like what his mum called an ‘old soul’. She’d not said anything about his patchy clothes, or his corned beef sandwich that was too dry; instead trading his sandwich for something she’d cooked herself, and buying a modest amount of drinks and sweets off the trolley to share. It was there that he learned who she was, but he also got his first glimpse into how she’d been living the last decade in the muggle world. It wasn’t a good picture, and it didn’t get any better.

Attention seemed to bother her, like she thought she was going to get hurt at any moment. She kept sitting in places where she could see the door or window best; both, if she could manage it. She didn’t talk about her family much, and when she did it was as ‘the Dursleys’ or ‘my relatives’. Hera never spoke about them with warmth or kindness the way others did about their families. He couldn’t imagine someone not loving their family, but as he learned more, he began to piece it together.

He was outside the hospital wing, hiding in a tiny alcove as he waited to see if his friend was okay, when he heard Madam Pomfrey shouting at the Headmaster. Abuse. Her family physically abused her, starved her even. It was a foreign concept to an eleven year old boy who complained that his mother smothered him too much with love. There was no way he could get her away from them, so he enlisted the help of his family for ideas, though he only told his mother the reason why. It didn’t take long for Fred and George to figure it out though, seeing the few scars they had in the locker rooms, before they were pulling him aside with questions of their own. Percy didn’t say anything, but gave a quiet nod that he would watch as he could, even though he didn’t know what was going on; it was enough that his little brother was worried, and that comforted Ron when he thought all Percy cared about was his studies. His mum and dad had been proud of him for looking after someone, but he didn’t want praise for this, he wanted his friend to have a family that loved her. It was only right that he offer his own.

After that Christmas, she really seemed to open up, though she still didn’t talk about her home life. Maybe she’d already tried telling an adult, and nothing ever came of it. What good would telling another child do? It was the first year she’d gotten a Christmas present, the first gifts she’d ever been given, and he tried not to react to that; he’d seen how embarrassed she’d gotten when the twins asked about the scars on her arms. She started cracking jokes more, expressing her opinions on things, pranks that even the ‘victim’ laughed at. She never liked to embarrass people, and if anything her pranks seemed to make friends of the people around her.

She thought nothing of helping Hagrid smuggle out a baby dragon, or taking the heat for getting caught after hours so that George wouldn’t. Hermione had cracked under the pressure, crying when she thought no one was looking, but after Hera pulled her aside it was as if a lumos had been cast. He quickly realized Hera had no regard for her own life when another was in danger. Hermione had told him the details of that detention they’d gone on, what had happened when they’d been separated from Neville. He made sure to give Malfoy hell for weeks for abandoning them like that, though a part of him knows he has no idea if he would have stayed or ran.

The end of that first year had not gone as expected. The harmless prank for Snape had somehow turned into a trap of Dumbledore’s making; set for Quirrell, but they’d fallen for it too. She’d kept the secret of the Philosopher's Stone from them, out of shame and anger at what she’d seen in the mirror, the lie she could never have as truth. She’d gone on that adventure with him in the lead, because they were bored and wanted to see what would happen. Though she’d waved it off, Ron wasn’t about to forget that Hera had been hurt because of a decision he’d made.

He wasn’t likely to forget the sight of Quirrell’s dead body, that was for sure, but it was the sight of Hera looking so lifeless that had scared him the most. She’d lived, but that was the first time he realized they could actually die. He really hadn’t thought about it before, being eleven and all. It was much easier to think of Quidditch and food. It had been easy to be angry at her for standing up for the Slytherins when Gryffindor had stolen the House Cup, but had to admit it would feel crummy to win something by stealing it out from under them like that.

That summer, he’d known something was wrong when Hedwig had camped out there and refused to leave even when he gave her a letter. He’d talked Fred and George into stealing the Ford Angela, because he’d need one of them to drive, and backup was always nice. Who knew what they could run into while trying to rescue her? She’d looked like she’d lost weight over the summer, and she was already specky before then. She didn’t look like she’d gotten much sleep either, and had fallen asleep in the Ford Angela on the way over.

He’d expected Mum’s anger, knowing it would be out of worry; they all had. Hera had not. She’d panicked and had a bout of accidental magic, and ended up apparating away. Fred had told them to look for a small dark space when they were searching for her, because the door to the cupboard under the stairs had bore the words ‘Hera’s room’. His mum had gotten a particular look about her at that, and then it wasn’t long before they found Hera passed out in the pantry. He’s fairly certain his mum spent the rest of the summer trying to fatten Hera up, because he’d have to hide her away when her face got that pained look like she’d eaten too much, and sometimes she would get sick from that; her stomach just couldn’t hold the amount of food that his mum wanted to put into it.

Second year had been no less memorable, though now he had new worries to focus on. The DADA teacher seemed a bit too obsessed with his friend, and he’d written home about it, only to discover that his mum was just as blind to the danger of the man as the girls at school all seemed to be. His dad had been better about advice, and at least the teachers weren’t blind to the man. Seeing Hera duel later on, Ron hadn’t realized she could be so ruthless. She’d fought with a tenacity she didn’t display normally, but even he had to admit that watching her talk to the snake had scared him.

Being reminded that it was connected to her talking to dragons quickly put things into perspective for him, because that was cool, and Charlie was still trying to get her to work at the Dragon Reserve in Romania. Suddenly, he was having to be Hera’s emotional support buddy, because Hermione’d lost her mind in books and public opinion or something. He’d not been prepared for that, but he’d tried. She seemed to be okay most of the time, so he gave her space when she looked like she needed it, and tried to distract her with wizarding chess the rest of the time. He might have also enlisted the help of that Creevey kid, and Ginny.

At least Lockhart hadn’t stayed long, and though Ron had the distinct impression Hera had had a hand in that somehow, he hadn’t asked. The teachers had had to pick up the slack in rotation, because there was no way to find a replacement so soon. Third year had brought out a lot of changes. Sirius Black being innocent of being a mass murderer, Scabbers being a human in hiding, and the school year hadn’t even begun yet. Hera had put herself in harm’s way to protect them from the Dementor, and they hadn’t even gotten to school, though an adult was present. She protected Malfoy from himself without a thought.

She’d certainly been a lot more outspoken that year; defying teachers, ignoring the headmaster, meeting with Malfoy’s dad, smarting off to adults. He had worried she was spiraling, but she never talked back to McGonagall or the other professors like that, so he tried not to worry too much. She really hadn’t liked Lupin trying to butter her up with stories of her parents, figuring that any true friends of her parents would have visited, but that had worked itself out. At least the rest of the year had remained blissfully normal, till the summer anyway. Her first thought when seeing tortured children had been to leap towards the danger, not worry she would be next, and he and the others had followed suit without even thinking about it.

It was her words at the Second Task that made him see backwards, made him realize the pattern he’d been missing. How many times had he seen her risk her life with the approval, or the lack of reprimand, of an adult? How many times had she been rewarded for doing something risky when an adult should have handled it instead? This prompted more letters to home, more questions for his father; his mum having long since stuck her head in the sand of denial. She didn’t want to believe Dumbledore would willingly risk a child’s life like this, but what Ron and the others were seeing was unmistakable, and the pattern was too plain to see to ignore now.

Maybe it wasn’t his intention, but Dumbledore had put her life at risk with those Dursleys. Adults weren’t perfect, after all. He didn’t seem like the evil sort, not that Ron really had experience in what that was, just a bit too pushy about his well meaning intentions. A lot of adults seemed like that, now that he thought about it. They all seemed to think they knew better, without actually listening to what the kid was trying to tell them. He wondered if they would be like that when they got to be adults.

Tony needed to be prepared for when Hera ran off to help someone, or when she just did things without a thought. He needed to be prepared for her to risk her life without thought to her own. He needed to know not to react when she talked about the Dursleys, or else she wouldn’t share anything. If he messed this up, the Ministry could step in, and who knows where she’d end up then. Ron had heard enough about Fudge to know that he was the absolute worst person to decide the fate of Hera.

So Ron sat Tony down, and explained things. He talked about his observations at meeting her, more so now that he could look back on them with clarity of focus. He told him the things she’d done without hesitation. He told him about what mannerisms he’d noticed. Ron wanted this brother thing to work out for his friend, and he’d do anything to make sure that the man didn’t mess it up, and if Tony ever did…Well, Ron had older brothers that would help him hide the body.

“Think you’ll be okay, kid?” Tony asked, when the five minute warning was given at dinner that evening.

“Yeah, I’ve been training for this.” Hera admitted, though she was still nervous.

He didn’t need to know just how true that statement was. There were quite a few things she was worried about tonight, and she wasn’t sure she’d planned for them all. Between Karkaroff’s nervous fidgeting, and Moody’s incessant stalking, she felt like she was crawling out of her skin. It bothered her when she couldn’t find Percy amongst the judges. It bothered her more when she realized Moody was going to be one of the ones patrolling the blasphemous maze they’d turned her beloved Quidditch pitch into.

“Remember, Cedric,” She whispered as they made it to a fork in the maze. “give it everything you have, and be careful. Something doesn’t feel right about all of this.”

“I’ll keep my guard up,” Cedric promised, and then cracked a grin. “even around you.”

“Good. Now, off with you.” Hera snickered, and took the left while Cedric took the right.

The further in she went, the taller the hedges seemed to get, the more the feeling of being watched seemed to envelop her. If it was Moody, she’d have to watch how she marked her trail. That eye of his could see much more than most, and she wasn’t keen on him erasing her tried paths. Things seemed a bit too deserted here, as if the maze itself was trying to lure her into a false sense of security, hyping up her paranoia even more. Twice now she’d hit dead ends, and she’d run into Cedric again before he darted off.

“Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts!” He’d said. “I only just got away!”

Not keen on sticking around either, Hera darted through another path. That point me spell was rather handy as far as general directions go, but it was instinct she listened to now. A bubble-head charm got her through the golden mist, but now she had another problem. After several more dead ends, she’d finally ran into her first real obstacle, the blast-ended skrewt. As terrifying as it looked, like a giant scorpion with thick armour, it really just wanted cuddles…and maybe to sample her blood so it would know she was a friend.

Fleur called out, screaming, but it was cut off suddenly. Was she hurt? Dead? Hera didn’t know, but she couldn’t risk getting scared to try and apparate now. What if she didn’t get it right? What if she landed somewhere else entirely? Unable to find the source of the scream, Hera was forced to give up, and keep going. There was something else she had accidentally discovered she could do, travel through shadows, but that wasn’t something she wanted to test without knowing where she was going at least.

In any case, the sphinx didn’t seem to appreciate it when she used it to avoid the riddle altogether, and then the sphinx met the doggedly loyal Blast-Ended Skrewt that had decided to follow after Hera. Would Tony let her keep a Blast-Ended Skrewt as a pet? Best not. Hagrid might get sad if the only living one left were to leave Hogwarts, and Hera wasn’t sure even creating the breed was at all legal. She still wasn’t sure why Hagrid hid his wand in his umbrella, or why he pretended he didn’t have it. He’d gotten really twitchy at the Chamber of Secrets incident.

Hera decided it was a later problem, mainly because at that moment she was faced with Cedric losing a battle with the biggest damned spider she’d ever seen in her admittedly short life. Hagrid had talked about them with her once: Acromantulas. Intelligent creatures, they could understand human speech, though only a few seemed to be able to converse in it. He’d even agreed to take her into the forest to introduce her to Aragog, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. What she did know was that they were not native to Scotland, and though it would hurt Hagrid, this one had to go.

...

Cedric fell onto his back, and began crawling backwards, unsure how much longer he could hold his own against this thing. The acromantula was resistant to just about everything he’d tried, and it was still coming at him. He was decidedly not prepared for Hera to come hurdling above him, land on the giant spider’s head, and drive a dagger through the thing’s brain. It scrambled to try and dislodge her, even as it seized into death throws, and Hera ended up having to jump off of the acromantula as it curled in on itself. However, rather than continue on the obvious path to the trophy, Hera began gathering parts of the acromantula into vials; particularly the venom, pincers, and hairs.

“You alright over there?” She asked, sounding a bit winded as she worked.

“Yeah.” Cedric replied as he got up, a bit rueful that he hadn’t thought of what she had. “How’d you know to carry a knife with you?”

“I’m an apprentice of one of the most paranoid bastards on the planet besides Mad Eye Moody.” Hera shrugged as she continued her work. “At this point, it’s just an occupational hazard that I have at least twelve on me at all times, if not more. Never know when I’m going to need them, or what for, so there’s a bit of a variety.”

“Point.” Cedric allowed, because it was more than fair to assume Professor Snape was a paranoid bastard. “Did you see any of the others?”

“Heard Fleur scream earlier. Couldn’t find her.” Hera admitted, not looking over at him yet. “You?”

“Krum tried to attack me, but something was off…” Cedric relayed. “His eyes were funny, like when Professor Moody cast the Imperious on us in class.”

“Funny how?” Hera asked, instantly on alert. “I didn’t see what the effects were. I freaked out, and attacked the professor for trying to cast them on us instead of allowing it.”

“Icy blue, glassy almost.” Cedric informed her, only to hear her curse.

“Shite. That’s what that was?” She mutters to herself. “I didn’t think. Mind control…that arsehole…I thought it just…it was just…that he was…that he just wanted it to stop…that he was tortured…He was mind controlled?…His eyes, how did I miss that?…”

She shook her head as if to clear it, before looking at him in confusion. “What are you still doing here? The trophy is right there.”

“I know. I just…couldn’t take it.” Cedric admitted sheepishly. “Didn’t seem fair when you’d just saved my life and all.”

“Cedric, what did I say?” She huffed, giving him quite the unimpressed glare.

“Give it all I’ve got; I remember.” Cedric grinned, gesturing to the trophy, as an idea struck him. She’d never expect him to pull a stunt like this. “You also told me to be careful. Do you really think they would leave something like this unguarded in the middle of a clearing?”

“Well, only one way to find out.” Hera snorted, stalked over and grabbed the trophy, right before realization dawned on her face. “I can’t believe I actually fell for that.”

“I can’t believe you actually fell for that.” Cedric snickered, only to become concerned when her eyes widened and her body lurched. “Hera, what’s wrong?”

“Bloody portkey!”

and with that, she disappeared.

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Hera, what’s wrong?”

“Bloody portkey!”

and with that, she disappeared.

Chapter 35

Hera landed hard, her legs buckling under her, and her stomach contents availing themselves to the ground at her feet. It was bloody awful, portkey travel. Now shaking and weak, she took at look at the landscape, and could not find Hogwarts. Just how far had she traveled? Standing alone in the middle of a graveyard was not how she thought this night was going to go, but before she could locate the trophy again, she saw a figure in the mist coming towards her.

Whoever it was, wore a hood over their face to obscure it, and it looked like they were carrying something. A baby, or a bundle of clothes, maybe. They were short, but that was all she was able to tell before an unbearable pain exploded from her scar. Blood poured down her face, mingling with the grass below, as she tried to catch her breath. Too much like The Other, she kept thinking, but that invited thoughts she didn’t wish to examine too closely at the moment.

Before she could collect her thoughts, the shrouded person was roughly jerking her to her feet, dragging her to a nearby marble headstone. Hera saw a name on it, before she was forced around and slammed against it. Tom Riddle. The name on the trophy in the Founders Hall. The name on the diary that had tried to steal her magic. She’d ignored a piece of the puzzle, she realized, and she was paying the price for it now.

The cloaked man conjured tight ropes around Hera in her dizzied state, tying her from neck to ankles to the headstone. She could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood. It was only just beginning to occur to her that she should struggle, though when she tried the man hit her…with a hand that had a finger missing, and hadn’t that…That had come out about Peter Pettigrew.

“You!” Hera gasped in realization.

Wormtail didn’t reply, just busily checked the ropes, hands shaking as he went about his work. Once the man was certain Hera was secured, he took a bit of black cloth and stuffed it in her mouth. Rude. Now what was she going to do with all this running commentary in her mind just begging to be let out? It at least gave her something to clamp down on when the pain hit her scar again, before Wormtail came back into her field of vision carrying a bundle of cloth…

She had a bad feeling about whatever was in that cloth. He left the cloth bundle by the foot of the grave, huffing as he brought into her field of vision a large stone cauldron. She can hear Professor Snape in her head, grumbling about the abysmal working conditions already. This was a terrible place for a lab, but an ideal place for necromancy or maybe even a bit of blood magic…oh. If she could have smacked herself, she would have.

As Wormtail worked, steam thickened the air until Hera could barely make him out. Damn her dizziness! She could swear the bundle was talking, demanding things, making Wormtail move faster with his work. Surely she was hallucinating too. No baby could look like that, no human child anyway. Thin, feeble, it appeared almost helpless, but something in Hera screamed that it was anything but.

Wormtail was speaking now, but it was almost like he was scared out of his wits. What was the man about to do? Hera could barely keep away the dizziness and confusion away long enough to pay attention to the words. Bones of the father…flesh of the servant…Blood of the enemy. Those could be potions ingredients, but what for? Why had he put that odd baby into the cauldron like that?

A terrible thought occurs to her, just as diamond sparks start flying. Wormtail was a Death Eater, one that had escaped prison. What would he do, if not go to his master? But how could he do that when the man was technically worse than dead, a wraith? Through the vapor that had poured out of the cauldron, Hera had her answer when she began to make out the outline of a man. Wormtail had resurrected his master. Oh.

“Robe me.” A high, cold voice called from beyond the steam.

As the steam cleared, and the man stepped out of the cauldron, Wormtail robed him. All the while, he stared at Hera, and what was she to do but stare back. His face was whiter than a skull, with wide vivid scarlet eyes, and a nose that was as flat as a snake’s with slits for nostrils…This was Voldemort as he had been in his last days, if not more inhuman than before, for there was a blueish tint to his skin now, and oh so faint lines like her own if she looked hard enough. Though seeing this gave her pause, if Hera had not had nightmares about someone much worse than this, she might have been afraid now; knowing what she did about what she was and what he'd done.

As it was, she was quite unimpressed with the theatrics of it all. There was the standard speech littered with bouts of self importance, threats, with a dash of tragic back story she might have been able to feel sympathy for had she not been tied to a gravestone at the time. There were followers, of course, complete with groveling and kissing of robes. Merlin help her, this man loved the sound of his own voice. To be fair he hadn’t actually had vocal cords for over a decade, so she tried to cut him some slack, but there was only so much a person could take before they got bored.

She watched as he crucioed them for begging for mercy, as he scolds Wormtail for his fear. The gleaming silver hand thing is a nice bit of magic; sure to bite the fool in the arse later, but impressive all the same. The voice of Lucius Malfoy reaches her ears, and she curses to herself. Some of these men, these fearful stupid foolish men, were the fathers of her new friends. How could she possibly…Hang on. Idea.

Willing repentant Death Eaters? Well…they might be if she can kick this guy’s arse, remind them they were men once, and not these sniveling dogs she saw before her now. The idea was worth considering. She couldn’t expect them to change their beliefs, not all at once, but she can prove here and now that power meant more than blood. If she can do that, they’ll wash their hands of him…she hopes. Her musings were broken by pain, and she belatedly realized she’d lost her focus. He’d been relaying the tale of his rise to power once more, and she’d been bored to tears, which he apparently taken as an insult.

Really, she was going to have to do something if he didn’t kick things up a notch. Wasn’t this supposed to hurt more? Had that Other really pushed Loki’s pain threshold beyond that of the norm, or was it some combination with him and the Dursleys? Would her dreams have an affect on her like that? They’d helped her know how to fight Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, after all.

“Untie her, Wormtail, and give her back her wand.”

Finally, something was happening.

...

This is not how Lucius had imagined his evening going, and now he was running scenario after scenario in his mind, only to come up with no way for them to survive this. He may believe the Old Ways should be preserved, may even think the muggleborns as being beneath him, but the Dark Lord wasn’t the answer anymore…if he had ever been. He’d felt the mark on his arm burn, knew what it meant, knew that their time was up. Their hope for a way out was over. The Dark Lord had returned, and there was no escaping his madness now.

He could see the thinly veiled looks of fear the others shared with each other, clear even through the masks they wore, knew that they too were parents. They would all be expected to promise their children to this mad man. Towards the end, the Dark Lord had let all pretense of fighting for the Old Ways fade, and they’d been faced with the truth of what the man really was. It is that truth, wrapped up in a snake like construct of a body, that they are faced with again now. They would not be able to protect their children from this.

“Untie her, Wormtail, and give her back her wand.”

The words seemed to hit him all at once. This was what was going to happen to their children should they resist; because, of course, Hera Potter would resist. Could he allow this to happen to his son, to someone else the same age as his son? Was there truly nothing he could do? Strange that Potter didn’t look frightened at all. Instead she looked utterly bored, but a steeled sort of resolve takes over her features when Pettigrew shuffled over to her with her wand, cutting her bindings with a flick of magic. And then…

Crack!

If there was another sound made by anyone else, Lucius didn’t hear it. Standing in front of the gravestone she’d been tied to, Hera Potter had just decked Pettigrew with a mean right hook. Considering she’d punched a hippogriph hard enough to knock it back a few steps, he’d hate to see the condition of Pettigrew’s face right now. The rat animagi had fallen backwards, and hadn’t gotten up. Potter just stood there breathing heavily, till she seemed to realize she was being watched by the group of Death Eaters surrounding her, and the Dark Lord.

“My apologies.” She offers belatedly, still breathing heavily. “Just had to get that out of my system.”

Pettigrew whimpers in the background.

“Oh, shut it, you big baby.” She scoffs, glaring down at where Pettigrew had fallen. “I barely even hit you.”

Says the young woman who’d thrown her whole body into hitting that man, Lucius thinks but doesn’t say.

“Potter!”

Lucius knew that tone, knew that it meant the Dark Lord was this close to crucioing someone, but Potter just turns around like she’d forgotten he was there.

“Oh, right. Didn’t realize you were just going to…go like that.” She shrugged, absentmindedly waving in his direction. “Figured you’d wanted a bit of time to transfigure a proper nose for yourself, hair, or at least eyebrows. How much shrinkage is allowed before you realize you went with the Ken doll option? I saw what you looked like without robes, you know. Figured you definitely wanted some time to fix that.”

Most of the Death Eaters looked confused at Ken doll option, but Lucius started coughing to hide the laughter that wanted to bubble up at this most inopportune of moments; because as a business man with dabblings in both worlds, he knew what a Ken doll was. They were more wondering if they should act insulted because her earlier comments, but at Lucius’ cough they got the gist that she was insulting his bits too. Lucius managed to stop coughing, but it was enough for the Dark Lord to know Lucius had understood her insults. Only McNair tittered as he did, but for very different reasons. It was well known that the man only had the job of executioner for the Ministry because that was the only way he could legally sate his blood lust. The Dark Lord shot out a curse Potter didn’t even look up to block, instead just batting it away like it was a gnat or a fly.

“You know, the way people speak of you…the way they fear even saying the moniker they have for you…” Potter commented idly, as she regarded the Dark Lord with a modicum of curiosity. “I don’t know…I was expecting……more.”

“You will bow before death, girl.” Voldemort hissed, firing off a curse at her, which she blocked without effort.

“Care to introduce me?” She retorted. “Or did you plan to monologue some more first?”

“Crucio!”

She couldn’t block it in time, but she didn’t dodge it either. Instead, her entire body went rigid as she fought it. She did not even shout, or cry in pain. When the Dark Lord released the spell, there was only silence. Though she shook, Lucius had the distinct impression that it was with rage rather than suffering, something that seemed to be reflected in her now blood garnet coloured eyes as she glared at the Dark Lord.

“My turn.”

...

Though Hera had not thought about it for some time, she knew the full prophecy Riddle had marked her for by going after her as an infant. That’s one of the things Professor Snape had insisted she learn the day she’d been pinned for her apprenticeship. She had powers the Dark Lord knew not, and neither could live while the other survived. She’d been hoping it was more of a metaphorical sense of living and surviving with each minding their own business while the other did whatever, but one couldn’t have everything, especially with the idiot so intent on trying to kill her. The dangerous thing was that he’d used her blood for the resurrection ritual, so anything she could do, he could learn. She couldn't let him realize what he'd become, but there was a very small window for the element of surprise.

Conjuring knives and ice shards, she sent them at him in intervals, always keeping the man on his toes. If he was constantly dodging things, he couldn’t cast spells. Punching him in the heart wasn’t going to work this time, as the man most likely now had the same dense bone structure she did. Ice wouldn’t hurt him the same way anymore either. If only she could turn the ritual around on him…Wait, that might actually be possible.

Slicing along the meat of her palm below her thumb with one of the knives she’d made it a habit of carrying around with her, she began to hopefully reverse the ritual, letting the blood drip into the cauldron. “Blood of the enemy, willingly given, you will destroy your foe.”

Voldemort lurched, staggering as he tried to avoid the shards and curse her at the same time.

“Flesh of the servant, forcibly taken, you will abolish your master.” She snarled, before hauling Wormtail up just enough to cleave off the forearm with the silver hand, freezing the nub his arm had become before separating the forearm from the silver hand, and tossing the flesh into the cauldron as well.

The hand she placed into a containment box till she could examine it later, and shoved it down into one of her expandable pockets. She'd have to thank Professor Snape later. It apparently paid to be a paranoid bastard. She hadn't even thought she'd need a meat cleaver for this. When she'd told Cedric there was a variety, she might have been underselling how many she really had on her at the moment, and it wasn't like she couldn't conjure more.

“Loquuntur cum mortuis.”

She really hoped this part worked.

“You’ve got some nerve, Kid.” She hears from behind her, only to turn around to face what should have been what Voldemort looked like at this age…had he not tried to rip his soul to shreds. “What am I doing here?”

“I thought you’d like to stick it to your bitch arse of a son.” She blurted out, pointing to the man now some ways behind her…who was currently being beset by the skeletons and various corpses that had resided in the graveyard. Huh. She might have put a bit too much power into that last spell.

“What do you need?” The man asked, regarding her with some curiosity.

“He used your bones to bring himself back to life, without your knowledge.” She quickly replied. “Can I use your bones to take his life from him, with your knowledge? It’s the only way I can think of that the spell can be reversed.”

“Fucking magic.” The man grumbled, but then saw her wilt before his eyes, and he caved. “Don’t be like that, Poppet. I was drugged with a love potion for years. There’s going to be some resentment there. It’s not against you, and you have been exceedingly polite, given the circumstances. Take what you need. You have my blessing.”

She nodded, keeping eye contact, and began. “Bone of the father, knowingly offered, you will annihilate your son.”

“NOOOOOO!!!!!”

Riddle Sr faded from view after giving her a slight nod, and seeing that his son was losing his mind with rage trying to get to her, even as the bone dust swirled in the air and entered the potion. The skeletons had all but dragged him back to the cauldron, and no amount of struggling seemed to be able to free him, no spell made them lose their hold. Those most loyal to him were beating against the barrier he’d created at some point, calling out, begging him for instruction, but there was nothing to be done. Hera took a run and leaped, knocking both him and herself into the cauldron. The pain in her forehead was so great that she could barely keep her eyes open to appreciate the look of sheer unadulterated rage on Voldemort’s face before passing out.

...

The cauldron erupted in a series of sparks and hisses before exploding in a literal sense, sending shards of metal everywhere, causing the group to duck for cover behind various grave stones. The wraith that the Dark Lord had been flew off into the night, and those most loyal to him vanished before they could risk fighting the girl that had vanquished their master once more, but the girl herself lay motionless on the ground. It looked like she was dead. Thankfully, Potter began coughing up potion liquid, but it took a bit before she was struggling to stand. When she did, she looked around like she couldn’t believe her eyes, the affect made all the more ludicrous with her drowned rat impression.

“Potter…Potter, just what the hell was that?” Lucius demanded, ripping off his mask and stalking over to her now that the barrier was gone. Very few of the Death Eaters now remained, specifically those that had children at Hogwarts.

“Can you plant a memory?” She asks, instead of explaining. “I have…like…half of an idea.”

“Is anything else going to explode if I agree to help you?” He snapped, only being half sarcastic.

She paused to actually consider the question, still slightly out of it, before replying with. “…Not today.”

“Oh, well then, as long as it’s not today.” Lucius commented snidely, but it just made her snicker.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Potter shouted, causing everyone to jump, but they relaxed when they saw the spell was aimed for Pettigrew; who had been trying to sneak away before the spell hit him. “Alright, I’ll assume you lot are the parents of some of my friends. I’m going to need your Death Eater masks and robes to make this believable, so gimmie.”

“Excuse me?” Lucius asked, flummoxed.

Potter had already started crafting a rather elaborate and convincing illusion of Pettigrew ‘setting up’ the area.

“I don’t know the Minister, but from the things I hear, he’s the type to want to Ostrich whenever trouble arises; you know…stick his head in the sand, and pretend everything is fine.” She stated, not turning from her work. “What do you think he would do if I suddenly came back, covered in blood and potion, crying that Voldewort had returned? He’d stick his head so far up his own arse, it would take old Moldyshorts showing up at the Ministry with flowers on bended knee before he would believe it.”

“Why do you keep butchering the Dark Lord’s name like that?” Lucius found himself asking. The other parents all looked curious about this too, hidden as they were behind their masks and such.

“First of all, you should stop calling him the Dark Lord. You are a grown arse man, and a lord in your own right. Act like it.” She scolded, turning slightly to face him and the others. “Refusal to say a name gives that name power, but mutilating it to the point that people can’t take it seriously anymore strips that power away*. So, robes and masks, if you please. I can free you from the Dark Mark, if that’s what you want, but we’re going to have to have a long conversation about how you treat people and magical creatures, and what I won’t tolerate.”

Everyone started quickly disrobing, thankfully wearing robes under those, and handing over their masks. She set each robe with a sticking charm to a mask, and then had them float to where they’d been, using the Pettigrew illusion to alter them as if it the rat animagi had set this all up himself. It was actually quite an ingenious bit of magic, and Lucius watched as an illusion of Potter ‘arrived’ via trophy portkey. The scene played out as usual, though the construct of the Dark Lord looked flawed and even more misshapen than before, dissolving quickly as ‘Pettigrew’ was captured by an escaping ‘Potter’. She then turned to them, and it was only then that Lucius realized how drained she was.

“How are you even able to do that?” Lucius asked, gesturing to the illusion she’d just banished.

“Oh, uh…No one told me I couldn’t, so I just…did?” She shrugged, and Lucius could feel his right eye twitching. This, this is why Severus insisted she apprentice with him.

“You’re not going to be able to stand up for much longer, let alone free us.” Lucius warned. “At least, not right now.”

She reluctantly nodded in understanding. “Could one of you take what I did, and plant the memory in his head? Mine too. Oh, and obliviate him of the actual activities of the night. That would be great.”

“Why hide the attempted return?” Lucius asked, after looking from the parents and back to her.

“Besides Fudge being an Ostrich?” She asked weakly. They all nodded. “I won’t be. I’ll tell those who will actually listen, but those tend to be the people not in power, people who can actually do things. So, could one of you do the thing? Maybe before I pass out?”

Quote

Refusal to say a name gives that name power, but mutilating it to the point that people can’t take it seriously anymore strips that power away – Kintatsujo (found on Pinterest)

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Why hide the attempted return?” Lucius asked, after looking from the parents and back to her.

“Besides Fudge being an Ostrich?” She asked weakly. They all nodded. “I won’t be. I’ll tell those who will actually listen, but those tend to be the people not in power, people who can actually do things. So, could one of you do the thing? Maybe before I pass out?”

Chapter 36

“Something’s not right.” Severus muttered, looking over the maze. Two red sparks had come up, but nothing yet for the others.

“Quick question. Why can’t we see anything?” Stark asked, butting in. Severus sighed, the man was as annoying as James had been in his youth. “I get the whole navigate a maze deal with obstacles inside, but why are we sitting in the bleachers when you all don’t even have something to magically follow them around so we can see what’s going on?”

It was like a pin had dropped. That’s what was wrong. They were supposed to be able to see them. After the disaster that was the second task, it had been decided that they would set up something to see them during this one. So what had happened, and why had it taken him till now to realize what was wrong? Severus began moving through the crowd, Stark following after him, heading for Dumbledore. Many of the onlookers were confused, but parted quickly upon seeing that the Potions Master was on a mission.

“Albus, something’s wrong.” Severus stated, once he’d made his way to the judges table. “The viewscopes should be active. We should be seeing them. What happened?”

“Interference of some kind, I’m afraid. We’ve not been able to localize it.” Albus sighed, having been trying to solve the matter along with his fellow judges. “Does your companion have any electronics on him perhaps?”

“Nothing that would interfere with a magical field of this size.” Stark argued.

“How would you know?” Karkaroff demanded, though his bravado seemed more for show than anything else.

“I read.” Stark replied, talking as if to a simpleton.

“What are you even doing here?” Fudge demanded, puffing his chest out to make himself look important. “You’re a muggle! This is breaking the Statute of Secrecy, Albus! I demand-”

“How?” Stark countered. “I’m Hera Potter’s brother.”

Fudge sputtered, trying to find something to be indignant about.

“How much longer do you think that bubble’s gonna hold, anyway?” Stark continue contemplatively eyeing the man now. “You have two of the most famous and influential people on this planet, one magical and one non-magical, both of whom are related to each other. Muggles have near instantaneous communications across the globe. Camera surveillance is nearly everywhere, and it’s only going to continue to grow. We have the ability to pinpoint locations using satellites that orbit the Earth, and we can blow up entire cities if we feel the need. I should know. I design the weapons that can do that. In fact, I’m so good at it, the newspapers have started calling me the Merchant of Death. So when I say I know something, I know it, and I would really appreciate it if you stopped second guessing me because you think muggles are stupid. We scared you even when all you thought we had were torches and pitchforks. What’s that say about you?”

Fudge looked like he wanted to make something of it, but just then a couple of the perimeter guards came out with Krum and Delacour floating in unconscious states.

“Man eating vines got to Miss Delacour, it seems, and…Krum is suffering a brain bleed from trying to resist the Imperious Curse.” Madam Pomfrey announced, after a quick examination.

“That’s one of the ‘you go to straight to prison’ ones, right?” Stark asked, looking to Severus, who nodded; his face decidedly grim. “Yeah, Hera’s not coming to school here anymore.”

“You can’t just pull her out of school, my boy-” Albus began, only to have Stark snap his fingers and poke the man in the chest.

“First off, I’m not your boy. Second, you have no say so over Hera. Third, you can’t tell me there aren’t magic schools in the US, or that there aren’t tutors or something. She’s apprenticed to a Potions Master, and he’s not obligated to stay here anymore than she is.” Stark argued. “He gets a good enough job offer, and he’s gone; and trust me, not only could I outbid you, I could afford to burn the money just to watch you suffer.”

It suddenly dawns on Severus that, even though he knows she hasn’t told Stark about what happened yet, the man is right. The Dark Mark, and the Vow that had been attached to it, is gone. He could go anywhere, do anything. He wasn’t beholden to Albus anymore. Severus was not the type to leave the school high and dry without a Potions professor, but it occurs to him that he could. Huh. Perhaps this is what Potter felt like whenever she had an idea about something that came with the sudden realization that no one had told her it wasn’t possible. This required thinking about.

“I’m an idiot.” Hera realizes, once Lucius planted the memory in her head. The man just looked at her in confusion. “…Dobby.”

With a pop, Dobby appeared in the middle of the graveyard with them.

“Harry Potter, this is not a place yous should be in!” Dobby scolded with worry, his already bulbous eyes growing larger when they spotted his former master.

“Dobby, Rat man kidnapped me in an attempt to bring back the Great Git. Mr Malfoy and these others all wish to be freed from the Dark Mark, but that’s going to take time and energy I don’t have today.” Hera informed him. “Would you take them somewhere safe? I have informed them that there is certain behaviours they are well known for that I will not be tolerating, and cruelty to you and others of your kind are one of those things. Should they not comply with treating you with dignity and respect, I imagine they will find it very informative if you gave them some practical experience on what it is really like to live as a poorly treated and enslaved House Elf.”

Dobby thought about it for a moment, and then nodded in affirmative. “Harry Potter should be going back to Hogwarts first.”

“Thank you, Dobby.” Hera sighed gratefully. “Oh! Could you get a pair of animagi dampening cuffs from the Aurors, or maybe a collar? If they agree, tell them I was kidnapped via Portkey by Pettigrew, and the Portkey will go back to Hogwarts, so meet us there. Also, it’s okay to tell them I have knocked him out.”

...

She wanted to hurl as soon as she landed. Portkey travel really was the worst. She was shaky enough as it was from the events of the night, but this did not help. The smell of grass filled Hera’s nose, and she used it to ground her in the here and now. Sounds of screams reached her, the people in the stands realizing that all was not right somehow. Pettigrew began squirming, and it all came back to her. Now that the anger hit her full force, Hera stood up, dragging Pettigrew with her, and leveled her glare at the first person that came rushing up to her.

“Would anyone like to tell me why no one was informed that Pettigrew had escaped?” She demanded, hoisting Pettigrew up as proof.

“I’m the Minister of Magic! You shouldn’t talk to me that way!” The man exclaimed in indignation, and Hera snorted.

“I’ve just been kidnapped via portkey to a graveyard in the middle of who knows where, was used unwillingly in some half baked blood magic ritual in this idiot’s bizarre attempt to bring back his Dark Lord from the dead, only for it to fail and call forth some unholy golem that ended up melting before my eyes.” She snapped, giving him a withering glare. “I’ll talk to you any damn way I like, and right now I would like to know why no one informed me or anyone else that this man had escaped Azkaban.”

“Miss Potter, my name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. I’m an Auror with the Ministry. Your house elf Dobby sent for me. Do you remember?” An ebony skinned man with flamboyant yellow robes with stark black embellishments announced, cautiously stepping forward. “I see the cuffs held; nub of an arm beside. Good.”

“Is there a cell for animagi? Or an animagi dampening collar?” Hera asked politely, transferring Pettigrew to the man. “I’m not sure cuffs were really the way to go.”

Shacklebolt took charge of Pettigrew, and Hera felt the magic exhaustion and lack of adrenaline begin to catch up to her.

“Hera! Hera!” Tony was suddenly in front of her, checking her over for injuries as if he were a worried mum. “What happened? Are you hurt? I’m an idiot. Of course, you’re hurt. No more death tourneys, Sport. I’m not supposed to get gray hairs till my nineties, and maybe not even then.”

Hera just started snickering. Of course, he would mother her like she did her friends.

“I’m fine, Tony, just tired.” Hera sighed, her eyes barely able to stay open as it was. “Magic exhaustion is a pain. I just need sleep, and enough food to feed three Volstaggs, but I can’t right now. Someone helped him.”

“Helped him? Helped who?” Tony asked before Fudge could.

“Pettigrew. He had to have help from someone here.” Hera stated, trying to fight off the sleep she knew she needed. “Someone had to have tricked the Goblet, changed the transport of the trophy portkey from here to that graveyard.”

“Who?” Fudge demanded, trying to instigate himself into this impromptu investigation.

“He didn’t say.” Hera shook her head. “Wasn’t making any sense. Someone’s been breaking into Professor Snape’s ingredients cupboard though, have been all year. We can never catch them, and they never leave any evidence other than the missing ingredients, so we never reported it.”

“Stay here, Miss Potter. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Dumbledore insisted, looking more concerned than she could ever remember him being. His expression quickly became one of surprise when Hera shot forward, and punched him square in the face.

“This is all your fault!” She shouted angrily, shocking the people around her, energy momentarily boosted from anger. Dumbledore himself looked at her with wide eyes as he held his hand to his jaw, though considering the state of Pettigrew’s face, Hera thought he should count himself lucky she hadn’t punched him with everything she could. “Do you just enjoy putting children in danger for your own amusement? Because that’s all I’ve seen you do since I’ve been here!”

“Potter, that’s enough.”

She has no idea who’s said that, and right now she doesn’t care.

“No it isn’t! It’ll never be enough! He endangers children’s lives every day, and no one ever does anything!” She continued shouting. More people were listening to her now. “None of you thought it odd to hold a death tournament with schools of children?! I mean, why not?! It’s entertainment! Never mind that you risked children’s lives for your own amusement! Never mind that wixen children are to be seen as precious, because there are so few of us!”

“Potter-”

Again, she has no idea who’s trying to stop her; her eyes firmly on Dumbledore.

“No! You egotistical overblown jackass! I almost died because of you! Again!” She continues to shout. “My friends have almost died because of you! There is a young quarter veela who may never recover because of you, and another who is distraught because her sister was who she would miss most! There’s no way her parents gave you permission to risk her life! I was taken hostage via portkey, used in some blood ritual, and almost murdered! Because. Of. You!”

“Potter-”

“What would you have done?!” She demanded, glaring at the man now. “If Hermione had died? If Gabrielle had died? Or Ron? Cho? What would you have done?! What? A quick little note? Sorry your child is dead? Better luck next time?

Hermione’s parents are muggles! What would they have told people when their only daughter didn’t come home?! How could they be expected to just…move on from that? She’s their only child, you utter bastard! How could you risk her life like that? Their lives like that?

Did you know what would happen to that little girl when you put her at the bottom of the Black Lake?! At least the Champions knowingly took the risk! Never mind that you didn’t guard the Goblet of Fire well enough that it was allowed to be Confounded in the first place. As an adult, of course, you know better! Of course, you are perfectly fine with allowing a barely fifteen year old girl to compete in a Death Tournament against her will!!!”

Silence reigned as she stalked ever closer to him until she was directly in front of him once more, glaring up at him.

“What would you have done if it had been Cedric tied to that grave stone?” She demanded, and though her voice was low, it rumbled through the crowd with a dangerous edge to it, like thunder almost. “What would you have told his father if he’d died there?”

“Potter.”

The voice that had been trying to reach her now finally breaking through her anger. She turned to glare at the intruder, only to see it was Professor Snape and Tony standing side by side. Both of them were looking at her with a mix of emotions she couldn’t break down at the moment. A wave of fatigue came over her then, as the anger and the energy it had temporarily given her vanished. She’d never meant to reveal so much to so many people, and now she couldn’t take it back.

“The memory. I have the memory.” She trudged on, a bit more subdued, returning to the matter of Pettigrew.

“I’ll collect it, Potter.” Snape nodded in understanding, giving a vial to Shaklebolt’s partner when he was done putting the strange silver thread fluid into it.

“He had masks and robes floating about, like fake Death Eaters.” Hera continued to report.

“She needs to go to the Hospital Wing.” A new voice, the voice, and Hera ducked her head to hide a smirk. “Come on now.”

...

This man was not going to stop, and she very much doubted that they were going to the hospital wing, so Hera deployed what she liked to call ‘Get Help’. The second she dead drops, the man grunted with the sudden weight. She’d expected him to just float her to wherever he planned to go, Moody’s office most likely. Instead, he kept half carrying/half dragging her, as if he’d forgotten he was a wizard! She could only hope that someone noticed soon.

“Here, drink this.” The man insisted, forcing something pepper tasting down her throat, once he’d managed to get her sitting down somewhere.

Get Help would only get one so far, it seemed. Hera realized she had another problem though. The pepperup had been spiked with Veritaserum. She felt the effects of it wash over her as a calm serene feeling. This was going to be a problem if she couldn’t control it. Professor Snape had planned to train her in that next year, but he’d taught her to recognize the signs already.

“What happened, Harry?” Moody asked, sounding concerned.

She could work with that. As she was not ‘Harry’, and he wasn’t someone she had designated as having permission to call her that, she didn’t feel compelled to answer.

“Hera Potter, what happened?” He repeated, perhaps realizing his error.

She could work with that too, and began to go over the events of the day; starting with breakfast.

“What happened after the trophy portkey activated the first time, Potter?” It sounded like someone was getting tetchy, but she could work with this too. He hadn’t said to tell him everything, after all.

“Took me to a graveyard…Pettigrew…tried to bring him back…made a potion…Death Eater at Hogwarts…put my name in…”

He waited, as if sensing there was more that needed to be said. She locked eyes with him, allowing a smirk to play across her face before she continued.

“…I know who it is.”

There was a moment, as if both were absorbing what she’d said. One of them blinked, and then he made to attack her. There was a bright flash as a well placed stupify from someone, Dumbledore by the sounds of it, stopped the impostor cold. ‘Moody’ was thrown backward into the room, and quickly bound by conjured ropes. Hera was immediately surrounded by Tony and Professor Snape, as a concerned Professor McGonagall split her time in between keeping an eye on Hera and guarding the door.

“Her eyes look absolutely blown.” Tony noted as he tried to get her to react by squeezing her hand in comfort, concern laced through his voice. “What did he drug her with?”

“Veritaserum…” She tried to tell them, unable to react to Tony in any other way as she was. “in the Pepper-Up…couldn’t stop him.”

The smirk had been as much a part of the answer for Moody as the words had been, but Tony was offering comfort for comforts sake, and Veritaserum didn’t allow for that.

“Veritaserum is a potion that renders one incapable of saying anything but the truth as they know it. Three drops is enough to have even the Dark Lord spilling his innermost secrets.” Snape confirmed, already getting a vial from one of his many pockets. “Drink this, Potter, it’s the antidote.”

“You just…carry one of these on you?” Tony asked, looking at the professor as if he’d grown a second head.

“In my profession, you learn to carry the antidote to everything on you at all times.” Professor Snape replied, as he helped Hera to drink the potion. “I am surrounded by dunderheaded children for most of the day. It’s an occupational hazard that one of them is going to poison themselves with something.”

“Thanks, Professor.” Hera sighed gratefully, coming back to herself, now finally able to respond to Tony, and then seeing the man behind them. “Who’s that?”

“I don’t…Barty Crouch?!” Professor Snape exclaimed, shock clearly throwing his normal calm to the winds. “No, that’s his son. Wait…Isn’t he supposed to be dead?”

“Is it weird that he looks like David Tennant?” Tony asks, absentmindedly.

“I don’t know who that is, Tony.” Hera pointed out, and he looked askance.

“But he’s you’re countryman!” Tony insisted, as if insulted.

“We don’t all know each other.” She snorted. “Is he supposed to be famous?”

“Is he supposed to be famous, she asks.” Tony mumbled, in mock offense. “We are watching so much BBC later.”

“Come along, Potter.” Professor McGonagall nudged, helping her up. “Let’s get you to the hospital wing for real this time.”

“No, Minerva. She needs to understand what’s happened.” Dumbledore insisted, even as he opened the trunk. “Only with understanding can there be acceptance, and with acceptance recovery.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do, Professor, but I’m not going to understand anything as I am.” Hera replied, leaning slightly into the ‘Get Help’ persona, though not much of that was pretend anymore. “Understanding can come after sleep, and enough food to feed an army…and maybe some pumpkin juice, and some chocolate. Is it possible to eat while I’m sleeping? That would be great. Someone should get to work on that. Tony, you’re an inventor, right? Might want to get started.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do, Professor, but I’m not going to understand anything as I am.” Hera replied, leaning slightly into the ‘Get Help’ persona, though not much of that was pretend anymore. “Understanding can come after sleep, and enough food to feed an army…and maybe some pumpkin juice, and some chocolate. Is it possible to eat while I’m sleeping? That would be great. Someone should get to work on that. Tony, you’re an inventor, right? Might want to get started.”

Chapter 37

“What on earth could they be arguing about now?”

“They’re going to wake her at this rate.”

“That ship’s sailed already, I’m afraid.” Hera interjected with a groan as she slowly sits up, shocking the others around her. “How long have I been out?”

“Not nearly long enough, Potter, eat this.” Professor Snape answered, handing her a bit of chocolate. She sniffed at it, the memory of ‘Moody’ drugging her too clear in her mind to push away just yet, before nibbling at it. “If you are ready, Fudge would like to question you. Your brother and myself will stay by you, should you need us, along with Madam Pomfrey.”

“What happened to impostor Moody?” Hera asked, just as Minister Fudge came storming into the room. He was followed by Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.

What followed was a careful interrogation. Minister Fudge had seen the 'memory', and believed it’s validity as Hera guessed that he would. Dumbledore was smarter, trying to get her to confess to what really happened, but she’d expected that too. She’d been hoping that he would see the wisdom of her decision, and decide to follow it. That wasn’t what he did, instead choosing to argue with Fudge about Voldemort’s return.

Hera insisted she only saw masks and robes, Pettigrew mumbling fanatically. She always had a terrible reaction to portkeys. It was no wonder Pettigrew got the drop on her using one. It was well known by now what they did to her. In the end, Fudge believed her, but he still went to bat against Dumbledore, who was trying desperately to get Fudge to believe that Voldemort had returned. She’d been trying to avoid that, but it seemed the two were set to go against each other regardless.

“We were trying not to cause a panic.” Fudge admitted, somewhat flustered, when Hera asked him again why they’d not told the public about Pettigrew. “With all the fuss over Sirius Black, well…we didn’t want to cause a panic.”

“And the imposter Moody?” Hera inquired. “What happened to him?”

Cue more arguing. She wishes she hadn’t asked.

...

“Hera!” Cedric shouted, bursting into the infirmary.

“Oh dear.” Hera muttered, flushing in embarrassment.

“What is it with everyone in the Wizarding World looking like they’re movie stars?” She hears Tony asking under his breath. “He looks like he just stepped off a fucking Runway, and I swear your Professor Snape looks like Alan Rickman. Even Professor McGonagall over there looks like Margaret Natalie Smith!”

“I don’t know who those people are, Tony.” She reminded him.

“I’ve decided your godfather looks like Gary Oldman; which is cool as shit, by the way.” Tony continued, seemingly ignoring her comment for the moment. “I’ll work out who Lupin looks like later, but I know I’ve seen him somewhere; Broadway, probably. Did I tell you I tried to hit on Sirius in a bar when I first met him?”

“Tony!” She groaned, and by this point Cedric had made it to them.

“Are you alright? What happened?” Cedric asked, filled with concern. “If I had known the portkey lead to somewhere other than the front of the maze, I would never have tricked you into grabbing the trophy! When I got out of there, people were shouting, and the Aurors were sweeping the place. It’s a madhouse!”

“If you hadn’t tricked me, you’d have just ended up dead in a graveyard, Cedric, so we’re good.” Hera pointed out. “I mean, you saw that guy I brought back, right? That rat man Pettigrew?”

“You tricked her into grabbing the trophy?” Fudge asked, looking like he’d sucked on a lemon.

“Yeah.” Cedric nodded. “Seemed only fair. She did rescue me from that Acromantula just before we saw the trophy, after all. Kind of regretting that now that I know it took her to some graveyard, and that rat man. What did he even want with you anyway, Hera?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Hera sighed quietly. “There’s an investigation. It’s a whole thing.”

“Don’t worry about it, Miss Potter.” Dumbledore insisted genially. “I’ll be making an announcement about it at the Leaving Feast.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t do that, Professor.” Hera grimaced.

“Listen to the girl, Albus! All this Nonsense about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named needs to stop.” Fudge demanded, and then sort of waffled. “He…He can’t be back, Albus…He just can’t…”

“He isn’t!” Hera insisted, exasperated, before taking pity on the man. “Minister, I think the Headmaster just wants you to prepare, because if one man was willing to do what Pettigrew did tonight, there’s bound to be someone else who will try something similar. He isn’t back,…but that doesn’t mean he won’t ever be, that there isn’t magic foul enough to make that possible.”

“What…What are you saying?” Fudge asked, pleadingly. “That you think…you think someone will manage to successfully bring him back?!”

“…Yes.” Hera admitted, shrinking in on herself, hoping that he will see a scared little girl where there wasn’t one. “I might be wrong, Minister, and I hope I am, but…I’ve read the trial transcripts of the Death Eaters that were put away. All of them insisted that their Dark Lord had ways of returning, and even if they are just the ravings of madmen, there are enough of them that it will cause problems if we don’t take the threat they present seriously. It’s said that there’s no safer place than Hogwarts, and yet one of those madmen was able to kidnap me away from here in the hopes they could bring him back. That’s threat enough to listen to, isn’t it?”

“I understand what you’re saying…” Fudge trembled, looking at her with sympathy, before drawing himself up a little. What a hell of a time for the man to grow a spine, Hera can’t help but think. “, but I can’t let Albus go on as he is. He’s going to cause a panic, and I won’t have it!”

and with that, the man stalked out of the room.

“Hera, is what he’s saying true?” Cedric asked quietly. “I know he doesn’t want to believe it, but did You-Know-Who really come back?”

“He did, but I was able to reverse it, so he’s not now.” Hera sighed. “He’ll work out how to come back again sooner or later, and with my luck it will be sooner. That being said, I want you to quietly talk to those you know about updating the wards on their homes, wartime wards if they can manage it. Tell them the portkey incident made you paranoid or something. Get them to talk to their friends and families. If the Girl-Who-Lived can be taken from the safest place in all of Wizarding Britain with a simple portkey, we’ve got problems.”

He nodded in understanding, and left the infirmary.

“Headmaster, I could have talked him into everything you wanted him to do, if you hadn’t been so bloody bullheaded about it.” Hera commented dryly, turning to Dumbledore.

“Miss Potter!” Professor McGonagall scolded softly.

“It needed to be said.” Hera shrugged at her, unrepentant, before turning back to Dumbledore. “You saw that your approach wasn’t working. Mine was, at least until you butted in.”

“You would have had him believe a lie.” Dumbledore answered in stern disapproval.

“I would have coaxed him towards the truth.” Hera corrected, surprising those around her. “By the time I was done, he would have thought all those security measures you’d wanted were his idea, but you ruined any chance of that succeeding by digging your heels in as you did, and not yielding when you should have, and all because you wanted him to acknowledge that you were right and he was wrong. That man is a toddler with a hammer, and a toddler with a hammer can still cause damage. So I hope you’re prepared for whatever stunt he’s going to pull to ‘deal’ with you, because I’m certainly not going to help you.”

...

Dumbledore sighed and nodded, turning to leave, but before he could take more than a few steps, Hera stopped him.

“Where are the bones, Professor?”

“What?” He asked, uncertain, as he turned back around.

“Where are the bones, Professor?” She repeated, unsettling him.

“I have no idea what you-”

“Don’t think you can play me for a fool, Headmaster.” The girl snorted, before glaring at him. “I can not be the only one you have treated this way, to whom you have allowed things to happen. If I dig deep enough, I imagine I’ll find others you’ve used and manipulated in a similar manner over the years. How many others have you tried to manipulate into doing what you wanted? How many others have had home lives like mine that you ignored when they begged you for help? How much of it was for the ‘Greater Good’? I will ask you again. Where are the bones, Professor?”

He paled, as he observed the girl in front of him. Albus considered himself a powerful wizard, knew it to be true. He’d defeated Grindelwald, though it had cost him dearly. He knew that Voldemort feared him even now, and yet…The girl before him now is nothing but a waif of a being; wounded, shaking, injured as she is, and yet…She stares him down with a determination that is absolute, her eyes hinting at the red he’d seen in them previously, and the power he could feel from her gives him pause. The prophecy stated that the one born to defeat the Dark Lord would have powers he knew not, but it said nothing about whether or not they would be for good or evil.

“Either you tell me, or I go looking; and Professor, I should warn you.” Hera declared as her eyes narrowed at him. “If I have to go looking, I will use everything I find to destroy you.”

“Miss Potter!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed in alarm, only to be quelled by the glare sent her way.

“Don’t! Don’t you dare enable him! He has endangered students, most of them your students, and he deserves everything that’s going to happen to him.” Hera warned, before turning her attention back to the Headmaster. “I saw what he became, you know, and I have to wonder just how much of a hand you had in that. Was he like me? Did he also beg to be taken away from people that refused to love him? Did you sacrifice him for your ‘Greater Good’? If I go looking, what will I find, Headmaster? Where are the bones? Are his among them? Tell me, and I will show you mercy. Don’t, and I will slowly destroy everything that you are.”

Albus swallowed nervously, and turned to leave. Her threat was real, he could feel it in the power around her. He knew that she would dismantle everything that he had built if he left her to her own devices, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to admit his own faults. He’d worked too hard to make up for them, that acknowledging them now felt like failure, and that…that he couldn’t accept. Her voice followed after him, sending chills down his spine.

“…So be it…”

Chapter Text

Last time...

Albus swallowed nervously, and turned to leave. Her threat was real, he could feel it in the power around her. He knew that she would dismantle everything that he had built if he left her to her own devices, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to admit his own faults. He’d worked too hard to make up for them, that acknowledging them now felt like failure, and that…that he couldn’t accept. Her voice followed after him, sending chills down his spine.

“…So be it…”

Chapter 38

“Madam Pomfrey, can you and Professor McGonagall give us some privacy?” Potter asked in a tired tone, looking to the two women after Dumbledore had gone, upon seeing Sirius and Remus walking into the room. “I’m afraid my friends are going to burst in at any moment, if Cedric’s arrival wasn’t warning enough, and we need to have words before they see me.”

“You need rest, Miss Potter.” Madam Pomfrey warned her. “You’re acting rather erratically as it is.”

“I know, but if I don’t deal with this now, it’s gonna come back to bite me on the arse later, I just know it.” She reasoned. The woman looked set to push the rest of them out, when Potter relented. “I’ll rest. I swear I will, right after. I promise. You can poke and prod, and make me drink terrible tasting potions to your heart’s content. How ‘bout it?”

“Alright, but they leave right after.” Madam Pomfrey agreed, her mouth set in a grim line, no nonsense.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Potter nodded, and the woman cajoled Professor McGonagall into leaving towards the doors with her.

“Alright, Potter, everyone is gone.” Severus declared. “Now, what is the meaning of this?”

“You all have to promise not to react.” Potter immediately pleads, which suggests nothing good. “Or at least…don’t…don’t get mad at me…”

They all nodded their silent assent, and she began. Horror filled their minds as she went into an in depth explanation of what happened to her while she was gone, how she’d been unable to fight against being tied up, how she’d been forced to participate in a ritual that brought the Dark Lord back. Severus wanted to shout in outrage at the blatant lies she’d told before, but he waited, having agreed to keep his silence till the end. She told of the man’s arrogance, his history, his planning to achieve that moment. Stark snorted when Potter admitted that the first thing she did once free of the ropes was punch Pettigrew square in the face; even Severus knew the loyalty of the Marauders to each other was such that they would have died for Pettigrew had the roles been reversed, something Black and Lupin adamantly agreed on.

“When one of his Death Eaters began talking, I knew…some of them were parents, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t hurt them.” Potter admitted softly.

“Why?” Black demanded, causing her to cringe. “They would have killed you if given half the chance!”

“Siri, stop.” Lupin scolded quietly. “Look.”

Only then did Black seem to realize how uncomfortable he’d made her, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Prongslet, I just don’t get it.”

“I know, it’s just…my friends…I couldn’t forgive myself if I killed their parents, even if it was in self defense, even if they could have tried to kill me first…Their children love them, Padfoot.” Potter tried to explain.

“But not one among them is repentant!” Black insisted. “If it hadn’t been for your mother, Snape wouldn’t have turned against Voldemort either!”

“You leave me out of this, Black.” Severus growled.

“What does he mean by that?” Stark asked, narrowing his eyes at them.

“There is a prophecy, and – laugh all you want, Stark, they hold weight in this world – by that time I had already made my choice.” Severus admitted, waiting till Stark had stopped giggling to continue. “I joined the Death Eaters for one reason; power. I wanted to prove I was better than my drunkard of a father, better than all of them, and I was willing to turn a blind eye to atrocities that are too vile to have names in order to get it. Black is not wrong. Had the Dark Lord gone after Frank and Alice Longbottom, I wouldn’t have so much as batted an eyelash, too entrenched in my choice to wonder or care for redemption.”

“Explains why you’re such a bully to Neville.” Potter murmured. “The prophecy should have been about him, as it constantly mentions a ‘he’ in it. He will have powers the Dark Lord knows not, being a prime example.”

Severus did not speak to acknowledge her assumptions, knowing them to be true, only giving a subtle nod as he continued. “I took it to the Dark Lord, the part of it I heard before being thrown out, who inevitably decided it was regarding Lily and James, those who had thrice defied him as the prophecy stated was a requirement that would lead to the marking of his equal, the one that could vanquish him. I pleaded for her life, for Lily’s life, even knowing he wouldn’t spare the others, because at the time I didn’t care.”

Potter sucked in a breath, having not expected that part, though she must have known it.

“I had forced myself not to think of my first friend for years. She had disapproved of the choices I was making at the time, and I would like to point out that they were atrocious choices. I had refused to heed her warnings, because the promise of power was too sweet to resist. I wanted it too much to care what the consequences were, to care about what those I was associating with were doing to people like her.” He continued. “When he left, I was faced with the dawning realization that I had just bargained for my first friend’s life as if she were some tawdry harlot, and that she would have never forgiven me had she lived but her family had not. So I went to Dumbledore, the only one I knew of with the power to protect them, and I begged. He agreed, and I became a double spy, with the promise that I would watch over their daughter when she came to school. That is what he means.”

“And you freed this man?” Stark asked in quiet astonishment, looking to Potter. “You agreed to apprentice with him, knowing all this?”

“I hadn’t known a lot of that at the time, no, but it was pretty easy to guess a good bit of it after hearing the prophecy for myself in its entirety.” Potter admitted softly. “Before, all I knew was that he was doing a rather passable job at pretending to hate me, but it felt…forced. I know what true hatred feels like, and when I looked at his magic, I saw that at his core he was jaded…His heart just…wasn’t in it, and that was all the reason I needed.”

“I think we’re getting off topic.” Lupin reminded them. “What does this have to do with what happened in the graveyard?”

“Right.” Potter nodded, getting back down to business. “I don’t expect any of them to change much, or right away, but I thought…How many of them are just as tired? How many of them just want to raise their kids in peace? Shouldn’t I give them that chance? How many of them were following along the path of least resistance, because there wasn’t another option anymore? Once you take that mark, he owns you. He’d go after their children next, and they wouldn’t be able to deny him.”

“Alright, alright, Pup, I understand.” Black placated, grudgingly. “What happened after that?”

“You know what it means, that he used my blood as one of the ingredients to bring himself back to life. He made himself my equal, just as he had marked me as his.” Potter stated, looking at Severus now. “His magic is within the scar he gave me. We know this because I felt it when I freed you of the Dark Mark. I felt something similar when Quirrell was teaching, and then there was Riddle’s diary in second year-”

“Riddle’s diary?!” He demanded. “How did you-”

“Not important right now.” She waved him off. “What is important is that they’re pieces of him…his soul, his magic, and I have to wonder…How many pieces did he split himself into? Is that why he looked so…wrong?”

“I think I’ve heard of that magic.” Black noted, looking deep in thought. “Hera, if it’s what I think it is, there is no darker magic than that. I know you say magic is all about intent, and while that is true, understand when I say you have to mean the evil that goes into casting something like this.”

She nodded, but Severus didn’t think she understood, not if that look in Black’s eyes was any indication. Until now, no one had been able to get rid of the Dark Mark, but Hera Potter could. She could call to it, lure it out, demand it leave, and Severus had to wonder if it was because she had a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul within her. If that was true…the only way to get rid of a phylactery like that…was to destroy it, and a living phylactery…such a thing had never been created before…at least, no records had been discovered for such a thing.

A chill settled over him as he realized what this could mean for the girl. Black and Lupin were just barely holding themselves in check, as it seemed they’d realized it too. Stark looked thoughtful, frowning at the implication of her words, and Severus had to wonder if he knew already and was trying to work out how to stop it. Before he would not have said such a thing was possible, but he’d seen Potter do the impossible. It was no longer out of the realm.

“Why do I have a feeling that you had one of your crazy ideas?” Severus asked, narrowing his eyes at the girl, hoping it distracted them all from their dark thoughts. It worked.

“It wasn’t a crazy idea, and it worked!” Potter defended, but he just arched an eyebrow at her. Realizing her error, she sighed in defeat. “I reversed the ritual.”

“Hera, that’s not possible.” Black stated dumbly, blinking like he couldn’t believe it.

Severus glared at him, before explaining. “What he means is that it shouldn’t have been possible. Reversing a ritual is painstakingly time consuming, and even if all the conditions are met, it still might not work.”

“Except that it did.” Potter shrugged. “You all act like things are way more difficult than they really are. Which, okay, rituals would be a pain…if I’d attempted it later. I did this right after it happened. The conditions were exactly the same. Hardly any time had passed at all. The ingredients where all right there. I just reversed the words, and did a bit of admittedly accidental overpowered necromancy to get his father’s permission for what I was attempting, and boom. Done.”

“…overpowered necromancy?” Severus asked, for clarification, unable to believe his ears. “How does one accidentally perform overpowered necromancy exactly?”

“Yeah. I…uh…well, I was desperate, okay? and I put a bit too much into the spell.” Potter confessed, blushing in embarrassment. “Ended up summoning the whole damn graveyard; which was good, because they kept ol’ What’s-his-name busy while I finished the reversal ritual. After that, I leapt up on him, threw us both in the cauldron, and boom. I wake up, his wraithyness has fled into the night, I’m creating a fake memory to fool Fudge, and a group of Death Eater parents are waiting somewhere with Dobby for me to remove their marks. The end. Also, my scar is really itchy. I think the potion mix tried to pull it out too, only it’s too firmly entrenched. So, itchy.”

The men all looked to each other, knowing that was all the confirmation they needed.

“And what happened with the Headmaster just now?” Severus questioned.

“And punching him in the face earlier.” Tony added helpfully.

“I will not apologize for that.” Potter insisted, her earlier anger at the Headmaster returning. “I saw what his choices lead to, the complete disregard he’s exercised when it comes to the lives of his charges. I refuse to let it continue.”

“So…No threats on his life then?” Black asked with a wry smile, though his eyes were guarded.

“No.” She replied, determined. “I want…I want to dismantle the image people have of him, the perfect grandfatherly Leader of the Light. I want to take away everything he’s worked so hard to build, the lie I see every time I look at him, and I want him to know why it’s happening. What he’s done…I’m nothing compared to the generations of children he’s refused to protect with his lack of action…I want him to suffer, but no…I don’t want him dead.”

...

What they did not know was that in a corner of the room, with silencing charms on, Hermione, Ron, and Draco were scrunched underneath the Invisibility Cloak, listening in on every word. They heard Hera talk about the ritual, the offer to free those parents that wished it, the theory about what was in her scar. They saw how the adults reacted to that knowledge, knew that it was far worse than Hera suspected. They heard Snape explain his motivations, and it was a good thing Hermione had thought to cast a nonverbal body bind on Ron in time or else they would have never heard the rest of it. It wasn’t until after everyone had left, and Hera had fallen asleep, that they made their way to an unused classroom.

“That arsehole!” Ron shouted angrily, pacing. “How dare he?!”

“Look, I get that Professor Snape is-” Hermione began, but he cut her off.

“I’m not talking about him, but he’s an arsehole too!” Ron declared, whirling around to face them. “I’m talking about Dumbledore!”

“What are…Weasley, what are you talking about?” Draco demanded, before it hit him. “You can’t possibly mean-”

“That’s exactly what I mean!” the boy snapped in outrage. “Why do you think she threatened him the way she did? They say there isn’t a thing that goes on in this school that Dumbledore doesn’t know about. Now, I hadn’t wanted to believe the whole thing with Quirrellmort was a trap like she said, but if it was it all makes so much sense. How could Quirrell have a wraith hidden on the back of his head all year, and Dumbledore not know about it, unless he set him up and Hera too? Give her a chance, see what she can do, let her face the man who went after her parents. You can’t tell me he didn’t know what was in her scar! You can’t tell me he didn’t know what he was sentencing her to with those Dursleys!”

“It gets worse.” Draco stated quietly. “If I’m right, Black was talking about a Horcrux. I read about it in the Malfoy family library. It’s a vile piece of magic, committing murder to charge an object to contain a piece of your soul.”

“Why would you have that in your library, or even read that?” Hermione asked, askance.

“It’s knowledge.” Draco shrugged, like it explained anything. “And it’s because of that knowledge that we even know what this is, Granger. How to deal with it…Well, that’s another story.”

She begrudgingly acquiesced.

“It was used as a way to hopefully insure immortality by Harpo the Foul, but Potter spoke as if the Dark Git had made more than one, and that’s…” Draco continued. “The books didn’t say what it would do to a person if they did that, but it makes sense that he would lose more of his humanity the more of his soul he split away.”

“Does it talk about how to get rid of them?” Ron asked, bracing himself almost.

“Fiendfire or Basalisk Venom should do it, but it doesn’t talk about what to do for a living horcrux.” Draco replied. Hermione went to object, even as Ron became stalk still, and Draco halted her. “She said there was a piece of his magic, his soul, within her scar. She knows what that feels like, where she helped Uncle Severus, and dealt with Quirrell during First Year. Do either of you know what she meant by the diary?”

“No, but…Just before Second Year, Hera snuck in and placed a diary in Ginny’s cauldron.” Ron answered slowly, thinking back. “I didn’t think much of it because she gave one to Hermione and herself too, but Ginny swears she could see a small black book in Hera’s arms as she left.”

“Assuming that’s the diary, Hera probably got rid of it somehow.” Draco theorized. “She has enough power to cast and control Fiendfyre, but I don’t know if she’s ever attempted it. However, Father has been exceedingly happy about some sort of venture the two of them decided to embark on after he helped Sirius Black, something about exotic rare creature parts. She can speak to snakes and dragons; a basilisk wouldn’t be too far out of the realm.”

“You think Hera has a pet basilisk hidden somewhere?” Ron asked incredulously.

“Well, she was gone a lot in Second Year.” Hermione mused. “You said even Fred and George couldn’t keep track of her for long. If she had found the Chamber of Secrets, and Salazar’s familiar, would she have told us?”

“I dunno.” Ron admitted with a sigh. “A secret place no one knows how to get into? Somewhere safe and protected? I wouldn’t have.”

“It’s the living horcrux, Hera herself, that’s going to be the problem to solve.” Draco reminded them, pulling them up short with his words. “There was nothing in the books about a living horcrux. I don’t think it has ever been done before, or even if he meant to do it at all. If his soul latched onto her after the killing curse rebounded?…”

“What aren’t you saying, Draco?” Hermione asked, pointedly, letting him know that she knew he’d been stalling.

“I don’t know for certain, but…I think…” He tried, taking a bracing breath. “In order to get rid of the horcrux in a living vessel…you’d have to kill the vessel.”

It was as if he’d cut the strings of a puppet, the way Ron crumpled to the ground. He’s screaming, crying, raging against it all. It’s a good thing Draco had thought to cast another noise cancellation charm to make sure they weren’t overheard when they’d entered the classroom. Hermione’s burst into tears, partly in shock, and partly already trying to work out how to save her friend. They’re grieving as if their friend has already died, and something cracks within him.

He’d heard her after the second task. Her first friends, her first friends, how could she choose? He remembered the shock at hearing her threaten anyone and everyone who would ever dare to hurt them, and wishing with all his might that he had someone that was that fiercely loyal to him. He thought back to that moment on the train, when he’d insulted them, and still stuck his hand out anyway. And she’d really been about to accept it, if only after wanting him to know she didn’t appreciate the insults?

She’d born his insults about her muggle family, about her mother, and anything else he could think of over the last few years. She’d shown him what power was, taunting him in that dueling arena with a king cobra in her hand, using his own magic against him. She’d tutored him in charms with no one the wiser, and then horded the dark chocolate his mother had discretely sent as thanks like it was a dragon’s treasure. She’d taken the attack from the hippogriff without a thought. She’d pantomimed Seeker moves with him as they excitedly talked about Quidditch at the World Cup. She’d goofed off with them in the Common Room, played poker with a wicked smirk, daring his godfather to eat a bean, revealing that she should have always been Slytherin.

Draco realizes with mortification that he’s crying too, right before Ronald reaches out and pulls him down into the floor with him. Hermione is wrapping her arms around him, and Ronald is wrapping his arms around them both. When had these people become his friends? When had Hera become his friend? What were they going to do?!

“We can’t tell her, and if she knows, we can’t tell her we know.” Ron insisted, still crying when they all let go. “She’ll either throw herself into some crazy stunt to end it all just to see if she comes out the other side roses, or she’ll…just…give up. I can’t…I can’t face either of those.”

“She’s bound to figure it out.” Hermione scolded, furiously wiping at her own tears now. “Our acting skills are terrible, and she knows us too well.”

“Then we learn everything we can.” Draco proposed. “I can search the library again for a way out for her that doesn’t involve dying. Maybe there’s a way to extract the horcrux without killing her. There’s got to be something. Maybe Sirius will let me have a look at the Black family library. There’s no way they don’t know now, not with how they were looking at each other in there.”

“I can start planning for the trip we’ll inevitably have to take to hunt these things down.” Hermione agreed. “Survival skills, obscure magics, protective wards, maps; The works. there’s got to be a criteria for what he wanted when he made those things.”

“I’ll…I’ll pull us through.” Ron promised. “I can strategize, guess people’s behaviours, plan for what they’ll do, like chess. Between what you’re doing, and what Draco’s doing…As long as you two tell me everything, I can pull us through.”

Draco is furiously trying to wipe away his own tears, still slightly embarrassed that he’s crying in front of them, just grumbles. “You’d better, Weasley. Can’t exactly end a generational blood feud with a broken promise, now can we.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

Draco is furiously trying to wipe away his own tears, still slightly embarrassed that he’s crying in front of them, just grumbles. “You’d better, Weasley. Can’t exactly end a blood feud with a broken promise, now can we.”

Chapter 39

Upon entering the Potions Master’s office, Tony Stark took to walking around the room, rapidly inspecting everything as was his nervous habit. He never stayed in one place for longer than a few seconds, intent on seeing as much as he could as quickly as possible. It hadn’t taken a genius to notice the looks the men gave each other when Hera had told them what had happened, that there was something they weren’t telling him yet. He thought he’d handled everything well so far, but he couldn’t understand how Hera was taking everything that had been thrown at her as well as she was, and wondered just how much the world was going to throw at her before it was enough. When the other men sat around a desk, and Snape was filling tumblers with a drink he hoped was alcoholic, Tony joined them.

“Okay, what don’t I know yet?” Tony asked, after accepting the glass Snape set out for him. “You three got real shifty there at the end. What’d he do to her?”

“Do you know what a phylactery is?” Snape asked. Tony nodded, not yet sure what this had to do with anything; but having done a lot of reading over a wide range of things, he knew what a phylactery was. “Wizards used to use them in an effort to gain immortality. These attempts were largely unsuccessful, because in their efforts to make themselves invincible, they actually ended up making themselves even more vulnerable. Do you understand? If someone could find a wizard’s phylactery, they could do anything from controlling them to killing them.”

“A Horcrux is based on that idea, but twisted in an effort to negate the vulnerability by adding a level of cruelty in its creation.” Sirius picked up the explanation. “You have to murder someone with the utmost malice, thereby splitting your own soul, and then placing that severed piece within a vessel. In being created this way, the vessel can defend itself, something a normal phylactery couldn’t do. Something done to kill a person in defense of yourself or others just wouldn’t be enough, you understand.”

“Hera has a piece of his soul in her scar from the night her parents were killed.” Tony realized, now seeing what they were saying. “What does this mean for her?”

“While Potter has it, she can use it against him; cut off his support, leave him no ground, no quarter in which to escape. I’m convinced she removed my Dark Mark with its aid.” Snape answered grimly. “However, her words before are worrisome. The potion she was submerged in could not remove it, though it tore him from his newly constructed body. I fear an easy extraction will not be the case.”

“The vessel of a Horcrux is always an inanimate object. To my knowledge, it has never been done to a living being, and it is clear that he didn’t mean to create the one she has in her scar.” Sirius continued to explain. “It is possible to get rid of them as it is with their counterparts, but all efforts end up with the object itself being destroyed, because the object itself will use any means of defense that it can.”

“It’ll kill her.” Lupin concluded.

“It could,” Snape confirmed, before placing a sheet of paper before the men. “but I believe this will pull things in her favor.”

“Are you sure about this, Snape, sharing this?” Sirius asked carefully. “Hera might not want them to know, might not want me to know. I haven’t even told Remus.”

“You two are her father’s closest friends. You would have raised her had things not been interfered with, I imagine, and Lupin would have no doubt been a constant visitor. Stark is her brother. I’m sure.” Snape insisted, pushing the paper further towards them.

Tony picked it up, leaning over slightly so he and Lupin could share line of sight with it.

“What does this word mean?” He asked, looking at it. “godborn? Is it like Muggleborn?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes, but also no.” Lupin murmured. “I never thought I’d see the day…Our little prongslet is a godborn.”

“I know he might have thought highly of himself, but my father wasn’t a god.” Tony objected.

“It doesn’t quite work like that.” Sirius explained wryly, before taking on a more solemn tone once more. “Barring true divinity, I suppose, the term god is like a power level; which would explain part of the reason why Crouch Jr was able to trick the Goblet into accepting her. She has the power levels needed to be considered worthy by the Goblet of Fire; more than.”

“This isn’t something that’s hereditary.” Lupin interjected. “It’s…Merlin, I still can’t believe it.”

“How familiar are you with mythology?” Snape asked him.

“Secretly one of my favorite subjects.” Tony admitted, though his father had never approved. “Why?”

“You’ve heard of the Fates then. Imagine that they’re real, for a moment, that they do what the legends say they do; watch the weave of Fate.” Snape proposed.

“Okay, I can follow that.”

“Now, there are things that interfere with fate, but not to a degree that it would destroy the weave or be in danger of doing so, and so the Fates do not intervene. The point is that they can and have had to step in, to either stop an interference from destroying the weave, or met out punishment for the interference done.” Snape continued. “They can send someone either forwards or backwards in time to either learn their lesson, or perform some task. Hera appears to be one such individual. If that’s truly the case, she might stand a chance. She’s already beat the killing curse. It’s possible she’ll survive whatever it is that kills the horcrux she carries.”

“That’s an awful big risk to take, Snape.” Sirius objected. “Are you willing to bank on that?”

“We have no choice-”

“Guys, I think I know who she used to be.” Tony realized, as all the puzzle piece fit together in his mind so fast he wondered how he’d never seen it before now. “If I’m right, she’s got more than just a chance at beating this.”

“Alright then, who do you think she was?” Snape drawled. “Because I’ve been wracking my brain for months, and I’ve got no bloody idea.”

Tony couldn’t help the smirk that flitted across his face as he sat back in his chair, and dropped the bomb.

“Loki.”

...

“How do you figure that?” Sirius asked, too shocked to do much of anything else.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s right.” Snape groaned, slumping back into his own chair. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. It all fits. She’s the epitome of a frost giant runt. There’s nothing in James’ background that covers that, and as far as Lily knew, her parents and grand parents were all non magical. Even if she’d been from a squib line, to produce a full blooded frost giant runt is…genetically improbable at best. There’s been rumours that Potter can read or speak in every language she comes into contact with. Her wandless nonverbal magic is unparalleled. Mischief and Chaos follow her wherever she goes, and she can talk herself into trouble as well as out of it with an ease I haven’t seen since our school days. She’s friends with the Weasley Twins and encourages their pranks. If she only spoke to snakes, I would attribute her parseltongue ability to transference from the Dark Lord, but she can speak to snakes and dragons. Loki was known as the father of all serpents for his ability to converse with any he came across.”

“No, Sirius has a point.” Lupin countered. “Of the four of us, Tony, you have the least magical knowledge. How did you guess who she could have been so quickly?”

“Oh, I was stopped by the three youngest Weasley boys for a ‘we want to make sure you’ll be a good big brother’ meeting, where they proceeded to tell me everything she’s done, but in far greater detail than she had.” Tony explained sheepishly. “One of the pranks she pulled, the one where it turned people into mimes, she told the twins she’d dreamt it up, explaining that it worked on ‘Sif’ easy enough. Also, when she got back earlier, she said she needed to eat enough food to feed three Volstaggs. Now, I might not have magic, but even I would recognize those names. Volstagg is one of the Warriors Three, that fights alongside Lady Sif, who all accompany Thor god of Thunder and Lightning. I think he’s supposed to be a fertility god too, now that I think about it, but that’s beside the point. None of those people have a penchant for mischief like Hera,…but Loki does.”

“Nimue’s knickers.” Sirius swore. “Think she knows?”

“If she doesn’t, she will.” Snape revealed. “Someone would rather figure out how to fling their soul through the aether, across time and space, to find the answers she seeks, rather than ask me to see this little piece of paper. Something about ‘Don’t Ask Questions’.”

“Back to the point of the conversation. Do you think this will be enough to pull her through whatever it is she’s going to have to do to get rid of the tag along in her forehead?” Tony inquired. “Because if not, we need to start thinking options. She’s going to have to plan for a war at some point, when that jackass comes back. I’d rather she be as armed as she can be either way. Don’t you?”

The Slytherin Common Room was silent as she entered. She’d finally managed to talk her way out of the hospital wing, and it was the eve before they were to leave for home. She’d even managed to miss the leaving feast, but not a one of them moved. She fidgeted, unsure what they were waiting for. Everyone, especially the oldest of the pure blood families, stood as if waiting for her to say something. She didn’t know what she could possibly say.

“They’re waiting for you to tell them what really happened, Potter.” Snape stated quietly. “Dumbledore did tell the school his best guess, since you wouldn’t tell him the truth, but they’d rather hear it from you.”

Both Hermione and Neville nodded in encouragement, the twins not far behind, with Draco and a few others looking on with nervousness.

“But I…” Hera objected, filled with uncertainty. “…I’m just a kid.”

“This is the price of doing something when the leadership fails you.” Professor Snape stated, gesturing to the students who now looked to her. “You become the leadership others seek.”

“Really should have thought of that beforehand, I suppose.” Hera sighs, feeling a little green.

“Bit late for second thoughts now, Potter.” Draco teased, still nervous.

She could do this…She could do this…She could do this, right?

“He was able to return, but…well…You know me, and my crazy ideas. One bout of accidentally overpowered necromancy and a ritual reversal later, and the cauldron he’d remade himself in exploded with the two of us in it.” She stated nervously, causing a snort or two among those who knew her best. “He talked a lot, before my crazy idea. One of the things I learned is that his real name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. His father was actually a muggle named Tom Riddle, that his mother was Merope Gaunt daughter of Marvolo Gaunt, which would make him the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin. She’d actually drugged his father with a love potion for years, so as you can imagine the man was more than a little resentful when he eventually came out of it after she stopped. He abandoned his wife and son, and Tom Marvolo Riddle grew up in the orphanage his mother died giving birth to him in.”

“You learned all this while you were off being kidnapped by the Dark Lord?” Draco asked, incredulously.

“He really talked a lot. Guess he missed having vocal cords. Plus, captive audience. I was literally tied to his father’s gravestone.” Hera shrugged. “That’s not even the worst of it. Here, I’ll show you.”

She conjured up an image of him in the middle of the common room, earning gasps from some of the upper years.

“It’s just an illusion of him, but I mean, really. Look at him. Works out how to bring himself back from the wraith that he’d been for the last ten years, no small feat that, and he can’t even construct a body with a proper nose on it.” She insisted, pointing to where the nose should have been. “I’m convinced it’s because I stole it as a baby.”

Pansy peered at the image, and then asked. “Where are his eyebrows?…or his hair?”

“Dunno, but it’s not the only thing that was missing on him.” Hera casually commented. “I saw what he looked like without robes. Pretty sure he went with the Ken doll option.”

Hermione snorted, trying to hold it in, as she was one of the few in the room who knew what a Ken doll was.

“You can’t…You can’t be…really?” Hermione chortled, blushing all the while. “I’m never going to get that image out of my head now. You’re a terrible person, Hera.”

“Just doing my part.” Hera replied with a grin.

“What does Ken doll option mean?” Cassius Warrington, a boy she’d never really spoken to much, asked.

Hera and Hermione started giggling, and Professor Snape looked distinctly pale…more so than usual, anyway.

“It means he didn’t have…have a…” Hermione tried to explain, making a vague hand gesture towards Cassius, and instantly the entirety of Slytherin House was chortling at the fact that for the brief time Lord Voldemort had been a corporeal being, he hadn’t been able to construct himself a dick.

“How did he think he was going to use the loo?” Neville asked, as soon as he managed to take a proper breath, sending everyone into further fits of giggling.

Hera dispelled the image, and asked. “In all seriousness, how was that honouring the Old Ways?”

It went suddenly silent again, as no one had any answers for her.

“He didn’t just kill muggles and muggleborn. He went after anyone who opposed him, because they dared to oppose him at all. Entire bloodlines were wiped out. All those traditions…that culture…Gone.” Hera continued. “How is that preserving the Old Ways?”

“What do you want us to do?” Theo asked, impatiently.

“When you go home, I want you to ask your parents one thing.” Hera admitted. “There is an outdated Muggles Studies class, which really needs fixing, but we’ll get to that later. Why is there no corresponding Wizarding Culture class? You taught me, taught Hermione. Why can’t it be taught to everyone else?”

“Think it will work, that speech of yours?” Hermione wondered, as soon as the two were piled into their train car.

“I have no idea. I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” Hera groaned, dramatically flopping across the seat, resting her head on Hermione’s lap. “Distract me. How are you and Victor?”

“He invited my family to visit his in Bulgaria.” Hermione announced happily. “I think he really likes me.”

“Of course, he really likes you.” Ron snorted, having followed them in, plopping down on the opposite seat. “You don’t care that he’s famous, don’t care for Quidditch other than to be supportive of your friends, and are genuinely interested in him as a person. He’s lucky to have you. Has he had the shovel talk yet?”

“Already taken care of.” Hera offers with a wicked grin from her resting place. “I offered to break his legs.”

“Nice.” Ron commented, approvingly. “Skeeter’s bound to be all over that.”

“Skeeter isn’t going to be doing any writing any time soon.” Hermione remarked primly, causing Hera to bolt up and face her properly.

“You figured it out.” Hera accused happily. “What was it? How’d she do it?”

Hermione nodded, and brought out a small glass jar with a very fat and rather ugly looking beetle inside. “Meet Rita Skeeter, illegal animagus. She won’t be printing much of anything for a while, till she’s learned her lesson about printing lies.”

“You’re much nicer than me.” Ron commented, peering more closely at the bug. “I don’t think I’d ever let her out of there, ugly beetle that she is.”

“Are we blackmailing someone?” Fred asked as he and George walk in.

“Hermione, Hermione, and here I thought we knew you.” George added, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, boys, since you’re here, I figure I should let you know we have Gringotts business later. I’ll send a note when I know the time of the appointment.” Hera interjected. “I figured we should get this done while your mum’s a mime.”

“Is she still like that?” Ron asked, snickering.

“She hasn’t apologized to Hermione yet, so I’d imagine so.” Hera shrugged. “It might wear off on it’s own, but I doubt it.”

“Did I hear that right? Did you turn Weasley’s mother into a mime?” Draco asked, strolling in and hip checking Fred so he can have room to sit down. “Does Uncle Sev know?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Malfoy. It was complete coincidence that a plague of mimes struck Europe around the same time people started insulting Hermione. I didn’t have to write a paper that will be published with proper sources or anything.” Hera insisted, unable to hold the innocent look long. “Where’s Blaise and Theo?”

“They’re sitting with Crabbe and Goyle for now. You gave them quite a lot to think about, you know.” Draco replied nonchalantly. “I don’t know what Father’s going to do, but I suspect I’ll hear the details soon enough.”

“Back to the part where we have Gringotts business with you, Hera.” George reminded them.

“Oh, right. I’m investing in your joke shop.” Hera announced. “Will a thousand galleons be enough? I got a windfall recently, as apparently risking my life is becoming lucrative, and I’d like to invest in something good with it.”

“Wait, you’re starting a joke shop? Why didn’t you say so sooner?” Draco asked, actually looking affronted. “I’m in. Also, I’ll be back. Pretty sure Blaise will want in on this, Pansy too. Not sure about Daphne, but I’ll ask.”

He was gone before they could think to stop him.

“Hera, you’re mental.” Fred declared in clear disbelief.

“Probably.” Hera acknowledged. “You were never bound for the Ministry; and once your mum gets over her own stubbornness, she’ll realize that. You’re pranksters. You like to make people laugh; sometimes at themselves, sometimes at others, and sometimes at nothing at all. Something tells me we’ll need that far more than we ever have before too long. Besides, I don’t think the Ministry would be left standing for longer than a week if you two started working there.”

“But, Hera…” George objected weakly.

“You’ll need a good solid foundation. I assume you have a business plan, and if not then you should really work on one. You’ll need testers for your products, though I would recommend staying away from the First Years for reasons, and I would recommend becoming licensed Healers, just to make sure you can fix anything that messes up later.” Hera continued. “Plan to go global, boys. I know you can do it.”

“But, Hera…” Fred now.

“It’s either you take my investment, or I chuck this money out the window right now.” Hera replied with a shrug, holding up the bag. “You know me. I have no concept of money. I’ll do it, and not think twice about it.”

Ron looked like he was gonna have a stroke.

“I’m back!” Draco announced bursting into the compartment with Neville, Blaise, and Pansy. “What’s the buy in? Also, why is Potter holding a bag near the window like she’s going to throw it out? Please tell me that’s not the prize money.”

“You might as well accept it.” Hermione pointed out, looking over to them. “Think of how many canary creams that is.”

Fred and George looked like they didn’t know whether to cry or faint, which would sort of explain why the two of them let out what sounded like a sob before promptly passing out.

Chapter Text

Last time...

“You might as well accept it.” Hermione pointed out, looking over to them. “Think of how many canary creams that is.”

Fred and George looked like they didn’t know whether to cry or faint, which would sort of explain why the two of them let out what sounded like a sob before promptly passing out.

Chapter 40

Neville had been thinking about this for most of this last term, but he hadn’t wanted to chance it while Hera was dealing with everything. Now? Now, he could ask, if he wanted. His Gran wasn’t here to cow him. He could be brave when he wanted. He’d proven that much already. He’d watched Hera have to be brave in both big and small ways all year. If he didn’t get a move on though, Hera was going to leave before he had the chance.

“Hera, wait…Can I talk to you…alone?” He asked, eyeing Mr. Stark nervously for a fraction of a second, before looking back to her. “Please? It’s important.”

“Of course, Nev.” Hera agreed, seeing how nervous he was.

“I’ll just be over here.” Mr. Stark gestured, and then left.

“You know about my parents, how they were tortured out of their minds?” Neville reminded her. “They’ve been in St. Mungo’s all this time, and they’re not getting any better. They’ve tried everything.”

“What are you asking, Nev?” Hera asked, and then it dawned on her what he could want. “Neville, the mind is a complex organ. I’ve never done something like that before. What if I mess it up? What if I kill them?”

“The best mind healers in the world haven’t been able to help them.” Neville tried again. “Why not give sheer dumb luck a shot?”

Hera snorted at that, remembering Professor McGonagall’s description of her antics.

“They’re worse than dead already.” Neville continued, his voice low. “If you can give me back even just a little bit of who they were…They may never be able to take care of me, but I could get to know them, you know? And if you can’t help them, if they die, well then…at least they wouldn’t be suffering anymore.”

She looked at him, as if trying to parse out how dedicated he was to this plan, before nodding. “Alright, Neville, I’ll do it. I’ll give it a try, under one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You let me have a crack at your Gran.”

“Not that.” Neville backtracked. “Anything but that.”

“Oh, look, there she is now.” Hera continued to deadpan, as if she had not heard him, and Neville had the distinct impression that Hera had thought of that stipulation as soon as she’d seen the woman.

“Don’t kill her, Hera. I need somewhere to live.” Neville pleaded, following after her. “It’s not so bad now. Besides, I like my Gran…mostly. She’s not so bad, really.”

“I’m not going to kill her.” Hera denied, as she made her way through the crowd. Her denial did nothing to alleviate Neville of his worries. “If I did that, you’d end up as a ward of the Ministry, or worse, with Great Uncle Algae, and I would kill him.”

They were nearing his Gran now, and Neville clammed up for fear that she would hear what they had been talking about. The woman looked like she’d murdered the vulture on her hat most days, and he couldn’t quite get over his fear of it or her in general. As she stared them down, though Hera cheerfully forged on, Neville had the feeling that his gran actually hated Hera. Her glare had become something filled with rage, before being quickly smothered with the general disdain she seemed to hold for most everyone. She didn’t put much stock in Skeeter’s writings, so he couldn’t think of what she’d hate Hera for.

“Neville, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” The woman demanded quietly.

“G-Gran, t-this is H-Hera P-Potter. Hera, this i-is m-my Gran.” Neville acquiesced, hating that the stuttering was back around her.

“What did I say about stuttering?” She hissed, before giving Hera her full attention. “It’s nice to meet you, Lady Potter.”

“Pity that I can’t say the same about you, Dowager Longbottom.” Hera replied, pinning her with a look. You could have heard a pin drop in that train station.

“What would you know about-”

“I know everything I need to know about you.” Hera hissed, cutting her off, and damn if Hera wasn’t scarier than his Gran right now. Luna was right, being defended was nice. “You’re the foul woman who let her own family hold her grandson out of a second story balcony in the hopes that they could squeeze just a little bit of magic out of him. You’re the woman who belittles her own grandson by comparing him to his father, and then saying how he never would have been such a disappointment. You’re the woman who refuses to buy Neville his own wand, insisting he shouldn’t be so ungrateful, should be honoured, to wield his father’s wand; Never mind that the man isn’t technically dead, or that a wand works best when it chooses its owner. You’re the woman who thought getting Neville a bloody toad would make him forget the years of having to dodge crazy family members trying to trip him into magic so he’d be useful.

How many times did he nearly die because some well meaning family member was trying to surprise him into bouts of accidental magic, instead of letting it flow naturally? How many injuries did he get trying to fend off relatives that were just trying to ‘help’? Do you know what you could have done to him? How easily you could have damaged his magical core, or turned him into an obscurus? What if he hadn’t bounced when he fell? What if he’d died? Better dead than a squib, is that it?!”

She finally seemed to come back to herself. Both Neville and his Gran are stunned by how voracious Hera was in her defense of him. He’d known Hera had issues with his Gran. She saw Gran’s treatment of him as child abuse, and where he didn’t quite see it, he wasn’t about to tell her that either. The look in her eyes, haunted as it was, told him all he needed to know. She knew what she was talking about, even if it wasn’t quite was he was experiencing.

“Sorry I got carried away a bit, Nev.” Hera says quietly, looking a little embarrassed now. “Let me know a time later to see what’s been done so far, yeah? I’ll need to look at that before I attempt anything, and that’s a lot of information.”

“Sure thing, Hera, and…thanks. It means a lot that you’d want to stand up for me like that.” Neville replies back, and the fact that his stutter is gone instantly calls to his Gran’s attention. He hadn’t had the stutter when talking with Hera, but he had one with her.

“You’re my friend, Neville. Of course, I’d stand up for you.” Hera insisted, trying not to catch anyone’s eye now. “See you later.”

When she was gone, he turned back to his gran.

“She’s certainly something, isn’t she?” His Gran mused, watching Hera leave.

“She was one of the first people to really see me as someone other than Frank’s son.” Neville stated bluntly, keeping his voice calm, but he could see how much the comment cut her after what Hera had said. “I think…I think we should sit down, and have a real conversation, maybe our first one ever, don’t you?”

...

“You okay, Hera?” Tony asked, looking down at the girl. She looked so embarrassed, but still angry in defense of that boy. “Is that your boyfriend or something? Do I have to go over there and have the talk with him?”

“What?” She choked out, coming back to herself. “Neville’s my friend, but he’s not…No, just no…He’s the other possibility, the other kid Moldywarts could have chosen. Some time after the man disappeared, his followers went looking for him, tortured Neville’s parents to insanity, thinking that they knew something…They didn’t. He’s been raised by his Gran this whole time, visiting parents who don’t know him, and dodging family members trying to scare him into bouts of accidental magic. I just…I wanted them to see him. You know?”

“You into girls? Boys? Both? Do you care? Are you not interested in anyone, or is it a wait and see sort of deal?” Tony asked, now curious for some odd reason. “It’s cool, whatever, but I figured best to get the awkward conversations out of the way while we can.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had the time to really think about it, Tony.” Hera sighed, looking annoyed and embarrassed in equal measure now, so that was an improvement. “When I was with the Dursleys, I didn’t dare even try to make friends, let alone have a crush on someone. They would have bullied them too, so it was best not to think about it at all. When I started going to school, Snort-a-Wart started trying to kill me, and it’s not like anyone has really caught my attention. Can I wait until after he’s dead to think about it?”

“You really want to put your life on hold that long?” Tony countered, wondering if he should tell her what he knows. “That might take a while.”

“Point. Okay…” She looks up, seeming to think about it, before he saw her eyes light up with a hint of mischief. “I like…Quidditch players.”

Tony snorts. “Really? Magical Athletes do it for you?”

“It’s their hands, you see.” Hera replies cheekily. “Do you realize how artful a quidditch player’s hands have to be? You know; rough hands, firm grip, and all that.”

“Okay, I know enough! I know enough!” Tony insisted in mock alarm, sticking his fingers in his ear, running around halfheartedly. “Lalalalalala!”

“Oh, come on, Tony. You said you wanted to know.” Hera teased. “How am I supposed to come to you with questions about older men, and what goes where, if you’ve got your pinkies in your ears?”

Tony stopped short, unable to believe his ears. “Older…what goes…That’s it, you’re being locked in a tower or something!”

“They really used to do that, you know.” She snickered at him. “Also, not that I want to, but think about this in a few years…If I can’t sleep with anything that moves, why can you?”

“Because I’m a slut, and you’re supposed to be better than me, that’s why.” Tony declared, before realizing what he’d just said. “I mean…”

“It’s okay, Tony, it’s better that you know what you are than to be in denial about it.” Hera replied sagely, patting his shoulder. “Knowing is half the battle.”

“Brat.” He chuckled, and then changed the subject. “How do you feel about going to the U.S. with me?”

“Does it have to be right away?” Hera asked, a bit hesitant. “I have to do some shopping on this side of things, and it would help if we went to the Ministry too. They could tell me where the Wizarding things are in whatever part of the U.S. we go to, and I just know they’re going to cause problems at some point. I promised Fred and George that I’d invest in their joke shop, and Neville that I would look at his parents minds for him, and there’s a small group of parents that want help with tattoo removal. I sort of…planned for things as if you would just be dropping me off at the Dursleys, even though you said you wouldn’t, because I’m just so used to having to run away from there just to do things like shop or go to school. Merlin, that sounds awful now that I say it out loud like that.”

“I was wondering, because I know you’re going to have to touch base with your Potions Professor where he’s your Master.” Tony admitted, but the word left a funny taste in his mouth, and he couldn’t help himself. “Is it weird that they still do Master Apprentice thing, or is that normal?”

“If you want to be considered a Master of the subject, an expert, then you have to apprentice with someone. I suppose you could consider it like getting your Masters Degree, though more focused. Not everyone goes that route though. Most don’t consider it necessary, but I know Hermione is talking with a few professors about Mastery options. Professor Snape is a Master in multiple subjects, so she’ll probably talk to him at some point too. He already holds her to a higher standard than everyone else.” Hera explained, then looked over at him slyly. “Why?”

“No reason!” Tony squeaked, sensing things were about to get into uncomfortable territories he wasn’t ready for yet. “What do you want for dinner? Italian? Chinese? Do you have a favorite?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had anything than what the Dursleys considered normal food, and Hogwarts doesn’t exactly have a wide variation.” Hera admitted after some thought. “When I started shopping for my own food, I didn’t really know what to get, so I just got the same things as before. Recently, I got to experience French and Bulgarian cuisines. How much more am I missing out on?”

“So much, Kid, you have no idea.” Tony insisted, knowing exactly what they were going to do now.

“What am I looking at?” Draco asked, surveying the scene before him.

His mother had come to get him from the station alone, something that had not happened before. Her eyes had held a secret humour in them that he didn’t understand, and now that he was home he was even more confused. There were House Elves here in the Manor that he did not recognize. Had they acquired new help while he was away? Draco wracked his brain for some sort of clue, but then he realized there was one House Elf that looked like it had his father’s eye colour, and he lost it.

“I see even my own son finds humour in my situation then.” The House Elf in question haughtily sniffed. “I do not see what is being so funny.”

“Really? You can’t see it?” Draco wheezed through his laughter. “Personally, I think this is hilarious! How long have you been like this?”

“Almost immediately after he got home.” His mother answered, when it was clear his father would not be, amusement ringing in her voice. “Perhaps your friend would be amendable to turning him back?”

“She’s not left for the states yet, so maybe.” Draco replied, agreeing that it was probably for the best, though this was amusing. “I think the place Stark is staying in has a Floo.”

...

“Tony, I think we’re going to have to go to the Ministry sooner rather than later!” Hera called out, before going back to staring into her trunk.

She’d opened it to sort out the new clothes Tony had insisted on buying her in muggle London. What she was faced with was a somehow shrunken down Jör, snoozing in her trunk. She hadn’t even known basilisks could shrink like this. Hadn’t he been Salazar’s familiar? A protector of the school? She had thought that meant he couldn’t leave it, but here he was in her trunk, cuddling the warding stones she’d been working on. To be fair, they did have a certain heat to them.

“What are you doing in there?” Hera hissed, and not just because she was speaking parseltongue. “How did you even get in there?”

~I can’t believe you even have to ask those questions~ Jör replied lazily, sliding out of the trunk. ~It’s like you don’t even know me~

“Well, I didn’t know you could do this!” Hera insisted, waving her hand at him. “I thought you were a protector of Hogwarts. What are you doing in my trunk?”

~You didn’t visit me~ Jör replied, petulantly, as he made his way around her waist and wrapping himself around it and her shoulders. ~Your house elves brought me food, and relayed news of what was happening to you, but you did not visit me. I found it unacceptable~

“There was a spy about Hogwarts. I didn’t want her to know about you.” Hera argued. “I was trying to keep you safe. If she had escaped, what then? A team of wizards would have forced me to open the Chamber, and then you’d be dead via chicken. Is that how you want to go?”

~I am not so easily killed that a cock’s crow could do me in, Little Speaker~ Jör scolded, now resting his head against her neck.

“I didn’t know that either.” Hera replied, pouting. “Now what are we going to do?”

~You are mine, Little Speaker. I will go where you go from now on. The Chamber is simply my nest while you are at school~

Well that was certainly news.

“Have you talked to Hedwig about another Familiar?” Tony asked, having watched the conversation from the door for the last little bit.

“Uh…” Hera fumbled, feeling a bit caught out. What was it other kids said in this type of situation? “He followed me home, can I keep him?”

“You’re ridiculous, Kid. How are you even holding all that? He has to weigh a ton.” Tony chortled, not acknowledging her question. “Also, why am I not dead?”

“What?” Hera asked dumbly.

“That’s a basilisk, right? XXXXX dangerous creature, known wizard killer, can not be domesticated, wrapped around you like a wet spaghetti noodle, and looking strangely like he’s sulking.” Tony noted, gesturing towards her. “I read about them in this book by Newt Scamander, who I think secretly wanted one, because he was really particular with the details of how to breed them. Males have that scarlet feather on their head, but the book said they were green. This one is silver though.”

~I like this one too. I think I shall keep you both~ Jör commented, snuggling into her neck.

“He likes you too. Says he’ll keep us both.” Hera relayed.

“Nice to be liked by the thing that can potentially kill and eat me.” Tony remarked wryly, causing Jör to hiss in laughter. “What’s his name?”

~I am Jörmungandr – the world serpent, but he can call me Jör, as you do~

“You’re who?!” Hera hissed, jerking back, hauling Jör’s body up enough that his head was in front of her. “When were you planning on telling me this?”

~You did not appear ready enough to know, or I would have told you sooner~ Jör shrugged, if a basilisk could shrug. ~You have begun integrating who you were with who you are now, so I felt it safe enough to tell you. And yes, before either of you asks, I am that Jörmungandr. No, I am not Loki’s child, before he asks. Loki found me as a young hatchling, and Odin cast me out; thinking I would cause his end. Do not worry, I will not force you to be who you were, and I will protect you from Odin should it ever be needed~

“You just want the chance to eat him.” Hera grumbled, unsure what else to say. Jör went back to snuggling her neck, having to readjust how he had himself wrapped around her waist and shoulders, his tail hanging down to drape across her outer thigh and hip. “He says his name is Jörmungandr. We can call him Jör. Hedwig, you’re not secretly…I dunno…Huginn or Muninn are you?”

The snowy owl on her perch turned up her beak at that, and looked away.

“Sorry. Jör’s being ridiculous.” Hera cooed, hoping to appease her. “You don’t mind sharing me with him, do you?”

The two Familiars looked at each other like they were sizing each other up to eat, before finally deciding to rub each other’s faces in acceptance.

“Well, now that that’s been decided.” Tony chuckled at the incredulousness of it all. “Ministry visit tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah…” Hera sighed.

“Potter!” A familiar voice called from the living room. “My father’s a House Elf. What did you do?”

“I swear my life was boring at one point.” Hera commented, as Tony started laughing again. “Honest.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Well, now that that’s been decided.” Tony chuckled at the incredulousness of it all. “Ministry visit tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah…” Hera sighed.

“Potter!” A familiar voice called from the living room. “My father’s a House Elf. What did you do?”

“I swear my life was boring at one point.” Hera commented, as Tony started laughing again. “Honest.”

Chapter 41

Hera was halfway through the fry up for the Dursleys before she was properly awake enough to realize she wasn’t with them anymore. Tony was inexplicably washing the dishes, and didn’t bat an eye as to what she was doing. He must have thought her awake before…maybe. Jör was wrapped around her as much as he had been the evening before. When she froze, both seemed to turn to her at once.

“Hera, it’s okay. This is a Flat I rented to be close for your school during the Tournament. You got here last night after we went out for Chinese.” Tony informed her in a rush, suddenly by her side. “Jör gave us a surprise after a shopping trip, and we need to go to your magic Ministry before we decide on anything. Also, your friend’s dad is a house elf. Do you remember all that?”

It took her a minute to realize he was trying to ground her, like someone coming out of a nightmare; an unusual experience for her, as the Dursleys had never cared.

“I’m fine, Tony…What…” She tried, looking around at the stove and everything. “What happened?”

“You just cooked a full English breakfast…in your sleep.” Tony answered, gently moving her away from the stove before turning off everything. The food looked ready to plate as it was. “Sometimes I can’t sleep well, and woke up early to work on a design for a new weapon I’m thinking of creating. I see you come in around the crack of dawn, and don’t think anything of it for a bit until I hear cooking sounds. I come in here, and you’re already cutting things up, working the stove settings. Jör is hissing at me something awful, smacking you with his tail and his head, but you’re not reacting, which is when I realized you were asleep. I just stuck around to make sure you didn’t burn or cut yourself, and let you at it. It’s best not to wake someone when they’re sleepwalking anyway.”

She hears Jör grumbling, but it’s not actual words, so she’s still at a loss.

“Oh, the best part of the experience was when sleep you decided that Jör’s head thump attempts to wake you were annoying, and you took a glob of butter and smacked him right in the face with it.” Tony continued, guiding her to the table now, where…

“Just how much food did I make, Tony?” Hera asked, looking at it all.

“Did I mention the now happy people in this building that didn’t have to make breakfast? This isn’t even a quarter of what you cooked up.” He admitted. “I had to call a place and have groceries delivered…a few times.”

Was there magic that would open the floor up out from under her? Because that’s what she wanted right now.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m fairly certain you made a lot of people’s day.” Tony insisted, seeing how mortified she was getting. “Now, come on. Enjoy the fruits of your labor, and all that…Maybe apologize to Jör for smacking him in the face with butter.”

“Oh good, you’re here.” He hears, the moment he steps out of the floo. “Maybe you can help me.”

“Am I at the wrong address?” Draco asks, not quite understanding. “You are Tony Stark, so…Where’s Potter?”

“That’s what I’m talking about. In here.” Stark nods, motioning for him to follow. “She was fine a minute ago, and then she fell asleep again, and now she’s like this. I know you’re not supposed to wake up someone who’s sleep walking, but…well…”

He saw what the man meant when he walked into what he assumed was where she’d slept last night. There was now a full sized loom in there, and she was weaving on it. Hera was one of the few people he knew of that had a true gift. He’d heard about her asking after Weaving as a form of telling the future. If she was weaving in her sleep…

“Merlin’s balls, she’s weaving a prophecy.” Draco whispered, right before he saw the rather large snake on her bed with a red feather on its…Hold up, that wasn’t a normal snake. “Stark, tell me she got crafty in her sleep, and stuck a feather to a rather large python you just happened to have because you’re obscenely rich like that.”

“Afraid not.” Stark replied with aplomb. “This little guy was hanging out in some secret chamber at your school, and decided Hera was his now.”

“You’re telling me that Hera found the Chamber of Secrets, didn’t tell anyone, and Salazar Slytherin’s Familiar has decided he likes her now?” Draco asked, with a strained voice.

“That about sums it up, yeah.” Stark nodded. “Now, about the part where she’s weaving a prophecy in her sleep? She can do that?”

“Obviously.” Draco drawled, gesturing to the girl who was still asleep and doing said weaving. “What brought this on anyway?”

“She’d planned her summer like she was going to have to run away from the Dursleys, like she’s done every summer since starting at that school, and I don’t think she knows what to do now that she doesn’t have to anymore.” Stark admitted in a rush. “I’m pretty sure she cooked enough of Full English Breakfasts to feed all of…well…England earlier, or at least the building we’re in. She was asleep when she did that too.”

Draco wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to that, but just nodded. “Somehow, that sounds like her. Okay, deal with sleeping Potter first, Draco, panic about Salazar’s familiar adopting her later. Hey, do you know how to get a hold of Granger? She’s muggleborn. She should have one of those…Fellytones?”

“Telephones.” Stark corrected.

“Right, one of those. Granger is Potter’s roommate at school. She might have seen this on occasion.” Draco suggested. “I…I don’t know what to do for this. Weasley would suggest scaring her awake, but that’s bad because apparently she has a habit of apparating to the smallest place she can find in a panic. Fred and George talked about that.”

“So, call Hermione?” Stark asked, to clarify.

“Yes, call Hermione.” Draco nodded.

...

“Granger residence, this is Jean speaking.” Her mother greeted, answering the phone. “Tony Stark?!”

Hermione’s head shot up from, no longer paying attention to the book she’d been reading.

“Hermione! Tony Stark is on the phone for you.” Her mother called out a moment later. “Hera’s sleepwalking.”

“Oh dear.” Hermione sighed, placing a bookmark to the page before closing the book. It wouldn’t do to lose the page, not with the research she was already doing. “Coming, Mother!”

“He sounds a bit frantic, Love.” Her mother explained as she walked into the room. “Apparently, she’s already fed England a Full English Breakfast, and started weaving prophecies.”

“Oh, well that’s…certainly different…” Hermione commented lightly, her mind reeling, before taking the phone. “I don’t know how long this is going to take, Mum.”

“That’s quite alright.” Her mother insisted, kissing her forehead. “We’ll talk about those survival guides you’re interested in when you’re done. Help your friend.”

Hermione waited till her mother was out of the room before putting the phone to her ear. “Dr. Stark?”

“Oh, thank God.” Is the first thing she hears, followed by a panicked. “Draco, get her away from that window!”

“Draco’s there?” Hermione can’t help but ask, morbidly curious. “Why?”

“Oh, Hera did something, and now his dad’s a House Elf. I suggested he come over this morning so they could work out what to do about it.” Stark answered distractedly. “Tell me you have a Floo, and can get here in like three seconds. I don’t know what to do. Draco said you were her roommate at school.”

“Unfortunately we do not, Dr. Stark. We’ve never really had need of the Floo before now.” Hermione explained, tabling the fact that Lucius Malfoy was currently a house elf. “Tell me what’s been happening.”

“Everything was fine yesterday, but it was like she didn’t believe she was going to be staying with me. She’s been planning her escape from the Dursleys since the start of the school year.” Stark explained, though it was obvious his mind was still distracted. “I guess with the stress of the year, and everything that happened with – what did she call him? – Snort-a-wart, that I guess she hasn’t had time to process. She wakes up sometimes, but it’s never for very long. We were going to go to the Ministry today about Salazar Slytherin’s familiar that has decided to adopt her, but…well…this happened.”

“I have an idea. Give her the phone.” Hermione stated, sighing as she wondered just what else she was going to have to table till later, waiting while she heard a mumbled conversation until she was sure Hera had the phone.

“Hera?”

“…Mione?”

“Hera, where are you? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I…I don’t know. It doesn’t look the same as before.”

“You’re in that other place?”

“Yeah, but I can’t find anyone. Something’s wrong. Why can I hear you? That’s never happened before.”

“You’re sleepwalking in Tony’s flat.”

“Oh. I was thinking about making fry up later.”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Really? In my sleep? That’s fantastic. How freaked out was he?”

“That’s not important. Where are you now?”

“I’m looking for Eir. No one was in the library. Tyr is not in the training grounds. I’m not going anywhere near Pirate Santa. The Healing Hall. I need to find the Healing Hall. Something’s wrong…Oh dear God! Hermione, they…What have they done?…”

Thud!

“Draco, get the…”

“Granger, I don’t know what you did, but she’s passed out; fully this time, I think, but…” Draco stated, having picked up the phone, before she heard a gasp. “Merlin’s beard, they’ve sewn her lips shut!”

...

Tony held her in his arms, still in the floor, too afraid to move them to somewhere more comfortable. She’d been talking on the phone to her friend, and it looked like it was working, but then…She’d fallen, and by the time he’d started to pick her up, her lips had been sewn shut. Tears streamed down her face even in sleep, and he didn’t know how she could have slept through that much pain. He didn’t know what to do, and cutting the strings did nothing; They reattached themselves in seconds.

“Shit! Draco, I know your mother is probably worried right now, but could you get that Potions Professor…Snape? Do you know how to get in contact with him?” Tony implored, from his position on the floor, worried out of his mind. He’d managed to get them leaned up against the wall, and Jör was doing his level best blanket impression.

“He’s my godfather. He’ll know what to do.” Draco agreed, before walking out the door. He could still hear the boy. “Try not to worry, Granger, I’m getting Uncle Severus. He’ll know what to do. In the meantime, I’ll try to get a picture of my father as a house elf for you. How’s that?”

...

Loki. Hera was staring at Loki. In all the time she had been visiting this place since taking the potion, she had never seen him, had never met him. He’s taller than her, even now, but he looks so terribly fragile as he is; Passed out on a bed in the Healer’s Hall, his lips sewn shut. No one seemed to notice her. Frigga was caught up in her grief, and Eir was wringing her hands, but neither of them helped him. Why weren’t they helping him?

“Oðin forbade it.” Frigga murmured quietly, not even looking away from her son’s face. Oh, she must have said that aloud.

“You’re his mother.” Hera growled, before glaring at Eir. “What’s your excuse?”

“The same.” Eir admitted, ashamed. “Oðin now wields Gungnir. Once his decrees are given, we can not act against them. A slam of that weapon upon the ground, and we kneel or do as he would command.”

“A physical compulsion.” Hera realized. “He should never have had the opportunity to hold such a weapon, never mind wield it.”

She looked to the two of them, and then to Loki, before coming to a decision. “I have an idea.”

“You can’t go against the will of the AllFather.” Eir declared worriedly, seeing she was making for Loki. “None of us can.”

She snorted, unable to help herself.

“My name is Hera Potter,” Hera declared, much as she had when faced with the merfolk, before placing her hands on either side of Loki’s head as she looked down at him from behind the low headboard. “and Oðin does not speak for me.”

The pain is instant, and she can’t even gasp, but it works. It frees Eir to start tending to Loki, even as Frigga catches Hera before she falls. Tears fall down her face, and Frigga tries to calm her, recounting what had happened when Hera shook her head but pleaded with her eyes. Loki had set up a contest between the dwarves of Niðavellir and the goblins of Miðgarðr. The goblins had won, but because both parties had promised the gifts to Ásgarðr, the dwarves lost out.

Angry at the loss, the dwarves fell upon Loki. As they were so much larger than him, it did not take many to pin him down. Oðin forbade any to help him, even as he watched his son have his lips sewn for the trickery they felt he’d pulled on them. Neither Thor, nor their friends had helped him. Frigga had tried, but she was pulled away, and Oðin gave the command using Gungnir before she could break free. He would not force her actions in regards to where he himself was concerned, and so she shunned him in favor of being with her son, though she could not heal him. That had been weeks ago, and Thor had not come to visit his brother in all that time.

Loki had not woken in all that had transpired since Hera had entered the room, and Eir was able to heal her, having not been forbidden by Oðin. Hera was by his side in an instant, an absolutely crazy idea forming in her mind. She didn’t know if it would help him, god of Mischief and Chaos he would grow to be, but she would give him the blessing of her magic to aid him. He wouldn’t be able to resist Gungnir, but she hoped it would give him strength when he needed it most. The lines of the dream memories had begun to blur in places for her, and she could not see what results this had had, if any.

She shook with anger when she was done, and looked to Frigga as she demanded. “Where’s Thor?”

...

Thor was sulking in the gardens. His father was convinced that the dwarves spoke truth in that Loki had deceived them, and so Thor thought it must be true. Father was a wise and just king. Loki had tried to plead his case, having set up the contest but not chosen the winners, begging Thor to help him. Thor did not see how Loki could have tricked them, but then they explained that he had assured them that they would win; a trick in their eyes, a talk to build ones confidence in Loki’s.

Still, the look of betrayal when Thor did not try to help him as their Lady Mother had, was burned into his mind forever. His friends had tried to cheer Thor up, assure him that his father had been right, but the look stayed fresh in his mind’s eye. He could not shake it, and no matter how many times he heard their words, he could not shake the feeling that he had failed. Loki would no longer trust him as his brother. He had failed to protect him as an older brother should, and that was on him.

“Thor!”

The voice had him looking up in shock. How long had it been since he’d last heard her voice? Had it really been decades since he’d seen her last? She looked just the same! She would be disappointed in him, he knew. He was disappointed in himself; for though he did not believe his father was wrong, he had not protected his little brother.

Looking at her now, he could see the anger rolling off her in waves. Her eyes seemed to glow with magic so much like his brother’s, it made his heart pang with guilt. Why had Loki set up that contest? He knew where his silver tongue usually got him. There was no honour in his tricks. It’s what their father was trying to teach him.

“Lady Hera, what has happened to you?” Thor asked in concern. He could see new scars on her face since her last visit.

“I helped Loki.” Hera admitted proudly, chin jutted outward in defiance.

“You could not have. Oðin forbade it.” Thor objected, unable to understand. “With Gungnir…”

“My name is Hera Potter, and Oðin does not speak for me.” She declared, almost as if it were a vow. In fact, the words reverberated around them as thunder would the sky. “What do you have to say for yourself, Thor Oðinson? Why did you not protect him when you could have?”

“I know I’m his brother, but-” were the only words he got out before she lunged, punching him so hard that he crashed into one of the trees.

“How dare you! How dare you call yourself his brother?! You blithering oaf!” She snapped in outrage. “You no longer deserve the title! What did you do? Ask once, get told no, and then pout because it’s probably the first time you’d ever been told no in your whole bloody life?! Spoiled little shite that you are, that’s probably what you’re really sulking about, isn’t it? Daddy said no, boohoo, poor Thor.”

Thor pulled himself out of the grove he’d made in the tree, and grunted. “I do not understand why you would take such offense, Lady Hera.”

If it was possible, she looked even angrier at him as she growled. “You will.”

and then she was gone.

Chapter Text

Last time...

Thor pulled himself out of the grove he’d made in the tree, and grunted. “I do not understand why you would take such offense, Lady Hera.”

If it was possible, she looked even angrier at him as she growled. “You will.”

and then she was gone.

Chapter 42

“She’s coming around.” She hears, before groaning, and the voice responds. “Oh no you don’t. Wake up, Potter.”

“M’head is killn me.” She disagreed, burrowing into her very warm bed.

“Headache potion.”

She opened an eye, glaring distrustfully at the blond spectre holding the vial before her.

“Come on, Potter. Uncle Severus gave me this headache potion special, so I’m sure it’s chocked full of poison just for you. Isn’t that nice?”

“Why…?” Hera asked, sitting up enough that Jör slid a bit and had to get situated again. “How long was I out?”

“Not long. Stark picked you up and held you the whole time. Jör, I think Stark said his name was, sort of became a living blanket, and I have so many questions about that snake I can’t even fathom them all.” Draco relayed, keeping his voice low. “Stark’s really worried about you.”

She looked over at Tony, who was snoozing against the wall and still half covered by Jör. “He’s a good big brother.”

She froze again, suddenly looking more than a little green.

“Potter, what is it?” Draco asked, alarmed again.

“I think I’m gonna be sick!” and she was bolting for the loo before Tony was even fully awake enough to be aware of the fact that she was awake at all.

...

Hermione found her a little while later, having rushed her family into taking them to where Tony Stark was staying when she got off the phone, bent over the toilet.

“Hera?” She called out cautiously, as she stepped into the room.

She was answered with another bout of hurling, and Hera's sobs.

“Shh. Shh. It’ll be alright.” Hermione soothed, brushing the other girl’s hair back. “Maybe you shouldn’t go back there again.”

“It was just a shite day, Mione…a really shite day…I’m fine, but who I was…Merlin, Hermione, they sewed his lips shut!”

“Hera…”

“I couldn’t leave him like that…I couldn’t…”

“Hera…”

“I took it…transferred it to me…They couldn’t help him…Had been ordered not to…Physical compulsion…but they could help me…Couldn’t leave him like that, Mione…His own brother…His own brother didn’t protect him. What was I supposed to do?”

“Merlin help you and your saving people thing.” Hermione swore under her breath. Hera had transferred herself over to Hermione’s shoulder by this point, clinging to her like a limpet. “Come on, let’s get some mouthwash, and maybe blow your nose. You’ll thank me later.”

The first day Heimdall ‘sees’ Hera, he’s shocked at just how much like Prince Loki she looks. He’s heard some of the trainees speak of a young girl Frigga had all but adopted, but she’d always been gone when he’d sought to find her. He’d also heard that this girl refused to be near Oðin in any capacity. There were spatial time distortions around the girl, and now Heimdall realized why she would not want to be near Oðin. The man was already willing to do anything, including punishing his son for a possible future slight, in order to stave off Ragnarök. Someone with knowledge of the future, able to defy Oðin, would be a prize too tempting to resist, or a threat to strong to ignore.

“My name is Hera Potter,…and Oðin does not speak for me.”

It doesn’t dawn on him what she plans to do till it’s too late to stop her. She’d taken the punishment into herself, allowing Eir to heal Loki, as the Healer had not been the one to remove the thread. He was uncertain whether it was wise for Queen Frigga to tell the child what had happened to Prince Loki, but it was not his place to judge such things. What he was surprised by the most was the young girl’s immediate need to boost Prince Loki’s magic, as if the boy needed it, and her desire to find Crown Prince Thor. It was a solid punch, he’d give her that. He would keep watch for this Hera Potter, Heimdall decided, though he would keep his own council for now. It would be interesting to see what became of her.

“What if he doesn’t want to be my brother anymore?”

The words were spoken softly, but it was the one thing she was truly afraid of more than anything she’d encountered so far in her admittedly short life. Hermione had wanted to ask about the basilisk that wasn’t killing or petrifying them, she knew, but she hadn’t. The girl hadn’t even asked for any more clues about who she’d been before. All Hermione had wanted was for her to tell Tony what was bothering her, but that felt like it was more difficult than just facing off against another dragon. Draco had left earlier, after handing Hermione something that made her lose her mind in laughter for a bit, but even he had given Hera the advice that Hermione was trying to give.

“Hera, he’s your brother.” Hermione stated quietly, trying to reassure her. “He’ll always be your brother. Just tell him. If it doesn’t work out, you have places to go that you didn’t have before. You’ll make it, and you have us. We’ll always be there for you, but I have a feeling he’s not going to abandon you, no matter what happens.”

and with that, Hermione walked out the door.

Tony was standing by the kitchen island, but with the open floor plan he’d seen Hermione leave, and was now cautiously making his way over to her like he was afraid he’d spook her.

“Okay, so…What’s the likelihood of us pretending this never happened?” Hera asked hesitantly, turning to face him, shaking slightly, trying to take comfort in the fact that she was at least sitting down already.

“None.” Tony replied sternly, making her grimace. “Hera, what you did took at least ten years off my life, and I still don’t know what happened. All I know is that we couldn’t wake you, like you were determined to stay in that state, lips sewn shut. I…I don’t even know how to process that.”

“I…” She hesitated, looking away for a moment, before plucking up the courage to try again. “It’s okay, you know, if you don’t want to be my brother anymore.”

“Is that…Is that what you think?” Tony asked, looking heartbroken. Putting down his drink, he sat next to her. “Hera, you scared the ever loving mortal shit out of me. Your lips were suddenly sewn shut, blood everywhere, and I couldn’t help you. I tried. I cut the threads, but it didn’t matter. They just reconnected. Nothing worked. It was admittedly fascinating, but mostly scary as shit, and disturbing as all fuck.”

“But that’s just it! If that scares you, how are you gonna handle it when things get worse?” Hera hiccupped, trying to keep the tears at bay. “They will, you know. Things are going to get so much worse. I know what having this scar on my forehead means now. I know what’s going to have to happen to me. It’s not rocket science, Tony.”

“I’m not giving up that easily, and I don’t think you should either.” Tony interjected sternly.

“He did. My brother…his brother just…His father told him to leave him there, and he just…did.” Hera exclaimed, tears falling down her face now despite her best efforts. Tony was holding onto her as she cried, and she couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed about it yet. “It was a fair contest, but the dwarves were sore losers, and they took it out on him…and his brother just…just stood there and watched his lips be sewn shut. The command hadn’t been given yet, so no one was physically compelled to comply, but they just…Only his mother tried to help him, but his father stopped her before she could.”

“And that transferred to you?” Tony asked, perhaps holding her a little tighter than before, but she shook her head no.

“No, I did that to me.” She admitted, and he gently backed her away from him. She looked away, thinking this was the rejection she’d feared.

“Hera, why would you do that to yourself?” Tony quietly asked, his voice guarded. “How did you do that to yourself?”

“When I found him in the Healer’s Hall…Tony, it was awful…” Hera explained, her eyes imploring him to understand. “He’d been like that for weeks! They were having to spell food into him because he couldn’t eat, and they couldn’t remove the thread. His mother was beside herself, and the Healer couldn’t think of what to do without going against an order she couldn’t physically resist. They couldn’t help him,…but I could. So I cast the spell, transferred it to myself instead, so they could heal him and then me.”

She was being hugged again, though it took her by surprise, and eventually she relaxed into it.

“This is what they meant about your saving people thing, and rushing into situations.” Tony murmured into her hair. “Hera, I’m not going to stop being your brother because of that. I will panic, as is the way, but I’m your brother. That’s not going to stop, no matter how many times you rush into situations with your saving people thing, or how many times I freak out about it.”

...

“So,…I know dodging when I hear it.” Tony crowed when the tears had dried. “You know who you were.”

“What? No! Why would you think that?!” Hera denied, looking panicked. “I never said!”

“Oh, come on now, Thor, it’s okay. You can tell me.” He teased, bursting out laughing at the look of dumbstruck betrayal on her face. “It’s the lightning bolt that gave you away, I’m afraid.”

Only then did she realize he was joking.

“You’re a bloody comedian, you know that?” Hera grouched, before her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don’t know if I should say it out loud, Tony. He’s still alive right now. What happened to him to send him back to become me hasn’t happened yet for him, and I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I used to be that person. I know things because of what happens to him, and I can’t stop any of it.”

“Can you use it?” Tony asked, thoughtfully. “Without messing things up, or altering them too much, can you use what you know?”

“Um…Maybe? I mean, there are gaps in those memories, so it’s possible…I’d thought them dreams for so long…A lot of what I know about the future here he sort of pulled out of super secret spy agents’ brains as he mind controlled them. There’s a lot of information in here.” She admitted, pausing at the shock that was evident on his face. “I can explain?…I think?”

“That’d be nice.” Tony agreed with a slight grimace.

“Thor wasn’t ready to be king, but explaining that to Oðin does very little, meaning absolutely nothing. So, he did what he does best. He manipulates a situation in such a way that it shows Oðin that Thor wasn’t ready. Thor wanted revenge, to start a war, and all because a small group of Jötnar – frost giants – interrupted his coronation in the hopes that they could steal back something of theirs. The Casket of Ancient Winters.” Hera explained.

“Very D&D.” Tony commented appreciatively.

“I don’t know what that is, Tony.” Hera sighed, exasperated.

“Going on the list then. You’d make an excellent Dungeon Master with your story telling skills. We’re so doing that later.” Tony replied, already adding it into his phone. “Alright, continue?”

“Thor drags him with his friends on a raid into enemy territory, and one of the Jötnar grabs who I was, which forces the shift. That’s how he finds out what he is. Instead of being told he was adopted from the start, that he was loved and accepted for who and what he was, he grew up thinking himself a freak and a disappointment of a son because something always felt…off.” Hera continued. “Thor could have died. Oðin had to save them, because who I had been was sort of having an internal panic attack. Thor was angry he hadn’t gotten his revenge, and Oðin has to exile him to Earth. Speaking of which, at some point down the road, I’m going down to New Mexico, because there is no way I’m missing that. Anyway, who I had been got into an argument with Oðin about what he was after Thor was banished, calling himself a trophy of war, wondering why he hadn’t been thrown into the vault like the rest.”

“Okay, question.” Tony interrupts. This has been bugging him since he’d figured out who she’d been. “How are you a girl?”

“I have no idea. I’m kind of convinced that when Oðin found the babe in the temple along with the casket, the babe saw this big scary bloke with an eye patch that was saying something about being a son of Ásgarðr, and shifted into what the guy wanted so that maybe they wouldn’t get eaten or something.” Hera admitted, both kind of snickering at that. “This is super embarrassing, I’ll have you know, but at least it’s better than ‘the talk’ Petunia tried having with me. I learned more from books than I did that woman. I’m still waiting for some of it to kick in.”

“Tell me you talked to your school nurse, or another woman.” Tony asked, suddenly panicked.

“I did, but I have additional questions I will ask someone else later.” She replied, patting his hand in a patronizing manner, and he couldn’t even bother to be embarrassed with how relieved he was. “Anyway, Jötnar are natural shapeshifters, so in a sense they’re…sexless, as in they don’t have operational sex organs until they need them, and then they can have whatever. There are masculine and feminine inclined Jötnar, and those that just don’t desire to be one or the other, but until they need the organs, they’re just…on standby or something, like they are both and neither. It’s complicated. Not me was able to shapeshift into other races, genders, species, it didn’t matter, but he never felt comfortable with who he was. I guess, with the new chance and all, magic chose. Are we done with the sex talk now?”

“Easy there, Snowflake.” Tony raised his hands in surrender, snickering. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”

She huffed, but continued. “Anyway. Oðin falls into that hibernation thing of his that he named after himself like a total twat, and who I had been has to take up being Regent. His mental state is a wreck at this point, and he’s just been handed control of an entire realm. Thor hadn’t been in exile learning humility for long, but his friends wanted him back, and he couldn’t…A Regent doesn’t have that kind of authority, but try telling them that. They thought he was tricking them, because of course he had to be. They called him Silvertongue and Liesmith, because he used cunning and what they referred to as dishonorable womanly tricks and deceit instead of the more obviously honourable brute strength. A bit of mutiny later, and a lie or two, Thor’s back and pissed. To be fair, ‘Not me’ may have told him his father was dead, which was only sort of partially accurate. Someone had been trying to kill him, lead by…‘not me’…because it was the only way to get the would be assassin close enough so that…‘not me’ could kill him!”

“So…you assassinated the assassin?” Tony asked, to clarify.

“Not me did that,…but yes.” Hera nodded sagely. “Not me’s blood father was sort of a ruthless bastard, as far as I can remember. There would have been war, and pandemonium. It really had seemed like a good idea at the time, but I digress. So, when Thor gets back, and is pissed he’d been lied to …‘Not me’ is sort of in the middle of trying to mass genocide the planet his birth people are from.”

“You…He tried to destroy an entire planet of people?” Tony squeaked.

“You go and discover you’re from a race of people you’ve been raised to hate all your life, the monsters mothers tell their children is under their bed, responsible for killing everything good in the universe, and then see how you handle it.” Hera huffed, both giving him a withering glare and blushing in embarrassment. Okay, point. “He gets it into his thick skull somehow that in order to prove himself an Oðinson, he has to kill the part of himself that isn’t, and it’s not like Oðin hadn’t done something similar. How do you think ‘Not me’ knew what to do? Worked on the Dark Elves easily enough. It’s not like Oðin got to be ruler of the Nine through peace and benevolence, and everyone holding hands as they all promised to get along. Anyway, in order to try and save the people he’d once hated, Thor destroys the BiFröst; the portal gateway thing ‘Not me’ had been using in reverse to destroy the planet. There’s a backlash of energy, and we both fall off the bridge. Oðin wakes, and just barely manages to catch Thor, who had managed to grab a hold of me with one hand and Gungnir… Oðin’s spear thingy…with the other. Who I was…you can’t imagine how happy I was to see him awake. I could tell him it was for him. It was! He’d see reason, just this once. He’d be proud of me…but…but he just looked so disappointed. Always disappointed. It had been a terrible idea, and I’m glad it doesn’t work now, but then…in that moment…I was crushed…I mean…He…I…”

“Pronouns aren’t important, Hera.” Tony gently encourages her. “I’ll follow the story just fine.”

“I’m not that person, Tony. I was, I know, even if it’s still hard for me to accept, but who I was…Who I was died becoming who I am now. I was born Hera Primrose Potter. That is who I am now. It’s important I remember that, especially with everything trying to assimilate in my brain.” She insisted, just as quietly as he had spoken to her. “Your identity, who you think you are, is wrapped up in what you think you know; your family, your friends, your experiences within that sphere and out; everything. For a magic user, it’s intrinsic to them, and it can affect their magical core when something challenges that. Experiences can shape it, change it, but when it gets called into question or shattered, their magic can turn in on itself and attack them, eat at them…drives them mad until it kills them, if something isn’t done soon enough. The first rule of seiðr is to know yourself. When he found out he’d been lied to all his life, that he was raised to hate his own people, he couldn’t reconcile that with who he thought he’d been. Something in him broke, because he no longer knew himself. His psyche…splintered, shattered, and everything his seiðr was built on along with it. When Oðin refused him, it destroyed what was left of it.”

She looked uncomfortable, grimacing as she tried to think of a way to continue, but Tony had already figured this part out.

“He let go.” Tony says aloud, if only for the confirmation. She nods, not looking at him. “Is that when he dies, when he becomes you?”

The grimace was not a good sign.

“I don’t understand.” He admitted, troubled by the implications. There was something he wasn’t getting. “He lets go. Did he survive? What did they do for him? What happened?”

“He…He fell into the Void.”

Something wasn’t computing here, and he sighed. “I don’t…Hera, I need context. You can’t mean he…” It was there in the look on her face the moment he paused. “He fell into the vacuum of space? The literal Void? How is that even…I thought he fell off a bridge!”

“Ásgarðr isn’t a planet.” What the fuck? “It’s…Honestly, I think it might be what’s left of a planet; a planetoid, if you will.” Taking a piece of paper, and a random nearby pen, she began to draw as she explained. “The histories didn’t talk about what happened in any real detail, just that there was a great war. Something happened to cause the planet to break into pieces. A group of mages were able to save a bit of it. They talk about it like it was the only piece to survive, but I have to wonder if there are others that found a way as well. If so, Ásgarðr either hasn’t looked, has no wish to acknowledge them, or they found a way to hide themselves from the Realm Eternal.”

“What are you drawing exactly?” Tony asked, trying not to get sucked into the data dump she’s just shoved at him. The technological applications alone…best not to think about it right now…Maybe later.

“I’m trying to draw how the BiFröst is set up.”

“Hera, that looks like a black hole.” He noted, seeing what she was working on.

“That’s because it is.” She confirmed without looking up, intent on drawing at the moment, as she just casually uproots what he’d thought was a fundamental truth. “Ásgarðr worked out ages ago how to harness the power of a black hole, used it to travel and subjugate the realms within the Yggðrasil, and then controlled the amount of access those other realms got to that kind of tech/magic.”

That didn’t sound salty at all.

“The BiFröst is connected to Ásgarðr by a luminescent bridge, looks like a translucent rainbow. Can not make that up.” She falters now, and Tony – for all that he really wants to unpack BiFröst and all its secrets – puts one of his hands over her own. He knows what it is like to want to commit suicide, knows what it’s like to make the attempt, to come out on the other side of a failed attempt uncertain how to feel about it. “Below the bridge, there’s nothing but the Void of space, and no one survives that.”

“He did.”

“He wanted to die.”

“…Do you?”

The question throws her for a moment, but she eventually shakes her head in the negative as she replies. “I know what it feels like to want it all to just stop, but…There are worse things than death, Tony.”

Something about how she said that made him shiver, more so the haunted look in her eyes as she says it, because he understands that on some level she knows.

“He’s found, tortured, beaten, roasted alive; because how else would a person torture a frost giant but with heat, for over a year, until he would have agreed to anything and everything just to get the pain to stop. He is then given a stone that could control others, which we’re going to need to talk about more in depth later, all while the stone allowed others to control and keep tabs on him to an extent.” Hera told him. “He gets stopped, but not one of them noticed how hard he tried to fight against what had been done to him, and eventually…he stops trying to tell them.”

“That’s some really specific info there, Kid.” Tony commented, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that there was someone out there who could control a being like Loki, let alone everything else she’d just thrown him with.

“I know things about you that you haven’t done yet; like you getting into clean energy, but only after make a miniaturized arc reactor, and a flying metal suit.” Hera continued.

“You’ve got to be joking.” Tony exclaimed, flabbergasted, momentarily sidetracked. “The arc reactor Howard built was huge, and it doesn’t even work! It was made to shut the hippies up!”

“It’ll work, and it will be small enough to fit right about here.” Hera makes a circle with her hands, and places them above his heart. “On that note, do try not to get blown up if you can help it. The palladium poisons you over time, so I might have to raid a super secret spy organization for your father’s notes, and see if we can work out that element he couldn’t create. I imagine they’ll still be in the same place Barton remembered them being. We’ll figure out open heart surgery later, if you like. How are we doing, so far?”

“I think I need a drink.” Tony admitted honestly. He’s not even sure why.

“Don’t mind if I do.” She replied with aplomb.

“I mind if you do.” Tony snorted. “No little sister of mine is going to become an alcoholic at fourteen.”

“Fifteen, thanks to a bit of time travel in third year, and I would like to point out that theoretically I’m older than you.” Hera commented, putting on full aristocratic airs as she continued. “Don’t worry, little brother, I’ll keep you on the straight and narrow.”

Partially inspired by Ásgarðrian Galdr by Valerie_Vancollie

Chapter Text

Last time...

“I think I need a drink.” Tony admitted honestly. He’s not even sure why.

“Don’t mind if I do.” She replied with aplomb.

“I mind if you do.” Tony snorted. “No little sister of mine is going to become an alcoholic at fourteen.”

“Fifteen, thanks to a bit of time travel in third year, and I would like to point out that theoretically I’m older than you.” Hera commented, putting on full aristocratic airs as she continued. “Don’t worry, little brother, I’ll keep you on the straight and narrow.”

Chapter 43

“Okay, so how are we doing this?” Tony asked, as they were driven through the city.

“We get to the phone booth first.” Hera relayed. “The Ministry of Magic isn’t actually part of the building, but it’s anchored to it.”

“So it’s like a fold in space, or a shift in planes of existence?” Tony theorized, brightening when Hera nodded.

“It’s exactly like that, though those old fuddy duddies will get all huffy at hearing non-magical explanations to how magic works.” Hera confirmed with a nod. “Most everything you see exists in three dimensional space, right? So these folds or shifts in planes of existence are like a fourth dimensional space, and the shops in Diagon Alley, those are folds in space inside of folds in space, so those are like fifth dimensional spaces. Those bags I told you about that Hermione and I made, those would count as sixth dimensional spaces, because of all the layers that go into them, but they’re so small they don’t affect anything even though the space inside them is immense; same thing for school trunks.”

“Like a Bag of Holding! And your trunk…which isn’t really a trunk right now…How did he get it to look like a necklace exactly?” Tony wondered, looking at the small charm at the hollow of her throat. It looked like a small green stone.

“Transfiguration. I’ll be able to turn it back into a trunk and expand it to normal size whenever. This just saves on space. Wizards have solved the hoarding problem, by making all our things teeny tiny to be put in spaces bigger on the inside than out, so we can hoard more things.” She replied a bit distractedly, and then went back to her explanations from before. “The phone booth is the access point to the Ministry, which is surrounded by people. Apparently busy people make for good camouflage, because no one’s paying attention to you. Add a few notice-me-not charms, and a muggle repellent or two, and they never notice; even the determined ones. We’ll need to head straight for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where the Familiar registration is, which is used for the more exotic ones so that people don’t freak out. Because of what Jör is, we might run into a lot of paperwork, and the Department of Mysteries might want a look too.

We might want to stop by the Department for International Magical Cooperation, as there is a section of it that deals with trade. You’ll most likely go through MACUSA for that, but this way Fudge will feel like he matters, and you’ll be bringing him in a lot of votes because of pro-muggle attitudes. I’ll have Malfoy back me up when he’s human again. He’s Fudge’s main lobbyist, I mean supporter with donations. Also, we should stop by the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts to make sure that we have a copy of the regulations when trying to make whatever, because we don’t want whatever we make to be able to turn malicious on anyone; Curses, things like that. Plus, Arthur would appreciate the visit.”

“What about getting you an exemption to use magic outside of school during the summers and holidays?” Tony asked. “Snape said your wandless magic is off the charts, but that sometimes you switch between the two without realizing it. You can’t use your wand outside of school right now, and you might need it. I would rather you be protected from bureaucrats than not.”

“That’s not necessarily true. I’ve been made ‘Of Age’ by Magic, thanks to the tournament, which means the trace isn’t on my wand anymore.” Hera pointed out. “I could do whatever, within reason, and be fine.”

“If a Ministry flunky doesn’t decide to take things into their own hands because you one upped them, and made them look bad.” Tony reminded her.

Hera looked thoughtful, nodding absentmindedly. “That would be…Improper use of Magic office then, and if not then they would know where I should go. We would still have to go through MACUSA just to be safe.”

...

“I see we went with the complete lack of any and all subtlety.” Severus commented, seeing the pair step out of the elevator. “How very Gryffindor of you, Miss Potter.”

Potter smiled wide, snickering along with her brother. He wondered what she was doing when she raised her hand, at least until she snapped her fingers. Jör, and he could only imagine what the name implied, was wrapped all over her shoulders and waist. He hadn’t been there before, and there’d been no impression on her clothes to suggest anything had been. Jör stuck his head out from under her hair just enough to where the red feather was easily visible, looking as innocent as any basilisk could.

“How’s this for subtle?” She asked with a wicked shark like grin.

It was a far cry from the girl he’d seen just a day prior, though the scars were still fresh. Draco had Floo called him from Stark’s flat, begging him to come as quickly as he could. When Severus had stepped through the Floo, being brought to where the girl was, he’d understood immediately why. Her lips were sewn shut, and she looked like she’d cried herself to sleep. Stark looked worried out of his mind, holding her in his arms in the floor as he rested against a wall, rambling about sleepwalking and the things she’d done. He hadn’t thought to be worried about the rather large snake that was pretending to be a blanket until it was all over, and by then the realization that a basilisk could choose whether or not to petrify or kill or not was put to the wayside.

“At least you didn’t ride in here on the back of a giant lion, or some such thing.” Severus replied with a sniff. “Now, let’s see if we can make it to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures before someone conjures a chicken, shall we?”

...

As one would expect, panic ensued the moment people realized that there was a basilisk wrapped around the saviour of the wizarding world. They hadn’t even made it through the atrium. Many started conjuring or summoning roosters just to get them to crow, but there was truth to Jör’s words. He was immune to the sound, and would not be killed by such poultry things; pun intended. If they didn’t think of something soon, people were going to start flinging spells next.

“Excuse me!” She called out, silencing the crowd that had gathered. “Would someone direct us to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures? I need to register a basilisk familiar, if you don’t mind.”

...

No one in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures believed Jör was a real basilisk, at least not until he petrified a rat in front of them, and then they were both terrified and ecstatic. There was talk of getting Newt Scamander to come over just to see this. The Auror department was called, and then Hera had to answer a lot of questions, which both solved and raised more of them. Hagrid would get to repeat his education privately based on the testimony given by the basilisk that had been the one to kill Myrtle under the Imperius curse, which raised the question of who had cast it in the first place. She explained that it had been a student named Tom Riddle Jr who had cast the curse upon the basilisk when he could have just asked, though no one seemed to realize just who she was talking about, and many balked at the fact that she could let a creature such as that climb all over her when it talked so casually about eating people on request.

No one had raised a basilisk in some time, as just breeding them was illegal enough to get you thrown into Azkaban, and not many magicals survived seeing them born. A Familiar bond meant that it was protected, however, and that was something that the Aurory hadn’t had to deal with…ever. Given that this basilisk in particular had also killed a girl, not many were keen on allowing her to take it with her, but were uncertain of how to stop such a thing. Requests, orders, and demands to know where the basilisk had been found were sidestepped. Apparently ‘At school’ was not enough of an answer.

So, it was with great consternation that the Aurory let her go. She hadn’t bred the basilisk, and it was protected as a Familiar. There was nothing for them to do, though they did caution her against promoting the breeding of basilisks or trying to get them to be familiars. She’d assured them that the whole thing had been an accident, and that the basilisk in question had only probably bonded to her due to her ability to speak to it. She suggested that the basilisk’s extreme loneliness had played a part, and that she wasn’t going to suggest that her friends or anyone else hunt down a basilisk for their very own, lest they get eaten and/or petrified.

Once they let her go, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures went over tagging procedures to disguise Jör when he was among the muggles, and to mark him as a protected familiar among the wizards. There would be a lot of fuss for a while, even if the wizards paid attention to the marking, but that was to be expected with such an exotic Familiar. Newt Scamander actually did end up coming over just to see the basilisk, and was ecstatic to talk with Hera, even more so when he realized she could translate so that he could have conversations with Jör as well. He was thrilled to talk with Tony, and the two struck up an easy friendship. Professor Snape even talked with him about the use of certain ingredients in potions and how they affected animals verses their affect on people.

The Department of Mysteries was rather fascinated by Jör’s ability to shrink himself down, and made a note about the second set of eyelids. They hadn’t known about that, nor had they known that a basilisk could be choosy and use targeted petrification. They found that out when someone released a flock of roosters in the room, and Jör petrified those without killing or petrifying anyone else. She found out Jör could shrink himself even further down if he really wanted, watching as he shrank himself down to be able to wrap around her neck. When asked why he hadn’t done that in the first place, Jör shrugged as only he could, and just replied that pranking people was fun.

After visiting with Arthur Weasley, who had been as worried as any good father would be about a giant death dealing snake wrapped around a child they cared for, they decided to head over to the Magical Menagerie to get Jör some things for when he stayed wherever she and Tony were going to go. They still hadn’t talked about that, but Tony hoped that she would agree to come with him to the states for a bit. She could use some time to just be a teenager, or to even figure out what that meant. She had enough going on in her life with just going to magic school, the added stress of having someone trying to kill her every year, and the assimilation of who she had been with who she was now. There should be times where she could just let go of all the stress, but she’d had to be the adult for far too long, and now she didn’t know how to stop.

“I can only assume Jör is…” Snape trailed off, his eyes tracking Hera’s movement through the shop.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t want to say his name, thinks it will jinx things or something. Keeps calling him ‘Not me’.” Tony replied, doing the same. “She said what happens to him hasn’t yet, so they’re coexisting in the same time frame. I didn’t think that was possible, but-”

“Potter has a habit of making impossible things…possible.” Snape sighed in frustration. “She threw her soul across time and space. At this point, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“That’s what had happened with last night.” Tony revealed. She hadn’t said not to tell anyone, though he wouldn't be advertising anything to anyone else. This guy was her Master, her Mentor. “He’d had his lips sewn shut, and she took the punishment into herself so that the others could help him. They couldn’t remove the thread due to some physical compulsion, but she could. They were in the same room together, whether he was awake for it or not. How is that even possible?”

“Only the Norns could say for certain.” Snape shrugged.

“One more thing. She knows what it means, that the piece of that soul is in her scar. She might not know what it’s called, but she knows what the magic of it is, what it means.” Tony sighed, unsure of how to proceed. “One minute she looks ready to give up, and the next she’s trying to tell me it’s okay if I don’t want to be her brother anymore. It’s like she expects me to just…abandon her.”

“Considering the Dursleys treatment, it is not as surprising as one might think.” Snape supposed. “Eventually, Stark, it will sink in for her that you are not going anywhere. She does seem to bounce back from things with a resilience I wish I could have had in my youth.”

“Think you would have joined the DE’s if you’d had that?” Tony asked, looking over at him, curious.

“I was every mistake a Slytherin should have never made, but they are mistakes that I own, Stark. It does not do to dwell on what ifs.” Snape stated, looking over at him with snide condescension, before returning to his watch of Hera. “I do wonder though, if I had not been so pigheaded, would I have seen sense sooner? Would she have her parents now?”

Neither of them were expecting Hera to just pop up in front of them.

“You two should know that you’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are. Also, what ifs are destructive, so stop it.” Hera stated, arching an eyebrow at them both, making a show of pointing her finger at them both. Tony felt terribly caught out for some reason, but she didn’t stay long enough for him to object at all, disappearing back further into the shop once more.

“Was it really that difficult?” Hera sighed, once Dobby had returned Lucius Malfoy and the others to their human selves. They were seated in what she assumed was a room for large meetings at Malfoy Manor. For all she knew, it could have very well been their dining room. “All I asked was that you treat those around you with a modicum of dignity and respect.”

“I am a Lord, and I am to act like it.” Lucius countered haughtily. “I seem to remember you saying that as well.”

“A Lord does not have to act like an arse!” She snapped, pinning him with a look. “You think that you are above others, and in a sense that is true. You certainly have more money than most others, and you wield it like it’s power. You wield it well enough that others believe it too. After all, if you can afford to buy a politician, what can’t you do?”

“I see you understand then, so I fail to see the problem.” Lucius scoffed.

“The problem is that you’ve been bluffing for so long, you’ve forgotten what wielding true power should look like.” Hera replied, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“And you do?” One of the others…Nott Sr, she realized.

“You watched me reverse a ritual on the fly and disembody your Dark Lord with nothing more than a thought, and all because no one had told me it couldn’t be done.” Hera reminded him, with a sneer. “You then watched me create an illusion so lifelike that it fooled Minister Fudge.”

“It didn’t fool the Headmaster.” Professor Snape quietly reminded her, a cautionary tone to remind her to rein in her mounting anger. She gave him a subtle nod in thanks, and he returned to sipping on his tea.

“It wasn’t designed to fool the Headmaster, and I was admittedly already suffering from magical exhaustion and doing magic I wasn’t sure was even possible in the first place.” Hera sighed, admittedly frustrated. “Perhaps if I had put a bit more effort into it, he and the Minister wouldn’t be at each other’s throats just now.”

“The Dark Lord would have-”

“Your Dark Lord used parlour tricks and scare tactics the way you lot use money and reputation. It wasn’t particularly powerful, but it was a smart move. I’ll give him that.” She countered, to the outrage of those present; holding up a hand to stop their protests. “In the beginning, all he had to do was bribe you with everything you ever wanted. It works on spoiled children, so why not you? When the results weren’t quite so forthcoming, he blamed others. You went with the lie not because you believed him, but because you already blamed others for your problems, and making someone else pay is always more fun. He fed you shock and fear in equal measure, and you were damned before you thought to care about it, lured in by the illusion of power he gave you. The only reason he was such an unstoppable force was the fact that he had you right where he wanted you, an army to do his bidding. You gave him your power. If you don’t want it back, who am I to stop you?”

She stood up to leave, but didn’t get very far.

“You mean that literally, don’t you?” Lucius asked quietly. Hera turned slowly back to the table of people, and nodded. “How do you know that?”

He wasn’t asking as if to mock her, and was genuinely curious. It is after judging this that she gave in, walking over to him, and gesturing for him to hold out his forearm.

“Who among you can see magic?” Hera asked, looking to them all. “I mean the way it moves, the way it feels, the layers of it, how it interacts with other magics, things of the like.”

None of them could.

“Dobby?” She called, and was rewarded with a now familiar pop as the elf in question stood just a ways away from her.

“What is Harry Potter be needings, Miss?” Dobby asked fondly, before glancing with wariness at the others present.

“Could you get Draco for me, please?”

He was gone a second later, and Draco was quickly walking into the room not five minutes later.

“You pulled me from a winning hand, I’ll have you know.” Draco commented lazily, before looking about the room. “What did you need?”

“May I cast a projection of your magic?” Hera asked hesitantly.

Draco looked thoughtful, but at least it wasn’t a no. “Why?”

“If I look close enough, I can see different layers of magic. I want to show them what the Dark Mark is doing to their magic, but for that I need-”

“You need a control group.” Draco realized, nodding. “Alright, Hera, let’s see it. I’m kind of curious now.”

Hera made a series of minute hand gestures, before there was something like a glowing nervous-system next to Draco.

“This is a basic projection of Draco’s magic. It’s not detailed, but you get the picture. See how light it is? It doesn’t mean that he has a Light inclined core. It just means that his magic isn’t fighting anything in his own body. It’s healthy.” Hera explained, before turning to Lucius. “Can I show a projection of your magic, so you can see the difference?”

Lucius nodded absentmindedly, distracted by the representation of his son’s magic. Hera made another few minute hand gestures, and they were now looking at another glowing nervous system, but this one was quite different. It wasn’t glowing as brightly, dimming, and looked sickly. Hera gasped at the difference. Lucius was by no means an old man, and even then it should not have looked this…drained.

“How are all of you not dead?” Hera asked, looking at the network before her. “How did you not notice this was happening to you?”

“When the mark was first given, there was a surge of power.” Professor Snape answered as the others took in the image before them. “Like a drug, it gave a feeling of euphoria, and by the time I even noticed the pain was there, I was used to carrying it. It was a bit like wearing ankle weights that way, I suppose. I only truly realized how much weight I had been carrying the moment you took it away.”

“This is why he’s as powerful as he is. He took the magic from all of you, and he could because you offered it willingly, whether you realized that was what you were giving him or not.” Hera realized, still staring at the network. “He used a good bit of this magic just trying to bring himself back. If you take it back, your magic, he’d have to get by on his own…or use up those who are still loyal to him.”

She vanished the projections, and looked around at them all.

“I chose not to turn you over to the Ministry for one reason. Your children love you. It’s the exact thing He will use against you.” She informed them. “You all should take the time to decide what you want to do, and ask yourselves if you’re comfortable with being used up, if you want that parasitic magic used on your children.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“I chose not to turn you over to the Ministry for one reason. Your children love you. It’s the exact thing He will use against you.” She informed them. “You all should take the time to decide what you want to do, and ask yourselves if you’re comfortable with being used up, if you want that parasitic magic used on your children.”

Chapter 44

Lucius stumbled out of the room that had been set up as the girl had asked, looking for more shaken and haggard than his usual well kept appearance normally allowed. The room had been warded against letting sound out, and now he knew why. He, like the other four, had agreed to go through the process that would free them of the Dark Mark. She’d asked him, within the privacy of the warded room, how far he was willing to go for the protection of his family. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for them, no measure he wouldn’t take to insure their safety, and she’d taken him at his word.

The screams she tore from him as she wrenched the Dark Mark from his magic were far beyond anything he’d done under a crucio. She’d warned him if Magic sensed him insincere, it would exact a fatal price, but he’d meant it. He was fairly certain he could taste his own blood in his mouth right now, but as he stumbled into his wife’s open arms, he felt better than he had in years. Draco looked to Potter, who nodded while leaning against the door, before making his way to embrace him.

As Lucius looked around, he could see others hugging their wives and children in the same manner he was. There was only one more left; Nott. The man looked nervous, but strode forward when Potter beckoned for him. All those that had already gone through the cleansing looked to each other with knowing eyes. They did not believe that the man would make it out of that room alive, each of them moving slightly closer to the young Nott boy as a result.

When the boy let out a choking sob, Lucius was by his side in seconds, whispering consoling words. It was a miracle that they could have had this chance at all, even more so that Potter had managed to save four out of the five of them, and they all knew it. However, all were surprised when Nott Sr stormed out of the room, glared at them all, and then made his way out. The Dark Mark was still visible on his arm, and Lucius knew something was wrong. Potter stumbled into view seconds later with a completely bewildered looking expression on her face, a small dagger sticking out of her abdomen, barely making it out of the room before crumpling to the floor.

“Severus!” Lucius called out, even as he’s rushing towards her. “Potter’s been injured!”

...

He’d known the moment he left the room that something bad was going to happen. Potter couldn’t keep out of trouble for longer than five seconds, and of course she would save Nott Sr. for last. Severus had tried to warn the girl that Nott wasn’t the type that would willingly risk his life to save his son, but she’d argued that he’d deserved the chance to prove it. Well, the man had certainly done that; with a stab wound. Potter looked oddly pale, Lucius by her side, lying on the floor as she was…and slightly blue. That couldn’t be good.

“Don’t tell Tony?” Potter pleaded, seeing him arrive.

“You were stabbed, and you want me not to tell your new caregiver?” Severus reprimanded, not even bothering to spare her a glance as he cut away the cloth around the wound. “Any particular reason why, Potter?”

“He’ll want to go after him, and I can’t let him do that.” She explained, wincing in pain when he began to remove the dagger. Her grip on Lucius’ hand tightening, and Lucius’ face twisted into a grimace as a result.

“No offense, Lady Potter, but your brother is a muggle.” Lucius pointed out through the grimace, as if the girl needed reminding of that fact. “I hardly see what one muggle could do against a wizard like that.”

“Then you weren’t paying attention before. Nott Sr. isn’t a Wizard anymore. Magic exacted her price for his betrayal. I thought it would be life, the price, but…” Potter replied, her voice coming out in breathless puffs as Severus worked. “Besides…My brother is one muggle, yes, but he is also the world’s most talented weapons designer, as well as one of the richest men in the world…He finds out I was attacked, and it won’t matter if Nott Sr. has magic or not…Tony will go after that man with all the power being the Merchant of Death grants him,...because at the core of it all that is who he is, and he will remind you why you feared muggles as a child...I’d say that’s reason enough not to tell him. Don’t you?”

To say that Tony was pissed would be an understatement. He was livid, enraged, absolutely infuriated. Damn it, he was going to have to invent a new word to express just how angry he was. He’d entrusted Snape with Hera’s safety. Not only had that man failed, she’d nearly died from a stab wound. They’d caught the guy who’d done it, and he would be persecuted thanks to the dagger that he’d used that they’d already traced back to the man; eye witnesses helped.

Hera had been taken to St. Mungo’s, where she was treated, not that they’d had to do much. Snape had at least known enough to stabilize her for transport, even going so far as healing the wound as best he could. St. Mungo’s had managed to keep the reporters at bay, which was nice. They were also very interested in how she’d managed to cleanse several suspected Death Eaters of their Dark Marks, which brought the Aurors from the DMLE, those Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries, and Minister Fudge; who he was really beginning to become annoyed by.

The man had not wanted to let Hera go to the US with him, as if he could have stopped them. Tony’s custody was iron clad, he’d made sure of it, and as such it was accepted that he would oversee her magical side as well; if he was needed. She didn’t need his custody in the magical world, not where she was Lady Potter now, and because of that Fudge had no control over her. When the idiot in that stupid boiler hat of his tried to claim that her minor status negated her claim of Ladyship, Tony smirked as he reminded him that it had been because of his idea to host the Tri-Wizard Tournament at Hogwarts that she even had it at all, and goblin contracts were even more iron clad than his own. Tony respected that about them.

He kind of wondered how long they could keep the Unspeakables from finding out who she had been. There was no way they wouldn’t be interested in that. The former DE’s were giving statements to the Aurors. Of course this brings the graveyard scene back into question, which brings in Dumbledore, which brings in Fudge again, not that the people of St. Mungo’s seemed to mind all that much. They’d been having the time of their lives, tossing people out of the hospital left and right. It certainly was entertaining to watch. If he had known they liked doing that, he would have come here when she’d had the thread through her lips.

At the current moment, he was camped out in her hospital room, waiting for her to wake up. This seemed to be a recurring thing for her, and he was reminded that the Weasley boys had tried to warn him before. This was what happened because of her Saving People Thing ^TM. This is why they thought he would bail. She’d not been out of that school for longer than a week, and she’d already thrown herself into danger at least twice that he knew of.

...

“Ugh…” Hera groans from the bed. “Remind me never to get stabbed again. That was awful.”

“Words to live by, really.”

She froze, before groaning again - this time in dread - before opening her eyes. “They told you?”

“Well, you were stabbed, you see.” Tony deadpanned. “That tends to be a thing that one would notify the family on. The dagger had a curse on it, something about making you continue to bleed out no matter the healing. You’re lucky you aren’t dead. We’re a blood match, by the way, in case you didn’t know before.”

“You…You donated blood for me?” Hera asked, shocked out of clearing the sleep away from her eyes. What a contrast to the Dursleys, she thought to herself. The look he was giving her made her want to grimace though. “This is a normal thing families do for each other, isn’t it?”

“It is, though it’s usually not needed much. They had blood replenishers too, so I didn’t need to donate a lot.” Tony sighed, apparently choosing not to pursue that train of thought. “Why didn’t Snape stay in the room with you?”

“The man was already twitchy, and Snape made him more nervous; not less. I thought having Snape leave the room would calm him some.” Hera admitted with a sigh. “I wanted to give Nott the chance to prove he loved his son. Snape had warned me Nott wasn’t the type to risk his life for his son, and that as soon as he heard what the price could be for failure or insincerity, Nott would turn on me. I should have listened.”

“Yes, you should have.” Came Snape’s voice from the doorway, as the man himself stepped into the room. “I warned you he would turn on you, but you refused to heed my words. Now, maybe you’ll think twice before sending me away like some errant toddler.”

“It’s good to see you too, Professor.” Hera responded with a wide grin.

“Cheeky brat.” Snape grumbled, before walking over and setting down a jar of off white colored cream. “When I had to cut off a part of your shirt, I saw a rather alarming amount of scars, Potter. I doubt you’ll tell anyone how you got them, but this is in case you want to lessen their severity, and may even heal some of the damage done.”

He was out the door before she could thank him.

“If he keeps doing things like that, I might begin to think he actually cares.” Tony remarked idly. Hera snorts, but she can’t help but agree.

Hera found airplane travel to be an unnerving experience. While there were no problems with the flight itself, Hera found being boxed in a flying metal tube with no way out a bit claustrophobic. Tony had his own private jet, which was a mercy, because Hera wasn’t sure how she would have handled traveling like the trips the Dursleys had described. Hermione had described some of her experiences with airplanes, which had not boosted Hera’s confidence one bit. Turbulence was the least of her worries, but add lots of people to a small space and screaming babies beside, and Hera did not like how she would have reacted to that.

She hadn’t wanted to travel the muggle way, but Tony explained that he hadn’t traveled through regular means in the first place, and if he went back the same way he’d gotten to Britain, there would be talk. One could not book a flight for yesterday more than a few times without raising some questions. So she stamped down her nervousness as best as possible, and if she happened to pace the length of the plane several times, she couldn’t be faulted. Tony managed to keep her calm, mostly, having realized that putting an extremely powered being inside of a small flying metal tube was perhaps not the best of ideas; this being her first airplane flight. They touched down in New York, where they were to met with MACUSA agents before heading to California where Tony lived.

“Tony…” Hera trailed off, having been looking out the windows while Tony filled out paperwork. “Tony, what are those?”

“The Skyscrapers? Why do you ask?” Tony answered absentmindedly. Looking up, he noted which ones she was pointing to. “Those are called the World Trade Center, or the Twin Towers…Why?”

“Those weren’t there when I was here last time.” Hera murmured, looking at him meaningfully, hoping he would understand.

“They were built in the 70’s.” One of the clerks objected.

“Is this from the future knowledge stuff?” Tony asked, instantly taking her seriously, ignoring the clerks now.

“Yeah. It wasn’t needed info at the time, so it’s a bit fuzzy.” Hera nodded, her brows furrowing in worry as she went back to staring at the buildings. “Sometime before 2012, I know. Does 9/11 mean anything to anyone? I don’t know what that means, just that it’s bad, and those buildings won’t be there anymore after that. I’m sorry.”

“Is she for real right now?” The clerk asked, looking to Tony.

“Sometimes I see things, future things. I don’t always know what it means, and they aren’t prophecies.” Hera apologized, even though that particular talent wasn’t how she knew this. “Professor Trelawney said I’d get better at it though.”

“Cousin of mine is like that, says Seeing is a curse because none of it makes sense till after it’s happened.” One of the other clerks nodded in commiseration. “We’ll let the appropriate people know, though I can’t promise anything will come of it.”

“Now, I understand things are a bit different across the pond, so I’ll need to update you on the regulations and things here.” The original clerk stated, bringing them back to the original purpose of being there. “Where Mr. Stark is your brother, he’s allowed to know about magic, but his being a public figure puts a lot of things at risk; the Statute of Secrecy being the top of the list.”

“We have a plan for that. I’m hoping to get involved in politics here soon, though I might have to change a few things, and start advocating for mutant rights.” Tony replied, before Hera could comment.

“Mutant?” Nice clerk asked, to which Hera promptly turned blue and back again. “Ah, I see. Anything magical she does would then just be thought of as a mutant ability. We should have thought of that.”

“It won’t be just to hide as a mutant.” Hera felt the need to point out. “It’s to clear the way so that one day, we might not have to hide at all. Just…call it another one of my future knowing things.”

“You think witches and wizards will have to come out of hiding?” Not nice clerk shrieked. “Why would we do that?”

“I said might, not will.” Hera corrected, though this did little to mollify the man.

“Moving on.” Nice clerk interjected, seeing that his coworker was about to lose his mind. “Inherited titles don’t mean the same thing here. I know you’re Lady Potter there, but it won’t hold the same sort of weight. You understand?”

“Fine with me.” Hera agreed enthusiastically. “I really only took it because I was forced to compete in the Tri-wizard tournament against my will. It allowed me to be magically emancipated, so at least it was good for something.”

“We heard about that too. Nasty bit of business. Don’t know what they were thinking, holding a competition like that with school children.” Nice clerk grumbled.

“Especially with a Potter in attendance.” Hera snickered. “Pretty sure there’s a curse on the Potter line, something along the lines of ‘May you live in interesting times’.”

“You seem to weather it well.” Nice clerk commented with a slight smile. “Now, I understand titles usually come with estates, land, and if the family is old enough…slaves. That’s not allowed in the US, magical or no.”

“How does that apply to symbiotic species like House Elves?” Hera asked with a grimace. “Dobby enjoyed freedom, but wanted to protect me. Winky didn’t handle being forcibly freed well, and took to drinking butterbeer until Dobby pleaded for me to take on her bond.”

“House elves are a tricky bunch.” Nice clerk agreed. “They receive pay, lodgings, clothes, and days off?”

Hera nodded enthusiastically.

“You got them to agree to all that?” Nice clerk asked in surprise. “How?”

“Work uniforms aren’t freeing clothes, and they get to decide what their work clothes look like. Days off are there so they can be better workers. Pay is for their clothes, or when they need to take sick leave or vacation, whatever they want really. Lodgings are because I refuse to treat a magical being with less respect than any other, and everyone should have a space that is just theirs.” Hera recited from memory the list she’d come up with when interrogated by Winky. “My friend Hermione is hoping we can talk them into being free and still working if they wish, but any House Elf I talk to insists they’ll lose moons if freed. Dobby wasn’t free long enough for me to know if it would have killed him, but he took a job at Hogwarts, so there was ample ambient magic to feed from.”

“We’ll have to take you over to the Body for Protection of Magical Species.” Nice clerk stated after a moment of thought. “They’ll go over the guidelines with you, maybe give your friend some ideas. Also, you and Mr. Stark should see about stopping by the Office for Magic Relations and Education, the Fedural Bureau of Covert Vigilance and No-maj Obliviation, and The Wizarding Resources Department, and the Major Investigation Department.”

“So, we’ll make a day of it, and visit every department in MACUSA.” Tony decided with a sharp nod.

“Our plane leaves in less than an hour!” Hera objected, protective instincts on high alert. “Also, you’re not going anywhere near a department of obliviators!”

“Private jet leaves whenever we say it does. I own it. I can just tell em we decided to take in the sights, Hera. You’ve never been to New York, so we should do that while we’re here anyway, and if we take a little longer than the norm, who would say anything to an enthusiastic teen about her first trip to the US?” Tony countered. “They’re not going to obliviate me, Hera. I’d bet anything it’s to update their surveillance, and we still have to talk to them about integrating magic with tech. I want in on that.”

He was headed towards the nearest sign while she struggled internally not to forcibly stop him, before alarms rushes through her, and she’s following at top speed. If he was going to wander around MACUSA, he wasn’t going to go alone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 45

It happened in a flash.

“Stop the car!”

That was the only warning Tony got before Hera was bolting out of the car like her ass was on fire as soon as the door was open, their driver having barely stopped at all. He wasn’t even sure where they were, but he followed after her, or tried. Dock workers, loading men, heavy equipment. What was Hera chasing after? What had she seen? She weaved through the workers like she knew where she was going, while he had to stumble through and apologize every five seconds, losing sight of her far too often.

When he finally caught up to her, it was to the site of a chemical spill. People were running around frantic, trying to get everything cleaned up. There was a boy flat on his back in the middle of the place, eyes staring almost at nothing. Hera was on her knees, crouched at the boy’s head, offering words of comfort. A man Tony assumed was the boy’s father at his side.

“Hera!” Tony shouted, pulling up short when he realized her eyes were just as sightless as the boy’s. Crouching down with them, he got to work. “What do you need?”

“You need to look through my pockets. I can’t trust that I’ll find it as I am.” Hera explained, before gesturing vaguely towards the pocket in question. “Left pocket, third down. It will be labeled Oculus. Look for a deep orange colour.”

“What will it do?” The man asked, as Tony quickly searched through the magically expanded pocket in question. Upon seeing this, the man hissed. “You two are magic?!”

“I’m not. She is.” Tony whispered. “That a problem? Because I’m sure whatever she’s got me searching for will help your kid. Maybe. It’s either risk that, or wait and see what the docs can do, which might be nothing.”

The man looked grim, thin lipped, but he didn’t say anything; his attention diverted back to the crying kid in seconds.

“Tony, I need you to call Professor Snape. I can only imagine what ungodly hour it is over there, but I need to know the ratio of potions he’s been giving me vs what’s normally meant for the average witch or wizard.” Hera explained, absentmindedly running her fingers through the boy’s hair in an effort to calm him.

“Oh, I bet he’ll just love that.” Tony snorted, but got out his phone to dial. Snape had a home phone, and would not be at Hogwarts during the summer. “Anyone call 911?”

“Paramedics are on their way.” The man with them answered. “Jim put in the call for me. They’ll still be a while trying to find us, and we can’t move him.”

“Then let’s hope this works.” Tony replied, before dialing the number.

…

“You’ve barely been gone a day, Stark.” Severus grumbled once he’d answered the phone. “What could possibly have gone wrong in that short amount of time? Do you even know what time it is over here?”

“There’s been a chemical spill, something Rand Oil and Chemicals was moving – A kid…Matt Murdock was hit with the stuff. Paramedics are still trying to navigate the minefield of buildings to get through the docks. Hera found him. Demanded we stop the car, and then bolted out of it like her ass was on fire, like she knew exactly where to go. I find her just as blinded as he is, still don’t know how that happened.”

“File it under her saving people thing.” Severus sighed. “Continue.”

“Hera asked me to get the Oculus potion to give the kid, but she doesn’t know the ratio to try, and what you have to give her is different than others.”

“Is this Murdock a magical?” Severus asked, now sitting up on the couch he’d fallen asleep on.

“I don’t think so. He’s nine. The father says there’s been no strange occurrences, but he’s gone a lot; long hours at work. So, I’m not sure.”

“You can’t give potions to a muggle.” Severus objected.

“…Hera says you can.”

~Give me the phone~ He hears, and then…

“Professor, it can be done. I know it can. It’ll work, but we’re running out of time. If we don’t do something soon, he’ll never see again.”

“Then he’ll never see again. Lot’s of people live full happy lives blind, Potter.” Severus pointed out. Maybe he should have gone to the states with them, at least then he would be able to see the trouble she was getting into already.

“Trust me! Please? That’s all I’m asking!”

“Potter, if this doesn’t work, there will be side effects. There could be side effects even if it does.” Severus warned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He was met with silence. “Very well. You have to have a dose that’s five times what I would give a normal witch or wizard. You would need nearly the whole bottle. A muggle could…theoretically…take a fifth of what one would give a witch or wizard. So…Have the kid take one swallow of the potion. Only one. Anymore than that, and it would damage more than it would help.”

“Thank you, Professor!”

- Click -

Groaning, he managed to make his way to bed, planning on pretending he hadn’t had that conversation in the morning.

…

“One swallow for Matt, that’s what he said.” Hera answered, once Tony had hung up the phone for her. “Any word on the paramedics?”

“Still nothing. We have workers trying to find them now.” Someone off to the side answered.

“Hey, you sure this will work?” The man’s voice came from the boy’s side; his father, she realized.

“No.” She admitted. “The eyes are delicate, so no one’s ever tested this particular potion on a non-magical person, and there’s no telling what it will do because of the acid. It’s meant to counter a curse that blinds people, not heal acid damage. This is completely experimental. I don’t even know if it will work on me.”

“And you’re still willing to take it?” The man asked, alarmed. She nodded. “Matt? Buddy? What do you think?”

“…I…I’ll try it…” Came the soft reply of the crying boy still lying on the ground.

The world was on fire. Things were coming at him that couldn’t possibly fit in the room. A truck was running him over; echoing, vibrating, thrumming. Only…none of it was actually inside the room. Those were things that were happening outside. He could see them without seeing them, almost like an outline. Was this the side effects that professor spoke of? Matt cried out when it looked like yet another truck would run him down, this time a big rig.

“Matt!”

“Dad!”

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” His dad tried to reassure him, and it was nice to feel his dad’s arms around him, but his focus was on the girl cringing in the doorway.

“You…You can come in if you want.” Matt called out to her, calming down now that his father was with him. “You tried to help me.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work.” She apologized, slowly walking into the room. “It healed me, but I’m different.”

“Magic. I remember.” Matt nodded. “Why can I see you but not my dad?”

“…What?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I can see his outline, sort of make out where he is, hear his heart beat, almost see it, but it’s weird. I see things that are outside as if they’re in the room, and the louder it is the more solid it looks, until it starts vibrating.” Matt explained, squeezing his dad’s hand when the man stilled. “Were you blue before? I don’t remember that.”

“You…You can see that?” The girl asked, surprised and alarmed all at once. Her heart rate picked up quite a bit as a result. “What do I look like to you?”

“Blue skin, lines, red eyes, crown of small horns.” Matt insisted with enthusiasm. “That’s so cool!”

“Matt, she’s danger-”

“So?! She tried to help me. It’s not her fault the plan didn’t work!” Matt insisted, pleading with his father to understand.

“Your father’s right.” The girl mumbled, looking away. “I am dangerous. I should…I should go.”

“Dad!” Matt scolded when the girl had gone, looking to where the outline of his father was. There was his heartbeat, and the puffs of breath that helped him better outline the man, enough that Matt could tell his dad had on his ‘concerned’ face.

…

“Was it the toxic waste, or what you gave him?” She hears once she’s walked down the hall a ways, and turns around to face the man.

“I don’t know, Mr. Murdock. He was exposed to that stuff longer than I was, and I didn’t have nearly as much of it hit me as he did.” Hera admitted, fidgeting in her nervousness. He didn't need to know that she'd tried taking the damage into herself the way she had with Loki; it hadn't worked quite like she'd hoped it would anyway. “I have to take stronger medicine than most when something affects me, so I wasn’t sure how much he could have, or how it would affect him. Maybe if I had-”

“What he’s described, did that happen to you too?” Mr. Murdock asked quietly.

“Sort of.” Hera nodded, tilting her head as she began listening to more than what was around her. “I can hear…Tony fussing at the Doctors…it’s faint, not loud like Matt described…Tony’s demanding specialists look at your son’s eyes. Doesn’t like how they treated him when they found out you didn’t have any money.”

“I know what I said before, but…Would you…would you stay with my son?” Mr. Murdock asked suddenly. “I need to go stop Mr. Stark before he gets us kicked out.”

“Three floors down.” Hera said, when Mr. Murdock made to leave. He paused, uncertain of what to make of that, it seemed. “You’ll find him shouting at a doctor three floors down, near the elevator. He’s demanding to speak to the Director of the Hospital. I think he means to buy it.”

“That’s almost worse.” Mr. Murdock mutters, before hauling off down the hallway towards the nearest elevator.

...

“So…Wanna learn Braille with me?” Matt blurted, when the girl…Hera? walked back into the room.

“Sounds fun.” She agreed with a smile. “Wanna learn Morse Code with me? I don’t think we’re staying here long, but both those things are great for long distance communications and stuff.”

“Cool. It’ll be like learning a secret language!” Matt agreed, with a smile. “I’ve always wanted to be able to do that.”

...

When Tony and John managed to get back to the room, Hera and Matt were already in a full on conversation about inventions. They’d discovered Matt could read normal books as long as the printing was a little raised, and it had snowballed from there. What about paper with raised lines on it? Ink that raised up a little as it dried? Were there typewriters that wrote in braille? Computers? Surely some of this had to exist already, and if not Hera planned to make it happen.

Tony got curious when he realized that the kid wasn’t just able to see Hera, but was also able to track him and John about the room. Acting on instinct, Tony tossed a marble across the room, something that had John ready to kick his ass, but the kid just caught said marble in mid air like it was nothing. That just got the two kids even more excited, thinking of even more things to do and create. It was like they had known each other all their lives. John and Tony had been dealing with the lawyers from Rand Oil and Chemicals all that morning, and Tony had no doubt that while the man could still knock ’em out in the ring, he wasn’t as equipped to fight a lawyer; Tony was, and made sure that by the end of that meeting, Rand Oil and Chemicals were parting with a good chunk of their money.

John hadn’t wanted to be a charity case, but Tony had been insistent. This wasn’t charity. This was for the kid’s future. If John wanted to move somewhere, rebuild his life, settle old debts, he could still do all that and give that kid an expensive education. Matt apparently wanted to go to law school, something Hera encouraged wholeheartedly. Tony took a bracing sigh, really wishing he didn’t have to be the one to call an end to this strangely eventful trip to New York.

Obadiah was supposed to handle the press, but apparently there’d been a mix up. As soon as the door had opened, the pictures started snapping. They’d had little warning, but Hera had at least seen them before they’d stepped outside. She wasn’t happy about it, but at least she hadn’t been caught completely by surprise. That would have ended in a frightened teleport to who knows where.

“I’m sorry about this, Hera.” Tony sighed. She was hesitating to even leave the plane, and he couldn’t blame her. “It was bound to happen sometime, I had just hoped Obadiah would make sure it was later. You don’t have to say anything. We’ll just ignore them. In fact, that’s my go to sometimes.”

“I’m just surprised no one stopped us in New York.” She admitted, with a grin that could have been a grimace. "We were there for a while."

He’d been prepared for the camera flashes to pick up in speed too when they stepped out of the plane, casually shielding her behind him until she could get her bearings. The questions they asked were obscene! He was used to being asked about his playboy lifestyle, but to insinuate that every woman in his life was someone he had or would fuck was just…That they would assume he was fucking such a young girl, or that Hera was only after him for his money…This is not how he’d wanted to introduce her to the public.

“Excuse me?” Hera asked, her voice carrying over the crowd in what he knew was a subtle wandless sonorus charm, and the crowd silenced. “A tart, or a thief? Is that what you’re calling me? And these are your only two options?*”

“I didn’t say-” A reporter exclaimed, now blushing brightly.

“You insinuated I am either manipulating Tony for his money, or that he is rogering a fifteen year old girl; neither of which are palatable things to either of us. He’s my brother, you arse! Are you really suggesting he’s into incest and pedophilia?”

“I notice you didn’t answer the money part.” Another reporter, this time a woman, commented snidely.

“I didn’t think I had to.” Hera snapped, glaring at the woman in question. “I’m a fifteen year old girl, you imbecile, and he’s my brother. But just to alleviate your fears that I might be taking advantage of Tony for his money, I’m rich in my own right. My parents left me a sizable fortune when they were brutally murdered. I was one year old, in case you go thinking I orchestrated that. Now, are you lot done acting like heathens, or are we free to get on with our day? We have better things to do than sate your curiosity. Bloody vultures, the lot of you.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, kid,” Someone commented. “coming to our country and telling us how we should behave.”

“Really?” Hera asked with a lazy drawl, and Tony just knows they’re in trouble judging by the shark like smile she gives them all. “Because from where I’m standing, my going to another country and telling you what to do is the most American thing I could have ever done. I’m fitting in already.”

Tony starts coughing, having tried to laugh and snort at the same time, and guides her away from the reporters before they can recover from the burn. She looks absolutely mortified, embarrassed at what they’d called her, the things they’d suggested, and probably more than a little at how she’d responded to it all. Her face is beet red, and she’s staring down at her shoes. They go through the usual checkpoints, make it into the limo he’d called ahead for, and she still hasn’t said anything by the time it’s all over. He’s going to have to do something about this.

“Damn, Frost, I don’t think they’ll ever recover from a burn that severe.” Tony chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. She looks up, giving a small hesitant grin, and he sighed. “If you hadn’t said something, I would have, and it probably would have been a lot worse. Might have to make you my PR person.”

“Please don’t.” Hera groaned, which started him snickering again.

“What made you think to act like that towards them?” Tony asked, out of curiosity.

“Oh, I asked Draco for advice. His dad has to deal with that sort of thing all the time, and he said his father just looks down his nose at them and treats them like they’re children when they act like that.” Hera admitted sheepishly. “So that’s what I did…sort of. Might have gotten a bit too enthusiastic about it though.”

“Maybe next time they’ll rein themselves in.” Tony suggested, though it was doubtful. “Alright. Let’s get home. We can get settled in, get some food ordered, and figure out how to sibling for the next three months.”

“Get food ordered?” Hera asked, confused. “Do you not…Well, I mean, you haven’t been home in a while, but you’re rich so I assumed you got people to go to the grocers for you. Did you forget?”

“Hera, I’m a twenty four year old man-child who runs a business and invents things that explode.” Tony reminded her. “I don’t even know how to cook."

AN: Quote is from Peggy Carter in Captain America: The First Avenger

While I'm sure she meant it entirely different than how Hera said it, channeling a strong female character like that in this series, I couldn't not be inspired by her.

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Hera, I’m a twenty four year old man-child who runs a business and invents things that explode.” Tony reminded her. “I don’t even know how to cook."

Chapter 46

“Tony, you said a house.” Hera stated, staring up at the place.

“Technically, I said home.” Tony countered easily, walking ahead. “Besides, it is. Four wall. Roof. Doors. House.”

“This is a manse, Tony, not a house. A mansion is not a house.” Hera objected. “If it were any bigger, I’d be calling it a bloody castle.”

“It’s not that bad.” He denied, vehemently.

“What could you possibly have that needs this much space?” She demanded, gesturing to the mansion he called a house. “A llama farm?”

Tony snickers. “Llamas? Why would I have llamas?”

“I don’t know. You’re rich, and rich people make weird purchases like that.” Hera shrugged. “Lucius Malfoy has a flock of albino peacocks he’s obscenely proud of for some odd reason.”

“Cars.” Tony admitted, completely unrepentant. “Really really nice very expensive cars.”

“I rest my case.” Hera chuckles.

“Come on, Princess. Let me show you the castle.” Tony declared, with an exaggerated bow, holding out the crook of his arm for her. “You might like the workshop. The way you were talking about inventing with that kid, you might want a workshop of your own.”

...

Meeting the bots had been fun. Dumm-E loved to play fetch, and was the oldest of them. Then there was U and Butterfingers, both of which followed Dumm-E’s lead. Jarvis was the youngest of them, but he was also the most developed; a learning AI that sounded exactly like Tony’s beloved father figure Edwin Jarvis. She had a feeling he was going to be sassy with that dry wit, and she fully planned to help him develop that sass to it’s maximum British^TM level of brilliance. He was already calling her Little Miss, despite Tony’s best efforts to get the AI to call her Hera.

“Leave him be, Tony.” Hera chided teasingly. “If Jarvis wants to call me Little Miss, let him.”

“He’s a learning AI, Hera.” Tony objected. “He needs to learn.”

“He is.” Hera replied knowingly, causing the man to pull up short. “Don’t worry, Jarvis, us Brits will stick together.”

“Though I sound British, Little Miss, you are the first British person I have met.” Jarvis replied.

“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.” Hera chirped. This slow grin started spreading across Tony’s face as he listened to the conversation. “There are three major rules for being British. First, have a favorite tea. I know you can’t drink it, but still. There are British people who don’t like tea, and still have a favorite. It’s that important.”

“Is Darjeeling an acceptable choice?” Jarvis asked, and she could practically hear the amusement coming from the AI.

“It is if you can defend it.” Hera replied simply. “Now. Second rule is that you must have a favorite football team. I think the Americans call it soccer here.”

“I shall have to take time to consider my options.” Jarvis stated. “I am uncertain whether or not I care for the sport.”

“I’m not sure we can be friends anymore.” Hera sighed dramatically, a hand draped over her forehead. “Which brings us to the third and most important rule of being British. Sass. How much sass do you have?”

“I assure you, Little Miss, I have an appropriate level of…sass.” Jarvis replied, making Hera grin.

“Alright then, Mr. Sass, let’s find me a bedroom with a connecting room for a workspace.” Hera challenged. “If I’m going to help make tech more compatible with magic, the first thing I have to do is figure out how to protect you.”

She’d found a room with Jarvis’ help that had two walk in closets, one of which she swears is bigger than the actual room. Tony quickly went about making plans. They could set up the room that was meant to be the actual bedroom as some sort of hang out spot for when she had friends over; it really was smaller than the walk in closets. One of the walk in closets would be her workspace, while the other would be her bedroom. She’d get to work designing the room she wanted, or at least adding magical touches to it, and then ward the rooms to hell and back to make sure no one who shouldn’t be in there could get in.

Tony wanted to make sure that she felt comfortable enough to be herself here, and insisted on being the one to pay for everything. She didn’t feel like she was worth all that trouble, and didn’t want him to feel like he had to buy her things just to get her to like him. At least now she understood what the Weasleys had meant in that regard, and it had been a little amusing to be on this side of it when explaining things to Tony. He looked mortified, but still stubbornly insistent, and so she let him have it. She could always pay for things she wanted to add later.

They were going to order in this time, something she was reluctant about, though she saw the sense in it. Those reporters were a fact of life Tony was used to dealing with. That was normal for him, and while it had slowly become more prevalent in her life, it hadn’t reached a point where she just didn’t think about it anymore. She’d rather avoid that while she could.

“Damn it, Tony, you don’t even know if she was his!” An unknown male argued.

“Jarvis, who is that?” Hera asked quietly, knowing the AI would hear her. She’d been mapping out the space, asking Jarvis for suggestions, thrilled with the holographic renditions he made. Hermione would be so jealous.

“That is Obadiah Stane, Sir’s godfather.” Jarvis answered, matching her volume.

“He’s going to become a problem later.” Hera sighed. “Could you do something for me? Can you spy on him without getting caught? I don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

“I can do that.” Jarvis agreed. “Why do you want me to watch him? He seems worried about Sir.”

“Because he’s going to become a problem later.” Hera replied firmly. “I know it’s frustrating, but I can’t explain how I know that yet.”

“This is to protect Sir?” Jarvis asked, hesitant.

“This is to protect Tony. Yes.” Hera confirmed.

“Then I will do what I can, Little Miss.” Jarvis agreed. “It is fortunate, perhaps, that Obadiah Stane underestimates my capabilities. I do not think Sir was as forthcoming as he could have been in regards to what I can do.”

...

“Why are you having such a problem with this?” Tony demanded, utterly flummoxed. He’d never seen his godfather like this. “She’s practically the spitting image of me. If I were older, I would think she was my kid.”

“Why am I having such a problem with this?” Obadiah shouted in incredulous anger. “You run off and adopt a kid without talking to me first, and you wonder why I have such a problem with this? How do you even know this kid isn’t just some lookalike with absolutely no genetic tie to you? Did you even ask for a DNA test, or did you just trust the guy when he came to you with a sob story about a kid he can’t take care of?”

“It’s done, Obadiah. I’ve adopted her, and that’s not going to change.” Tony declared with finality.

“I still insist on a DNA test, Tony, or I won’t believe she’s Howard’s. The board won’t either.” Obadiah continued.

“So that’s what this is about.” Tony realized. “You think she’ll try to take the company. Well, at least now I know why your panties are in such a wad.”

“Tony, I’m trying to think of your future.” Obadiah insisted, getting frustrated now. “The company is your future. It’s what Howard left for you. If he had fathered another child, he would have left something for them too, but he didn’t. That tells me she isn’t his, that she can’t be his.”

“Tony?” The hesitant and uncertain voice of Hera reached him. He turned to see her all but plastered to the doorway, the sight damn near breaking his heart with how scared she looked. “I heard yelling.”

“It’s okay, Hera, we were just talking.” Tony replied, gently. “Have you thought about what kind of pizza you want?”

“I’ve never had pizza before, Tony.” She reminded him with tiny smile. “I wouldn’t know what to order, or a good place to even order from.”

“I know all of Tony’s favorite places, Little Miss.” Jarvis insisted. “I’ll be glad to help you go over toppings to decide what you might like.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.” She accepted with a nod towards the nearest sensor, before turning her attention back to Tony and Obadiah. “Would your godfather like me more if he knew I didn’t need your company? He might be like those reporters who thought I was only after you for your money.”

“Wow, she’s blunt.” Obadiah muttered, before eyeing Hera speculatively. “Okay, kid, how are you going to prove that?”

“The man Howard had agreed to help was James Potter. His father invented a line of hair care products that made him a fortune, but even before that the Potters were a wealthy family. They were all chemists mostly, or investment brokers.” Hera explained, not really pulling away from the doorway much to answer him. “It’s been like that for generations. So you don’t have to worry that I’ll try to take over the company. I have enough money on my own, and while I don’t know what I want to do yet, I’ve got time to figure it out.”

“Hera, that’s something we’ll talk about later, okay?” Tony put in. “I have no problem if you want to team up with me in the R&D department. The two of us could probably take over the world if we really set our minds to it.”

“Or cause it to explode.” She added, grinning just a touch. “Ruling the world sounds like too much bother. Think of all the paperwork we’d have to sign!”

Tony shuttered just thinking about it, causing her to grin a little wider.

Obadiah sighed. “I see I’m not going to talk you out of this. I still say you need to get a DNA test done, Tony. It’ll shut the board up, at the very least.”

...

“I hate to say this, but he isn’t wrong.” Tony sighed in frustration, after Obadiah had left. “The board won’t stop till they get DNA proof that you were of Howard’s blood.”

“Why does it even matter to them?” Hera asked, a bit on the defensive. “Pretending that I’m not, you adopted me. Legally, that negates their petty squabbling about company shares, and whatever else has them clutching at their pearls.”

“I know, but in this case, better to shut them up sooner rather than later.” Tony advised. “I probably should have prepared you for something like this. I grew up a public figure, so I’m just used to it.”

“So Draco was right.” Hera sighed. “You’re one of those people who have to put up with useless things like charity galas that are really about making rich people feel important, wining and dining other rich people out of their money and other useless crap you don’t want to be doing, when you could be doing things you actually want to do, such as work on things in your workroom.”

“Story of my life.” Tony nodded in commiseration. “You’ll have to do some of those things too, and sooner than you or I would like. You okay with that?”

“We get to have private moments like a family should though, right?” Hera asked, hesitating.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Tony promised. “Now, on to the quest for pizza! How do you feel about pineapple and ham?”

“You uncultured swine.”

Tony cackled, and picked up the phone.

She was back in that place again, Hera realized after a moment. Normal dreams, even the lucid ones, didn’t feel as real as this. The stone hallway was familiar to her, the warmth of the two suns peaking through the large windows. It felt lighter than it had last time, and she found herself following the familiar path to the library. She needed the familiar smell of old books considering the day she’d had, having proven herself via DNA testing that she was indeed the daughter of Howard Stark, much to Obadiah Stane’s consternation; however, she had not expected to see Thor reading in what she affectionately thought of as her reading nook. He looked a little bit older now, but when he looked up and saw her, his eyes lit up with the boyish happiness he had always been known for.

“LADY HERA!” He called out happily, only to get shushed by the librarian, cowing sheepishly under her glare before the woman left. “Lady Hera, it has been some time! I had not thought you would return after our last encounter.”

“I hadn’t thought I’d run into you in the library of all places either, but here we are.” Hera admitted, having long given up getting Thor to simply call her Hera, especially after he’d heard about her actual Ladyship title. Her tone was a little cold towards him, and he grimaced slightly at the sound, which caused her to ease up some. “What are you doing in here instead of in the training arenas? I didn’t think you the studious sort.”

“Ah, and normally you would be right. I do not see the need to waste away in dusty tomes as Loki does,” Thor agreed, though he ducked his head a bit in apprehension when he saw her glaring at him due to that last comment. “but my brother has finally convinced my father that I need to spend more time learning the political aspects of what it is to be king. I do not see why this is so. Is that not why I will have advisers?”

“Thor, how does your father know when the advisers give him good advise?” Hera asked, with a tone she suspected Loki used on him, if his long suffering sigh was any indication. “You can bet your arse that Oðin doesn’t simply trust their word. They are his advisers, but he is their king. He is expected to know the things they do. You will be too. All an adviser really does is give their opinion on the best course of action, using the knowledge they have. Hearing different opinions and viewpoints to your own is how a good king should make sound decisions. If you do not know the things they know, an adviser could easily take advantage of you.”

“That would be treason!” Thor objected passionately.

“And how would you know what they were doing, if you did not know they were lying to you?” Hera pointed out, causing him to frown. “Do you think Oðin bases his decisions on instinct? Even if he did, how did he hone those instincts, but through knowledge and the practical application of that knowledge? Knowledge he gained by ‘wasting away in dusty tomes’ as you say. Or, if the stories are true, you could just hang yourself upside down in the Yggðrasil after sacrificing an eyeball.”

“Aye, I could, but I was forbidden from doing so by Mother.” Thor lamented.

Hera snorted in amusement. “You would rather lose an eyeball instead of cracking open a book?”

“Not true! I have found the most fascinating book just moments ago.” Thor insisted, gesturing to said book. “It was not with the stack Loki set aside for me to read, but when I saw it, I could not help but be drawn to it. So far, it has everything; Adventure, a villain, a noble quest, even a gallant knight on a noble steed! I fear it is a cautionary tale, but I can not say for certain that I understand it yet. The hero is not someone I would have chosen to lead such a story.”

“Really?” Hera inquired, intrigued. “Who did the author choose?”

“A young girl around your age, Lady Hera, but she is…spoiled. She cares nothing for her brother, and wishes only for the life of her dreams.” Thor frowned, as he went flipping through the pages once more.

“Sounds more like you.” Hera countered with a smug grin, and Thor made to object, though she held her hand up to stop him. “A young prince, spoiled, that cares nothing for his brother, and wishes for the life of his dreams; that of adventure.”

“Why do you insist I do not care for Loki?” Thor pouted.

“You stood by while he got his lips sewn shut, and that was before Oðin decreed no help was to be given to him.” Hera reminded him. “You allow your friends to insult him, though it is in a manner you can claim is done in teasing and friendship, even when you know he does not take it kindly and does not consider them his friends. If you asked, and demanded the truth from them, you would have to face the fact that they do not consider him anything more than your annoying little brother that they’re forced to be around because they like you. Anyway, why are you so intrigued by this book if the hero is not to your standards?”

“Because she wishes her brother away, and will have to endure dangers untold and hardships unnumbered if she is to win him back.” Thor replied, distracted by the book once more.

“And you will have 13 hours to run the labyrinth, or your brother will become one of us…such a pity.” Hera whispered to herself, her mind lost in half forgotten memories and dreams. She knew those words. How did she know those words?

“You have read it!” Thor rejoices, once again shushed by the librarian, but this time he is too happy to be dissuaded. “Why did you not say so? Do not spoil the ending for me. I wish to read on!”

“Thor, put that book back where you found it.” Hera warned, hoping he would listen to reason. “You do not understand the power words can have, and you will inevitably call upon the power of the book without realizing or caring what you have done. You may not be able to undo the damage, should you incur the wrath of the Goblin King.”

“Do you speak true? This realm exists?” Thor asked, nigh ecstatic now, clearly not hearing her warning. “The book claims there is a great sword within the labyrinth. I think I should quite like to have that, as Mjölnir has not yet seen fit to grant me worthy of its use. I shall have to tell our friends of this. Surely, tis a noble quest worthy of our efforts?”

“Thor, in that book there are only two people involved in the quest; the Wisher and the Wished Away, if we’re not counting the Goblin King and his subjects.” Hera cautioned again. “Please, just put the book down, and don’t think about it anymore. You’ve no idea what you’re messing with.”

“Where is it? Where is it?” Thor was mumbling to himself now. Hera had a bad feeling about this, but she didn’t get the chance to say anything, because Thor looked up at her and exclaimed. “I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now!”

Hera teaching Jarvis how to be a Brit is loosely inspired by Holly Potter and the Mid Life Crisis by Enigmaris

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Where is it? Where is it?” Thor was mumbling to himself now. Hera had a bad feeling about this, but she didn’t get the chance to say anything, because Thor looked up at her and exclaimed. “I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now!”

Chapter 47

It is not often that there is an older Wish Away, but Jareth suspected that the young woman on the cusp of adulthood had not expected to be here now anyway. Few did. She stood before him in shock, as if still processing what had just happened, wide eyes so green they almost glowed. Her wild ink black hair was close to her face, almost framing her pale skin and near jewel like green eyes. She hadn’t yet acknowledged him, too busy taking in her new surroundings. There was power about this girl, something familiar that he could sense just under the skin, and that made him curious.

“Do you know where you are?” He asked in a gentle manner, drawing her attention to him. No need to scare her, and she seemed just shy of a bolting doe as it was. “I am the Goblin King. You have been wished away to my Kingdom in the Underground. The one who wished you away has thirteen hours to run my Labyrinth if they want to you returned to them.”

“I don’t understand…” She replied, a standard answer from those who were wished away that were old enough to offer conversation. “He really did it, didn’t he? He actually wished me away.”

He had not expected that, for her to accept it so quickly, for her to understand.

“There is magic about you, a mix of soul and time.” Jareth realized, trying to analyze the power he felt coming from her. “You are both here and not. How?”

“Oh, I…” She seemed to fumble for a way to explain what he was sensing. “I needed answers, and went looking for them instead of asking one who might know. There’s a potion designed to throw your soul through the aether, across time and space, to the last time your soul was as young as you are now…I took it, and now…Now, sometimes, when I dream…I am here, and…not here.”

“I think I understand. I reorder time, move the stars at my choosing. This sounds similar, yet more…selective.” He noted. “Well then, under normal circumstances the Wisher must run the Labyrinth to have the Wished Away returned to them. Stay here while I explain the rules to your would be rescuer, and we can see about what to do with you when I return.”

Jareth was not prepared for her to go stone still before throwing her head back as she seemed to laugh with her whole body, much the way he would have when someone said something utterly outrageous.

“Thor? Rescue me?” The young woman exclaimed as she continued to laugh, wiping away at a tear that managed to escape. “No offense meant, Your Majesty, but I wouldn’t trust him to be able to rescue his own self out of a wet paper bag, let alone me.”

“How do you expect to be rescued then?” Jareth asked, a mix of curiosity and disbelief in his voice.

“I assure you, Your Majesty, should I ever feel like I need rescuing while here, I’ll do it myself.” The young woman assured him, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder in a way that he could only describe as patronizing, before promptly walking out the door.

…

“I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now!” Thor exclaimed happily, and then looked around somewhat in bewilderment. Had she disappeared again? “Lady Hera? Lady Hera, where are you? Where did you go?”

“You know exactly where she is, Thor Oðinson.” Came a voice that was entirely unfamiliar to him.

“On the contrary, I know not where she goes when she disappears as she does.” Thor countered, upon seeing the strange man leaning against the opposing bookshelf. “This is not the first time she has left in such a manner.”

“And yet it is the first time you have wished her away.” The strange man reminded him.

“…You’re the Goblin King.” Thor realized, and then a sudden fear gripped him. “You have the Lady Hera! I demand you release her at once!”

“I can not. What’s done is done, and what’s said is said. Those are the rules.” The Goblin King pointed out, and then tilted his head as he regarded him. “Why not forget the girl?”

“I can not. I…” Thor realized that perhaps he had miscalculated. She had been warning him away from this very thing, and he’d charged ahead without thinking, as his brother had so often accused him of doing. “She is not of this realm. I foolishly thought this would be an adventure for a particular sword of goblin make, but she tried to warn me against the endeavor. I wished her away, in the hopes that she could aid me from within.”

“So you thought to steal from my kingdom then, and you wished the girl away in order for her to become your way in.” The Goblin King scoffed. “No wonder she has no faith in you. She actually laughed when I told her you would be tasked with the quest to do so.”

It hurt to hear him say that, but Thor knew it was well earned. Why should she have faith in him after what he’d done?
“Please, where is she?” Thor inquired, worry clawing at him. “Is she safe?”

“Do you still wish to look for her?” The Goblin King asked, knowingly. With a flick of his wrist, a full length mirror stood against the wall by the bookshelf, though the image within was not a reflection of the room. “She is there in my castle. You could turn back. Should you choose to try and find her, you will be given 13 hours in which to solve the labyrinth before she becomes one of us forever, such a pity.”

“You would hold someone against their will?” Thor demanded, now angry.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t. After all, you wished her away against her will.” The Goblin King reminded him, making him look down in shame.

He had done that, but still…Lady Hera did not deserve this fate! He had to find a way to make it right!

“I brought you a gift.”

“What?…What is it?” He asked, hesitantly, looking back up now. The Goblin King waved his hand, and a crystal appeared in it.

“It’s a crystal, nothing more.” The Goblin King was quick to assure him. “But, if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams. But a gift such as this is not meant for an ordinary prince who feels the need to rescue such a boring girl who does not wish to let you go on adventures.”

He did like to go on adventures, and Hera harped on about responsibilities in much the same manner as Loki did.

“Do you want it?” The Goblin King asked, tempting.

He did. He did want it. More than anything.

“Forget the girl.”

...

…But he couldn’t take it.

“I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now!”

He didn’t know who’d said those words, but they had Tony bolting for Hera’s new room faster than he thought he could move. No one should be able to break into his home, not with Jarvis on watch, but he didn’t know how Hera’s magic affected the AI. In the sort of lounge area she’d made out of what should have been her room, Jör looked as confused as any large snake could manage, and the window wasn’t opened. He scrambled into the workroom she’d made out of one of the admittedly insanely large walk in closets, but there was no sign of her, and she wasn’t sleeping in the other walk in closet she’d turned into her bedroom. Tony wasn’t sure who else to call, and so for the second time in as many weeks, he called Professor Snape.

…

“Don’t give me shit about what time it is over there, Snape.” Tony snapped, by way of greeting, as soon as Severus answered the phone. “I need answers, and I’m trying not to panic. Hera’s missing, and I need to know if the goblins take away children.”

It felt like ice shot down his spine at those words, and whatever acerbic response he’d been planning to give was shot to hell.

“Tell me the truth right now. Did you wish her away?” Severus demanded.

“What? No!” Tony objected, sounding genuinely insulted. “I didn’t even know that was a thing, and even if I had known, I wouldn’t have done it! That’s a thing? It certainly explains what I heard, but the California branch of Gringotts placed wards to prevent the teleporting thing unless on the approved list, and there isn’t an approved list yet. Someone said those words, I heard them, something about wishing the goblins would take you away. I ran as fast as I could, but Hera isn’t in her room, and I didn’t say those words, and I don’t know what to do!”

“Owl Gringotts, and request a meeting with their king. He is in charge of taking care of wished away children.” Severus explained, hoping that Stark retained some of this information in his panic fueled brain. “That we remember her tells me she is not a true Wish Away, or there were complications. With Potter, I assume it’s somehow both. Get to Gringotts. I’ll meet you there, and we’ll figure out what happened.”

He hung up before Stark could object, and made to pack. He had a feeling that this would be more of an extended trip than his usual summer getaways. The Headmaster tended not to make demands of him over the summer, so he had quite a bit of leeway with how he spent his time. Perhaps he should have kept a closer eye on his apprentice, as it seemed trouble found her even when she didn’t look for it. Time to put the money he hadn’t spent from those patents to good use.

Jareth found her in the library, such as it was, slowly flipping through a book as if she could actually read it. There were few races who could read the language of the High Fae. What were the odds that this newest Wished Away was one of them? She did not seem bothered by the chaos that the exuberant goblins he was in charge of were creating. In fact, when one of them nearly hit her with some flying object, she merely deflected it without even looking up from the book she was engrossed in.

“You are not bothered by chaos of the goblins.” He noted, as he walked into the room.

“Reminds me of the Gryffindor Common Room.” The girl replied with fondness and ease. “In a way, it’s kind of soothing background noise.”

“Give me your name, so that I might address you properly.” He insisted, and was surprised when she snorted.

“You’re going to have to try a bit harder than that if you want to trap me, Your Majesty.” She commented, glancing his way so he could see the mirth in her eyes. Good. She wasn’t panicking yet. Hopefully, she never would. “However, you may call me Hera, if you like.”

“Then I insist you call me Jareth.” He replied with a slight bow. “Where did you learn the rules of the Fae?”

“Most people know the stories, though since the Statute of Secrecy got erected that’s all that most people believe them to be; stories.” Hera admitted, as she closed the book, using a ribbon as a place marker rather than folding the end of the page. “For the in depth stuff, which I’m not sure I understood correctly, I snuck into the restricted section of Hogwarts. It all seemed a bit unwieldy, but I’m not High Fae, so I wouldn’t know why those things are so important, and it wasn’t like there was a lot of reliable information in there. I’m still not sure why thanking a fae is seen as an insult or an invite to take a soul as if it’s been offered. There was even one book that said that when someone said that after a Fae did something for them, it was seen as they were owed that thing. Like I said, the information I found was…unwieldy.”

“How many times did you try to escape since I left?” Jareth teased, amused when she cracked a sheepish grin.

“Enough to know the castle is sentient.” She replied impishly.

“I’m impressed.” Jareth admitted easily. “Not many realize that. Your would be rescuer did not take the gift I offered, and is attempting to run the labyrinth. How would you like me to proceed?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed wearily. “Thor needs to realize his actions have consequences, but it’s Tony who will suffer if Thor is unsuccessful. He…We’ve only just found out we were siblings. I keep doubting that he’ll stay, but he’s always there for me; always, no matter how crazy or weird things get, and now Thor…That berk wished me away just so he could go on a quest for a sword. He doesn’t even appreciate the sacrifice his brother made to get him the weapon that will one day judge him worthy of it. He didn’t even think about what he was going to be putting me or Tony through with his carelessness.”

Tears stream down her face as she came to grips with what she could lose should the young man fail, something the goblins and sprites begin collecting with care. A witch’s tears possessed pure magic, something that would not be wasted in the Underground.

“Is this Tony the only reason you would object to staying here?” Jareth asked, hoping the conversation would distract her from her pain.

“Well, I do have friends now. Didn’t have those before Hogwarts School.” She admitted shyly, trying to stem the flow of her tears. “I do like this place, and the beings here have been really nice. It’s not even been half an hour yet, but everyone here has been incredibly kind. There’s so much magic here. Forever hardly seems long enough with such magic to explore at my leisure.”

“This sword he spoke of, do you know of it?” Jareth inquired. She shook her head no. “If you will accompany me for a light snack, I will explain further.”

“If I eat the food here, I’m not going to be stuck like Persephone was in that story, am I?” Hera asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “I know it belongs to a different mythos, but still.”

“It is wise to exercise caution when a Fae offers you food. Not all of us give it with pure intentions, and I will admit to having used it as a way to distract or trap someone before.” Jareth admitted, nodding to her in approval, before bending down slightly and offering her the crook of his arm. “However, as you are the Wished Away and not the Runner, I will not offer you such foods. Plus, it would not do to poison or trap a potential ally, now would it?”

“I appreciate it.” She agreed, accepting the gesture.

“Do I not register as a threat to you?” He asked, idly wondering how she could trust him so, as they walked.

“You do, but I hope you do not take offense when I say I have known far greater threats to my life than the one you potentially now pose.” She replied, looking up at him. Images flashed in his mind of a large being with purple skin and a smile that chilled him to the bone, a pale being whose face was covered with a hood, a rather skinny being that seemed fish like, and another who looked almost more snake than man.

“I…I see what you mean.” Jareth stated, managing to look away.

“My apologies, I…I’ve never been able to show anyone those things before.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said those words.

He simply gave her hand a light squeeze, indicating that she need not worry about it, and it seemed to relax her. The dining hall was already set for them before they arrived. Many of the foods were ones he knew were not native to the Above, though they were safe for her to eat. A part of him expected her to stick to the foods she recognized, but oddly enough those were the foods she shied away from. He was surprised when she wanted to speak with the chef after the first bite taken, wondering what would prompt such a reaction, and amused when it turned out that all she’d wanted was to compliment the chef for the wonderful meal. When the blushing chef was gone, the conversation turned to what Jareth hoped she could help him with, though he wondered how a little slip of a girl could do this impossible thing.

“The weapon Thor seeks isn’t a sword, strictly speaking, though it is trapped in the form of a sword for the time being.” Jareth informed her. “It can become a sword, a dagger, a shield…whatever the wielder needs it to be, except in the case where it is used to subdue the one holding it; as is the case now.”

“I don’t understand.” She admitted, furrowing her eyebrows slightly as she thought it over.

“There is a large wolf deep within the heart of the Labyrinth, chained with something as thin as gossamer but stronger than anything known to man or Fae, the weapon trapped as a sword in its mouth.” Jareth explained, watching as she stilled at the mention of this. “If you can deal with the wolf, the weapon is yours, and you will be free to leave the Labyrinth.”

He knew who this wolf was, and the story was well known enough in the Above that he knew that she would know it too. With every Wish Away that was old enough to understand what was at stake, he’d offered this deal. Jareth did not like that the Æsir had dumped the World Eater in the Underground without so much as a by your leave, completely without permission, and using one of his own swords in such a way. He had tried to remove the wolf himself, but the Asgarðians had made sure to place the wolf in an iron rich part of the Labyrinth, the concentration of it so high that it remained one of the few places Jareth could not tread in his own kingdom without succumbing to iron poisoning. No one had taken him up on the deal, knowing the story as they did.

She just looks at him with a determined air, and asks. “Where do I start?”

“Are you certain you wish to attempt this?” Jareth asked, mildly alarmed, though he knew he couldn’t take it back. What was said was said. “You understand just who this wolf is, do you not? Surely Thor will win his run. You need not endanger your life unnecessarily.”

“I’ll be fine.” Hera insisted, waving off his concern with such a practiced ease that he now was worried about what other manner of horrors she could have possibly faced to be so blasé about facing off with the World Eater, remembering what he’d seen before. “I told you that should I feel it necessary, I’d rescue myself, and you’ve just given me the perfect chance to do that. I’d rather take my chances with Fenrir than let Thor rescue me from the danger he put me in.”

“You know you’re not actually in danger here, do you not?” Jareth asked, regarding her carefully.

“I do” She replied as she smirked at him, something deliciously wicked and mischievous. “, but he doesn’t.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“You know you’re not actually in danger here, do you not?” Jareth asked, regarding her carefully.

“I do” She replied as she smirked at him, something deliciously wicked and mischievous. “, but he doesn’t.”

Chapter 48

Standing in an office of the Californian branch of Gringotts, Tony was so mad, he couldn’t see straight. So when the light explosion of glitter happened and the High Fae that was their king appeared, Tony thought nothing of leaping forward and punching the guy square in the face. It was the only clear shot he was going to get, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make it count. Snape managed to stop him with that immobile spell he now hated, and the king himself cautioned the goblins in the office to back off. It was only when Tony got a clear look at the guy that he debated the foolishness of his idea.

“Where is Hera?” Tony demanded, once Snape had freed him of the spell. “Who wished her away?”

“Who are you to be demanding these things?” The Fae asked, not bothered by his anger.

“I’m her brother.” Tony snapped. “Now where is she?!”

“Your name. Give me your name so that I may address you properly.” The Fae countered.

Tony frowned at the wording, remembering how his mother talked about the old stories, and replied. “I’m not giving you my name, but you can call me Tony.”

“Very good. Never give your name to one of the Fae, but allow them to call you your name. Many a mortal have been caught by the Fae in this manner.” The Fae nodded in approval. “One such as you should definitely be careful with the way you banter it about.”

“Where’s Hera?” Tony demanded. He would get his answers, damn it, even if he had to repeat the question a thousand times.

“We should talk.” The Fae ordered, even as he waved his hand to create a small but opulent table with three matching chairs.

Tony and Snape looked at each other for a moment before silently agreeing to the ‘request’ made by the High Fae before them.

“Hera spoke to me of a potion she’d taken, and the continued effects of that potion, that when she dreams she is both here and not. It is in a way what lead her to be wished away to my kingdom in the Underground, and why I have moved the stars to accommodate this event.” The High Fae began. “If you have not guessed this by now, I am known as the Goblin King. You may call me Jareth.”

“Certainly explains why you look like David Bowie.” Tony noted, unable to help himself. “What does the potion Hera took have to do with being wished…oh…”

“I see you’ve realized what happened, at least in part.” Jareth concluded, sitting back to observe the proceedings.

“What?” Snape asked, not having gotten it yet.

“Hera said…that Thor hadn’t helped his brother even before the command was given.” Tony replied, turning to the man. “She took Loki’s punishment into herself, because no one else could help him. Her lips were suddenly sewn shut, allowing them to heal him and then her.” Addressing Jareth now, he asked. “Why did Thor wish her away?”

“A chance to go on a quest for a sword.” Jareth explained, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. “You see, the book always finds those who want to rush something they should wait for, those who are selfish and spoiled, demanding things they think they deserve. Some learn their lesson. Others do not.”

“How do we get her back?” Tony asked, trying not to panic, shaking internally. “I am uncertain what I could offer a king, but I would give anything…do anything…whatever is needed. She’s my sister. I can’t just leave her there.”

“There is nothing I need that you could give me, and nothing you could do besides.” Jareth shook his head, raising his hand to silence Tony before he could even offer a protest. “The sort of contract that Thor has trapped her in can not be undone by anyone but him, and I have been informed that should she feel the need to be rescued, she certainly isn’t going to wait around for him to do it.”

“There is a loophole to every contract, even goblin made ones, if you know where to look.” Snape observed. “What’s the loophole here?”

“I take it you are the ‘most paranoid bastard on the face of the planet’ she spoke of?” Jareth asked, to which Snape gave a subtle nod. “There isn’t one, not in the way you think. Thor wished her away, and as per the rules of the contract, the Wisher must make the Run. If they do not make it to my castle beyond the goblin city within the time limit, the Wish Away becomes one of us. Incidentally, if the Wish Away chooses not to be rescued, other arrangements can be made.”

An image of a sword with a large ruby at the hilt appeared before them.

“This is what Thor seeks; a weapon that shifts as to the wielder’s needs. It is currently trapped in the form of a sword, shoved in between the teeth of the World Eater after he was bound by Gleipnir, deep within the heart of the Labyrinth, in a place even I can not go.” Jareth explained. “If she takes care of the wolf, she may keep the weapon, and leave the Labyrinth. If she can do so before Thor completes his run, he will automatically lose even if he manages to make it to the Castle beyond the Goblin City in time, and she will become Goblin Friend; a subject of my kingdom in the Underground, and thus one of us. Such a pity.”

Both Snape and Tony sat there for a moment as they tried to absorb what they’d just heard, when Snape turns to him, and wonders. “Think she’ll manage it?”

Tony can’t help himself, grinning a touch as he responds with. “Think she won’t?”

“Merlin’s sagging tits, she’s going to be insufferable after this.” Snape groaned, pinching the space between his eyes. “As if she wasn’t bad enough before.”

“You two seem oddly confident she’ll succeed.” Jareth noted, looking from one to the other.

“You clearly have no idea who you made a deal with.” Tony replied knowingly. “Now, is there a view screen somewhere, or am I going to have to go home and play the worried parent until she pops back into existence in her room?”

...

As she walked through the Labyrinth, Hera had to admit to herself that she was being unnecessarily petty. Thor, when it came down to it, was a good hearted person. His problem was that while he was naive and far too trusting for his own good, he was also thick headed and more stubborn than any mule. At least when Hera was a reckless dumb arse, it was with her own life, and not anyone else’s. She hated pulling other people into her troubles, and it felt strange to her that Tony and her friends would want to get involved in her troubles to support her; she kept expecting the other shoe to drop, that they would leave her; her deepest fear.

Thor would most likely win his Run for her freedom, but something within the core of Hera’s very being rebelled against the mere idea of being rescued by the thoughtless idiot that had put her in danger in the first place; for a sword! She knew exactly what she was doing by taking the Goblin King up on his offer. If she got to Fenrir before Thor got to the castle beyond the Goblin City, he would have no way to win the run, because she’d have already fled the Underground. The Goblins did love a good loophole. They got their runner, a problem solved, and a new citizen of the Underground: bonus points for keeping the weapon Thor had risked her life for. Perhaps she was still sore about the dwarves of Niðavellir, even though they had done her no direct harm in this life, but she would take the Goblins of Gringotts and the Underground over them any day.

The citizens of the Labyrinth itself were wonderfully kind. The cornish pixies all seemed to love her, which she found just as odd as always: the incident in Lockhart’s ‘lesson’ came to mind. Hoggle was one of her absolute favorite people, and she was calling him Hogwarts foreeever. She’s pretty sure he’s not nearly as offended by it as he pretends to be. Everyone she meets warns her away from her task, and now that she’s nearing her goal, she can understand why.

The further along she goes, the fewer beings she finds, until there is no one. Nothing lives here. Nothing grows here. It is getting increasingly hard to breathe. It isn’t until a strong odor hits her nose that she even knows what is wrong. Iron ore was everywhere, which would explain why Jareth had not made an attempt himself. A High Fae, even one as strong and powerful as he, would die if too much was absorbed into his system. It does not seem to be doing her any favours, come to think of it, but that was a later problem.

...

“Shite.” Severus curses, realizing what she has by the composition of the stone around her, but sees also the physical effects it is having on her in a way that she does not, and something clicks.

“What?” Tony asked, now looking at the scene closely. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at her.” Severus demanded in a hiss, before turning back to the scene. “I always wondered…”

Both Tony and Jareth were looking at him now with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“Potter always buys the finer supplies, rather than the simple iron ones that are standard for beginners.” Severus explained. “When I first realized this, I thought it was because she’d been spoiled, that she was used to the finer things in life, and thus didn’t understand why one used the simple iron ones first. Since she removed the Dark Mark from my arm, I have spoken with the Weasley Twins Fred and George on a number of occasions, as they were the ones who first alerted me to what was going on with regards to her magic. She does things instinctively, to the point where she doesn’t notice it isn’t normal for others, and everyone else just assumes she knows the reasons for her own actions. If she gravitated to crystal rods instead of iron, or copper skillets instead of cast iron ones, everyone would have assumed it was a preference. If she were allergic, and her magic simply protected her instinctively, would she even know?”

Jareth now looked sharply at the large apparatus the scene was being shown through, while Tony began looking more worried.

“I would not have sent another of the Fae to this, had I known.” Jareth sighed. “How does she not?”

“Fae?” Severus asked, right about the time Tony objected with. “Hera isn’t Fae.”

“There are few other species that react to iron the way she is now.” Jareth objected, before turning back to observe her. “Her skin is already sallow. The more she breathes in, the worse this will get. What is she, if not Fae?”

“If things go in typical Potter Luck ^TM fashion, you’ll soon find out.” Severus replied cryptically, just as Tony grinned that damnable smirk of his, and replied. “That would be telling.”

...

Breathing was definitely becoming harder, burning even, and that later problem was very quickly becoming a now problem. This is usually when Ron would start trying to talk her into going back because he was bored, and Hermione would scold her stubbornness. It was nice to know they worried about her, and tried to hide that worry with excuses close to their natures. She was definitely not telling them about this later, if she could get away with it. That wasn’t likely, but still one could dream.

It was by happenstance that she looked down, but what surprised her was her own footprints in the dirt. The sight of them made her pause. If she was being repelled somehow, maybe by notice-me-not spells or wards, then she might have wasted more time than she’d previously thought. There was a resistance to her right, a pressure she hadn’t really noticed earlier. Testing this, she stepped left, and the pressure was gone instantly; a step to the right, and the pressure returned.

This was a magic she’d not been able to see before, and given it’s nature she shouldn’t be surprised. Since discovering the ability to see magic others couldn’t, she’d used it as often as she could, and perhaps she had gotten complacent with it enough to assume that she could see any and all magic. That was an oversight on her part, one hopefully not to be repeated. Keeping this in mind, Hera focused on the area her mind was telling her she did not want to go, and with great effort stepped through.

It was quite the shock then to see a wall of black fur suddenly fill her vision. There was a low rumble that followed, and Hera couldn’t have stopped her decision to look up if she’d wanted. The black wolf before her was unimaginably tall, even restrained as it was, and he growled low when she slowly approached. She saw the rage in his eyes; the fear, the distrust, the agony. She saw the rope they’d bound him with pulled so tight in some places there was fresh and caked blood on the rope and patches of fur missing. The sword in his mouth as described, but so was blood, puss, and scar tissue.

“Oh, Fenrir.” She whispered, remorse etched into her face. “What have they done to you?”

...

“What is she doing?” Jareth interjected fearfully, watching the scene before them with clear disbelief. “I said to take care of the wolf, not befriend it.”

“There’s several ways of interpreting the phrase ‘take care of’, you know.” Tony pointed out, managing to hold back his grimace when Jareth glared at him.

Jareth turned back to watching the girl, who had crouched onto the ground, revealing the back of her neck to the World Eater. Next to him he heard the others swear, more so when the World Eater began sniffing at her hair. She giggled as the large wolf made to sniff as much of her as his nose could reach, trying to put his nose under her to lift her up. This was a far more friendly reaction than he had expected, even with the sword in the wolf’s mouth. Her words were more sound than actual substance, calming, soothing, almost nonsense; at least until she made for the thin rope that made up Gleipnir, causing the World Eater to try and pull away.

“I know you want to hurt them. You want to kill them. You want revenge for what they did to you.” She says softly to the wolf. “You deserve it, but you won’t get it by killing them.”

The wolf’s huff told them exactly what he thought about that.

“You’re angry, I know. It sits in your stomach like a poison, because that’s exactly what it is. You growl, and plot, and dream of tearing into them, and that anger consumes you until it’s all you are.” The girl continued, undaunted. “In doing this, you give them power over you. You make them right about you.”

The wolf growled low and angry, a warning.

“Think about it!” She snapped, and the wolf became still. “They are the source of your anger, your pain. They made you powerless when they placed these chains on you, and so you think you can take the power back by killing them. It won’t work, because after they’re all dead and gone, you’ll still be angry. You’ll still be in pain, and they’ll still have power over you.”

The wolf looked like anger radiated off of it now.

“The best revenge is living well.” She continued, and the wolf snorted, letting her know exactly what he thought about that. “I didn’t believe it either, but I managed it, and I can show you how.”

The wolf eyed her with disbelief now, clearly thinking she had lost leave of all her senses.

“If you had a choice between living a long and fulfilling life, or dying by getting even, which would you choose?” She asked, almost pleading it seemed. “Think about when you were very small. What was it you wanted? Before you were taken before Oðin, and he feared what you could become, what did you wish for?”

The wolf seemed to consider her more closely now.

“I’m sorry you were taken before Oðin. I’m sorry he didn’t give it a second thought, especially after what happened to Jörmungandr.” She apologized, as she struggled not to cry, tears falling regardless of her efforts. “I can’t change what happened to you, but I think I could talk Tony into letting you stay with us…if we can figure out how to shrink you down. You give him the puppy eyes, and he’ll totally cave to whatever you want.”

“I didn’t think she’d noticed that.” Tony whispered fondly. “She’s asked for so little…”

“But I have to tell you, removing the sword is gonna hurt, but I can’t start healing you while it’s in there.” She went on to explain. “I’d rather leave this thin rope stuff on for that, and then remove it once you’ve been healed from the sword. After that, I can heal the lacerations caused by the rope, and you can come live with me…I mean…if you want…”

“Where’s Thor at right now?” Severus asked suddenly. “We need to keep tabs on him.”

“You just don’t want to have a heart attack while watching her heal the World Eater.” Tony accused with a grin; and while Severus glared, he didn’t deny it either.

Jareth just shook his head at the two, before switching the view screen to Thor. The heir apparent to Ásgarðr didn’t look like he was fairing too well. Sir Didymus and Ambrosius had just charged at the prince, causing the young man to lose his footing, and fall into the Bog of Eternal Stench. Both Severus and Tony cringed, not quite understanding what it was the young prince had fallen into, but Jareth just threw back his head and laughed outright. What made it even better was when Thor managed to get himself part of the way out, just so he could grab both Sir Didymus and Ambrosius, and hauled them in too.

“It can’t be that amusing.” Severus scolded, which just made Jareth laugh harder.

“It is if you know what I know!” Jareth tried to explain as he laughed, both men now looking at him expectantly. “That’s the Bog of Eternal Stench!”

“You can’t really mean…” Tony trailed off, slowly grinning now.

“He’ll smell like that foreeeever!” Jareth gasped, crying laughing now. “Even if Frigga manages to get rid of it, he’ll always smell like that, just a little.”

“What about the other two?” Tony asked, breathlessly chuckling.

“Those two are immune!” Jareth admitted gleefully, trying to calm down with little success. “They even…They even make it a point to find things to add to the stench!”

“I have spoiled potions and things that could add to the ambiance of the place,” Severus added, and it doesn’t take effort to hear the absolutely malicious glee in his voice. “if they’re taking suggestions.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“I have spoiled potions and things that could add to the ambiance of the place,” Severus added, and it doesn’t take effort to hear the absolutely malicious glee in his voice. “if they’re taking suggestions.”

Chapter 49

Tony wasn’t sure what to expect when he looked into Hera’s room, but he found her sleeping on top of the covers with a large and healthy black wolf on the other side of the bed that seemed to be as long as she was tall. The sword rested against the wall, and damn if that wasn’t the largest ruby he’d ever seen. Jör was sprawled out all over the gigantic tree branch set up Hera had bought at that magic pet store. Hedwig didn’t seem to be too bothered by the new addition, though she was mildly curious. Perhaps she had been able to watch over her charge in the Underground, and thus knew what had happened already. He wondered what else Hera was going to collect while here, and made a mental note to set an appointment with MACUSA in the morning, as he had a feeling she was going to want to register the World Eater as a familiar too; maybe a visit to the vet, just in case.

...

“So…He followed me home. Can I keep him?” Hera offered as a way of greeting, shuffling into the kitchen, expecting to only see Tony. Instead, she sees a mountain of pancakes. “Ugh, thank Merlin, I’m starving.”

“Good, because I made a fuck ton of pancakes.” Someone, who was definitely not Tony, said.

Hera peeked around the kitchen island containing said mountain of pancakes, and stared at the red and black suited intruder for a moment, before it finally dawns on her who this is. “…Wade?”

“Huh. Was not expecting that.” The masked Merc commented, only absentmindedly looking over his shoulder at her before getting back to the pancakes. “Do we already know each other? I thought I was early.”

“You are.” Hera yawned, before gathering a few of the pancakes onto a plate. “I just have a lot of future memories from people who aren’t me inside my head. I think we might have met before this, but I haven’t looked too closely at the filing cabinet. It’s a bit extensive, otherwise I’d end up loosing the plot somewhere. I’m just amazed I haven’t had an identity crises yet.”

“Happens to me a lot. Don’t worry, you haven’t even hit the fifth movie yet.” Wade nodded. “JK writes you as a boy, and Daniel Radcliffe plays your character. Fantastic job, by the way. Five stars! I could tell you how it ends, but I feel like somehow it wouldn’t apply to you. Plus, who likes spoilers? The only reason I even give them is no one understands them for what they are, and just shrug it off that I’m crazy. I mean, I am, but still-”

“Wade, can we hold off until after I eat? I’m not going to be able to keep up with you mentally until I’ve had breakfast…or at least tea. I’m British. I need my tea.” Hera replied with a sigh, remembering that Dead Pool tended to break the fourth wall with the multiverse a lot. She set down at the kitchen table, and started eating. “You should visit more. These pancakes are amazing.”

“Hera?” Tony called out as he shambled into the kitchen, looking like the walking dead, but freezes upon seeing Dead Pool. “What the hell?”

“Well, good morning to you too! Really, you should mind your fucking language. There is a child present.” Wade commented, causing Hera to snort.

“Tony, this is Wade Wilson; otherwise known as Dead Pool, or the Merc with a Mouth. He made us pancakes. Don’t ask. Just accept it. They’re delicious.” Hera stated, making the introductions. “Wade, this is my brother Tony Stark. It’s early for him too, so try not to ruin the big reveal, okay?”

“What is he doing here? What are you doing here?” Tony asked, switching from Hera to Wade.

“Thought I’d see the sights before the alien invasion.” Wade shrugged.

“Speaking of which, you wanna help with that? The kicking alien arse, not the invading, just so we’re clear.” Hera floated the idea out there. “Both of me will be there, so double the fun.”

“Wait. He’s serious?” Tony asked, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes, before heading over to get some pancakes and coffee.

“I did mention something about that.” Hera nodded. “Somewhere around 2012, but it’s fuzzy about the day and month right now. I really should start writing stuff down.”

“It must be bad if you're recruiting me.” Wade shrugged, finally done making pancakes.

“You don’t have to play nice with the secret spies or the powered up boy band, but I figured you could go for killing some Chitauri. Plus, what comes after will be way worse, but I didn’t get to see that part.” Hera replied. “Also, you’re eating some of these pancakes, and doing the dishes.”

“I thought that’s why you had those little guys.” Wade suggested, but headed over to the kitchen island for an obscene amount of pancakes for himself. “They’re so cute, like chihuahuas.”

“Just this once.” Hera warned, acquiescing. “Winky?” - pop - “Would you mind doing the dishes this time? Wade made a mess of pancakes. You and Dobby should probably take some, if you want. There’s plenty.”

“Of course, Little Miss! Winky is beings happy to do the dishes. Little Miss should call us more.” Winky insisted, lightly scolding her, and got started right away.

“I figured you two would be busy sorting out the old Potter Estate.” Hera admitted. “How’s that going, by the way?”

“There is much workings to be done.” Winky nodded. “Goblins will be speakings with you about it soon.”

“I appreciate it, Winky.” Hera smiled as she thanked the House Elf, before turning her attention to Wade. “You do plan on taking your mask off to eat, right? How bad can it be under there?”

“My friend said I looked like an old avocado had sex with an even older avocado, and he was being kind.” Wade warned. “It’s not pretty.”

“Can’t be worse than snake-face. He was missing his nose, both his eyebrows, and went with the Ken doll option.” Hera commented. Wade shrugged, taking off the mask and began eating pancakes, only pausing once to see what Hera’s reaction was. “How long were you in the water before your body decided it was going to stay permanently pruned like that?”

Tony, having been praying next to the coffee machine or something for God only knows how long, finally sees Wade without the mask. “Dear God, you look like Ryan Reynolds got mutilated with a sharpie.”

“Who’s Ryan Reynolds?” Hera asked, clueless as usual when Tony references someone he thinks she should know, and of course he looks completely betrayed.

Wade just snickered. “I should definitely visit more.”

“Why are you here exactly?” Tony asked, getting over his shock, choosing to sit in the closest available seat. “Don’t give me that sight seeing answer again. It was a crap answer, and we both know it. If you’re going to lie, be better about it.”

“I’m trying to remember.” Wade admitted with a shrug, going back to eating his pancakes. “Is this before or after that thing with Spider-man and Daredevil?”

“Which one?” Hera asked. Tony looked so confused, though Wade had turned thoughtful, and Hera figured she should help Tony while Wade sorted out his thoughts. “Oh, Wade breaks the fourth wall a lot. He can travel the multiverse, and I’m pretty sure time travel is involved somehow, but I’m not entirely sure how he does it. He comes off as insane a lot of the time because he’s talking about things that don’t apply to this universe, or won’t happen for a while, but while he is insane, not everything he says should be taken in that context. Some of it is relevant to this universe, or important to the specific person he’s speaking with no matter what reality he’s in. I find it’s best not to think about it too hard. The only reason why I can follow him at all is because of the low-key stuff and the secret agent brains.”

“Low-key.” Wade snickers. “I really don’t know what I’m doing here. Your kitchen is excellent for pancakes. I might stop by again. The potential job was reason enough, but pancakes are especially nice too.”

“Tacos later?” Hera suggested, to which the two fist bump.

“…What is she drinking?” Tony asked, eyeing Hera’s drink with suspicion.

“Mead.” Wade replied easily, causing both of them to start choking on their perspective drinks. “Speaking of which, I hope you like goats, because you now have a few in your back yard.”

“You didn’t.” Hera protested, realizing what he’d most likely done. “Wade!”

“What did he do?” Tony asked. “And why are you still drinking that?”

“Wade stole goats from Ásgarðr.” Hera explained, looking at the merc with incredulity. “They produce mead from their udders. Mothers give this stuff to their children practically from birth. In a weird way, this is him trying to be nice and take care of me, along with the pancakes. Wade, we can’t keep the goats. I’m not technically old enough to drink on this planet, and Tony’s an alcoholic. Giving him a goat that can produce actual alcohol is a very bad idea.”

“But I stole them for you!” Wade insisted, pouting. “Why do you think you’re still so short?”

“Wait, what?”

...

“Jarvis, buddy, what happened?” Tony asked, once Wade had gone. If there was ever a bag of cats crazy, that guy was it, and he needed to know how the man got in.

“Mr. Wade Wilson insisted that he was only acting in the best interest of Little Miss.” Jarvis answered. “He sounded genuine, and as you programmed me with the proper algorithms to predict such things, I thought to agree to allow his entry. If he was not sincere in any way, he agreed to let me test out some of the more stringent security measures. I believe he wished to test them anyway, but insuring Little Miss’ health seemed more important to him. Was what I did wrong, Sir?”

That’s the thing. Tony wasn’t sure.

“Let’s just play it by ear, okay, buddy?” Tony suggested. “We’ve got it set up that people can’t just…I don’t know…teleport in or something, but I want to be alerted next time someone comes in like that, even if it’s Wade. I can’t be a good host if I sleep through the visit.”

Hera was camped out on the living room couch, happily sipping on Asgardian goat mead, penning a letter to send to Gringotts about the potential business opportunity. She was also working out what she wanted to send to Aberforth the bartender at the Hog’s Head, and Tom the Barman at the Leaky Cauldron. She insisted all three would jump at the chance this presented, and if that wasn’t another way to stick it to Ásgarðr, she didn’t know what was. The World Eater, who he was not so secretly calling Jimmy, was happily curled up with Jör, and no longer injured the way he had been when they’d seen him through the view screen. Tony wasn’t really sure what to think about letting Hera drink the goat mead, but he could swear she already looked a little taller, and wondered if perhaps it might help him recover some height too: He might actually kill just to be a little taller. A knock at the door proved that at least the goblins’ security measures were working, as Tony found a rather grumpy looking Severus Snape waiting.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on outside your property right now?” The man demanded as he glared, by way of greeting.

“Wade said he brought a few goats.” Tony sighed. If anything, the man glared at him harder. “I’m guessing there more than just a few?”

Instead of answering, Snape pulled him roughly out the door, and pointed sharply in the direction of what could loosely be called his backyard…which was covered in goats.

“Heraaaaaaa!!!” Tony shouted for the sake of volume, already panicking as he hauled ass back into the house, practically sliding through the kitchen, and skidding to a stop when he got to the living room. “Hera, we have a problem! Wade didn’t just steal a few goats from Ass-Guard. I think he stole all of them!”

“I feel like I’m missing something.” Snape sighed, following Tony into the house at a casual pace. “Who is Wade? How did he get into Ásgarðr? Also, why is Potter drinking mead?”

“Wade Wilson is Dead Pool, otherwise known as the Merc with a Mouth. I have no idea how he got into Ásgarðr, but it’s not using the pathways of Yggðrasil, and I find it’s best just to nod and accept it. Wade said Asgardian goat mead would make me taller.” Hera answered each question in order, before taking another sip of mead through the little umbrella straw she’d somehow found to put in the glass…for reasons. “He also made a mountain of pancakes, if you’re hungry.”

“You shouldn’t have started drinking mead from an alien realm until it’s been tested!” Snape objected. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I’d like to be taller.” Here admitted frankly, before taking another sip; causing the man to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, which just made Tony start laughing at them both.

...

It isn’t until the business with MACUSA is done, the goats are sent to Aberforth – as she didn’t for a second believe the rumour that he abused the goats already in his care. He seemed jaded and bitter, not lecherous – , and the professor taking samples of the mead for testing, that things settle in Hera’s mind. The night before had been real. She’d been wished away, and damn it if she wasn’t still mad about that, but she wasn’t sure she should tell Tony. She’d almost lost him, and just thinking that had her bursting into tears, plowing into Tony to hug him in an effort to make him feel real again. He didn’t ask questions, just awkwardly wrapped his arms around her to hold her as she cried, waiting till her tears had subsided a little to talk with her.

“I know. It’s okay. I know.” He assured her. “I had a meeting with the Goblin King, and wow that was a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

“Really? How did that go?” Hera asked, trying to wipe her tears away with her sleeves.

“I punched him in the face.” Tony replied unrepentant, causing her to giggle. “Other than that, everything went fine. We got to watch parts of your adventure via some kind of magic viewing screen in an office of Gringotts.”

They swapped stories about what had happened or what they’d seen. Hera still didn’t understand Tony’s fascination with her telling him stories like this, and she still wasn’t sure what a Dungeon Master was, but she found that she loved sharing these things with him almost as much as he loved hearing about them. Her favorite part of Tony’s stories on what he’d seen was Thor’s dip in the Bog of Eternal Stench, and Professor Snape’s offer of future contributions. It scared her, the anger she held for Thor, the anger she held for Dumbledore; that anger had ruled over her once, in the life she tried not to think of as her own, and she didn’t want to make that mistake again. Tony, perhaps recognizing her need for distraction, began telling stories of his best friend Rhodey, and all the crazy things they got into over the years; embarrassing nicknames included.

Chapter Text

Chapter 50

Before the quest's end...

When next Thor returned home, he was going to give that book another look through. He didn’t remember reading about tiny flying creatures that got mad at you when your head didn’t come off like theirs apparently did. He also didn’t remember reading about giant piles of garbage, or the wall of hands. The places those hands had touched as they…Thor blushed just thinking of it now, shaking his head to rid his mind of such things. It was all over now, at least.

He’d done it. He’d made it through the Labyrinth in time to save the Lady Hera from the fate he’d dealt her, though he was covered in grim and a little worse for wear. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do that would ever make up for what he’d done. Hopefully, she would find it within herself to forgive him, but Thor very much doubted that. In that regard, Lady Hera reminded him quite strongly of his little brother. She would not forgive him easily, and he did not deserve it regardless.

“Release Lady Hera.” Thor demanded, upon seeing the Goblin King. Why did the foul cretin act as if nothing was wrong? He’d been defeated!

“I don’t think I shall.” The Goblin King denied lazily, amused, raising his hand when Thor went to object. “Beware, Prince Thor. You have made designs to trespass upon my lands with thoughts to take what was never yours. I have been generous up until now, but I can be cruel.”

“Generous?” Thor asked, incredulous. “What have you done that’s generous?”

“Everything!” The Goblin King shouted, angry at him now. “Everything that you wanted, I have done. You wanted Lady Hera taken. I took her. You cowered before me. I was frightening. I have reordered time. I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you. I am exhausted from living up to your expectations of me. Isn’t that generous?”

“It wasn’t what I wanted.” Thor objected.

“No, but it is what you wished for, so it’s what you were given.” The Goblin King reminded him. Thor lowered his head in shame once more. This was something else Loki often harped on him about, being careful with ones words.

…but he couldn’t just leave it like this…

“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City.” Thor declared, making his way up the steps. He had to try. He had to save her. “For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great, and…and…Damn it all, what was that last line?”

“It won’t matter. You’ve already failed.” The Goblin King stated confidently. “She’s already one of us!”

How could the man know that? He hadn’t yet failed. He hadn’t! All he wanted was to save his friend! Surely that was not too much to wish for? He didn’t care about the sword anymore. He just wanted his friend back!

So focused on the Goblin King, and trying to remember the words that would free his friend, Thor almost missed the nervous look the man had gotten. Was this some new distraction method? Thor thought not, not with the clouds coming in, and the thunder that rolled. He turned to see just what it was that the Goblin King was looking at, and saw…Mjölnir was in his hand before he’d finished the thought, the power of it coursing through his veins as it harmonized with his own, and for once Thor knew exactly what to say.

“For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great.” Thor spoke, his words rumbling like thunder around them, as he twirled the hammer. “You have no power over me.”

Thor let it go, knowing it would strike true. He was not expecting a shout of defiance, or for Lady Hera to come rushing out to them. He most definitely did not expect her to quickly cast a shield charm so strong that it physically stopped Mjölnir; the sound of the collision reverberating throughout the area. Thor called the weapon back to him, not wanting to hurt his friend, but he did not understand what was going on. What had happened that she would defend the one that had stole her away?

“I will not let you harm my king!” Hera shouted, enraged, shocking him into silence before he could speak. He must have still made to open his mouth, at the very least, but she raised her hand to halt his words. “NO! For once in your bloody life, Thor, think before you open your big mouth!”

Not thinking before he ‘opened his big mouth’, as she put it, is what had gotten them into this mess. Thinking they could have grand adventures together, that she would follow in his boundless enthusiasm as so many others often did, is what had lead them here. He had thought if they went on this grand adventure together, that she would forget her anger towards him. He’d not expected them to be separated, no matter what the story said, had not realized he would be alone in his quest. She had told him, but he’d disregarded her words, thinking them nothing more than the warnings of one who worried far too much.

“Lady Hera-”

“You almost cost me my brother, you arse!” She shouted, cutting him off. “We’d just found each other! Hadn’t even known before. And you! You! In your eagerness for a grand adventure you could brag about to your friends, or whatever woman you fancied a good fuck out of, wished me away for a bloody sword! And you really thought I was going to just sit around and wait for you to rescue me?! As if!!!”

When put like that, it sounded quite bad, and he grimaced. He’d hoped she would be overjoyed to see him, even though he was the reason she’d been trapped here. He would rescue her, and they would go on the quest for the sword together, and all would be well. It would be a grand adventure they could tell their friends once they’d returned victorious. But as he went through the dangers and hardships the book had warned him existed, and a few that it had not, he’d come to realize that this was not going to be one of those moments.

“’Tis true I did not think of what my actions would wrought, and I should have listened when you warned me I did not understand the power words can have.” Thor admitted, humbled in this moment. “But we can leave now. I made it here in time, and we can go back home. We can leave, just us. I no longer care for the sword. I did not even before Mjölnir found me worthy. Your friendship is all that matters, Lady Hera. Please, you need not stay here, held by the Goblin King against your will.”

“I’m not leaving with you, Thor.” Hera stated, shaking her head. There was something in the way she spoke those words that sent a chill of dread through him, as if he were already too late.

“But I made it in time! I fought through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered to reach the castle beyond the Goblin City!” Thor objected. Surely it was not too late? “To save you!”

“And did you not think for one bloody second that I might have a problem with that?” She demanded, pulling him up short. “Why would I wait around for you to save me, when you’re the one that got me into this mess in the first place?”

“The Wisher is to make the Run. I know I read that part correctly.” Thor argued. “The book said nothing of the Wished Away rescuing themselves. I admit I did not consider it a possibility because of this.”

“It is not often done, because the one wished away is not usually old enough for the choice to be offered.” The Goblin King stated, reminding Thor that he was still there.

“If you stay here, you’ll be a goblin, Lady Hera.” Thor insisted, ignoring the king for now. Clearly he had some kind of mental hold over her that Thor was powerless to break, but that did not mean he couldn’t try. “Come away with me. Please?”

“Did you or did you not encounter more than just goblins while here?” Hera reminded him, crossing her arms. He had, but hadn’t the book… “I’m not leaving with you, Thor.”

“But if you stay, I’ll never be able to see you again!” Thor objected, sensing that perhaps he was not going to win after all. “Mother will be devastated!”

“Where does it say that?” Hera snorted, leveling him with an unimpressed look on her face. “Just because I refuse to leave with you, doesn’t mean I can’t leave at all. It made no mention that I was to be trapped here in any way, just that I would be one of them. Such a pity.”

“But…”

“Go home, Thor,” Hera demanded, before wrinkling her nose and an unpleasant expression crossed her face. “and take a bath. You reek.”

The full-length mirror was suddenly on the platform with them, and Thor could see the library he’d left from. Loki was even there searching for him!

“Brother!” Thor exclaimed, before realizing that Loki most likely could not hear him. A thought came to him, and he turned to Lady Hera. “You did not wait for me to rescue you, yet you are still one of them. You defended the Goblin King, the one who took you away. I do not understand.”

“I wasn’t going to wait around for you to rescue me, Thor. For all I knew, you were going to go for the sword and leave me here, thinking I could just disappear out like always.” Hera reminded him. He ducked his head down in a grimace once more, having thought that exact thing when she’d disappeared at first. “So I went on a quest of my own, got citizenship, and the ability to go home to my brother. If I have to choose between waiting around to be rescued like some damsel in distress, and finding my own way out, I’d rather just rescue my own self.”

Thor nodded, and took a step towards the mirror, knowing that was where he needed to go. He’d stepped through a mirror to get to this land. It would stand to reason that he needed to step through a mirror to leave it. However, before he reached his destination, Thor paused. He couldn’t leave things the way they were.

“There is no apology I could give you that would be great enough to cover what I’ve done, what I could have taken from you, Lady Hera.” Thor stated, surprising her with the words, and didn’t that just cut deep knowing that she hadn’t expected him to apologize at all. “’Tis not enough for me to say the words and mean them, I know that now, but…Could you ever come to forgive me my folly?”

She looked away, and his shoulders slumped in disappointment, having hoped despite everything.

“It’s too raw right now, Thor. I can’t answer that as I am.” She finally replied, still not looking at him. “Maybe some day, just…just not right now. Okay?”

Thor nodded, but hesitated at the mirror again.

“I’m not leaving with you, Thor.” Hera insisted, as if sensing his final plea. “Go home. Take a bath. I wasn’t kidding when I said you reek.”

“Then I bid you farewell, Lady Hera, and hope to see you under better tidings.” Thor said in parting, giving a deep bow, and a slight nod to the Goblin King, surprising the both of them. Without another word, he turned, and stepped through the mirror.

…

~Remember the lessons you have learned this day, Prince Thor, Do not make me repeat this~

…

“Thor! I knew you were shirking your responsibilities!” Loki scolded, finally catching sight of his older brother. Smelling something horrid, Loki wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Where have you been? What have you been doing? You smell like you’ve rolled around in a bog.”

Thor only gives a tired laugh. “’Tis not far off, Brother. Perhaps I will tell you the tale later. For now, I have been advised that a bath…or maybe several…may be in order.”

“There’s no time. Mother and Father wish us to dine with them this eve, and you know how Mother is about these things.” Loki insisted, already pushing him towards the door.

“I think she would far rather I not make others run for the hills with my stench!” Thor objected, though he did not resist quite as much as he would have otherwise.

“Then you should have thought about that before somehow finding a bog to roll around in when you should have been studying.” Loki shot back. “It took me ages to get Father to realize how lax you have been in your studies. If you think I am going to sit beside you and be your constant adviser, you and the AllFather have another thing coming.”

“Really?” Thor wondered in surprise. He had thought his brother would always be by his side. “What do you plan on doing while I glory in being king?”

“I plan to travel the Nine, maybe even beyond, seeking knowledge.” Loki insisted as they went. “I want to explore everything, see everything. I can not do that if I’m stuck by your side as a boring adviser. Have you seen them? Father’s sleeps when he thinks the AllFather isn’t looking! I will not allow that to become my lot in life.”

“’Tis good you have dreams to chase, my son.” Their mother commented, causing both boys to jump slightly, having not sensed her. A sort of pained expression crossed her face, however, her nose wrinkling as Loki’s had. “What in all the realms is that foul odour?”

“T’would be me, Mother.” Thor admitted with a grimace. “I…I found a book Loki had not left for me, a tale of adventure, and wished away the Lady Hera in order to go on a quest. In my quest to save her from my folly, I fell into something called the Bog of Eternal Stench. ’Tis most vexing.”

“You keep speaking of a Lady Hera, and yet I have never met her.” Loki wondered. Thor could practically hear the envy in Loki’s voice, as Thor had spoken of both her might in battle and magics.

“Thor, you…You wished her away?” She asked in barely restrained anguish.

“I wanted us to go on a quest together for a sword! ’Tis not what I thought it would be, however, and I understand now why she tried to warn me away from such a venture.” Thor reasoned. “The sword was not important. I should have never wished her away, but in my quest to free her, Mjölnir found me worthy; a small consolation when I consider what could have happened.”

“I still remember her…You were successful then?” She asked, her eyes hopeful as they searched the library fleetingly.

“No. I was not.” Thor admitted, saddened when his mother let out a small sound of pain. She looked confused when he cracked a small rueful smile. “She rescued herself.”

“This sounds like a story to share over dinner.” Their mother decided, guiding them both out. “I look forward to hearing it in its entirety, and then maybe we can do something about the smell.”

…

Oðin had never been one to shy away from his eldest son, but as the smell hit him full force, he found himself doing just that. It was enough that even the servants could not maintain their decorum for long, some excusing themselves in short shifts to be able to breathe before returning. If Frigga had not whispered to him of Thor’s folly, he would have thought this an overly enthusiastic prank of his youngest son. As it was, Loki glared at any of the servants that were a little more obvious about their displeasure at the stench, and he suspected many would feel the trickster’s ire soon enough. According to Frigga, Thor had wished away a Lady Hera, and had gone on a quest to free her.

He’d heard of this Lady Hera from Frigga, of course. His wife was quite fond of the girl, and would oft speak of her. He knew quite well that Frigga would formally adopt the girl if she could get her to agree, but as of yet they’d not spoken on the matter. He himself had not yet met her, as the young one was hesitant to allow it. Frigga called her ‘Lítit Auðit’, had described the mark of Sowilo upon her brow, and it made him wonder why the girl refused to meet with him.

“The Goblin King?” Oðin inquired, having caught a particularly interesting strand in Thor’s tale. “You went to what Miðgarðr calls The Underground?”

“I did not know the realm existed, and Lady Hera had tried to warn me against the quest. I was too eager.” Thor nodded as he continued. “I had meant to go on a quest for a sword of goblin make.”

“Did you find it?” Oðin questioned, knowing the sword Thor spoke of. He did not know, could not know, what it had been used for; but if he had stumbled upon the knowledge…Even Loki did not know, not after Fenrir had been taken away.

“No, sadly I did not. ‘Twould have made a find addition to our armoury.” Thor lamented. Oðin tried not to let his relief show, though Frigga frowned when she saw it, having not agreed with his decision in the first place. “As I was saying, Lady Hera rescued herself, not wishing to be parted from her newly discovered brother any longer than necessary. She is quite formidable.”

“Let this be a lesson to you, Thor, never to take those around you for granted.” Frigga warned. “Just because we are long lived does not mean malady and misfortune can not befall us.”

“How did Lady Hera free herself?” Oðin wondered. He could see Loki and Frigga were equally curious about this as well.

“I do not know. She did not see fit to tell me, and was quite cross with me for endangering the growing bond between her and her newly discovered brother.” Thor relayed. “She gets quite cross with me whenever she hears of how Loki is treated by our friends. I imagine her wish for a sibling aids her anger, and when she discovered she had a brother of her own, she did not wish to be parted from him.”

“Your friends, Thor, not mine.” Loki grumbled, though he looked confused as to why someone he did not know would defend him; the argument of their friends an old one.

“You could have gone with him, you know.” Jareth stated, once Thor had gone.

“I know, but Fenrir is still being seen by your healers.” Hera explained. “I wasn’t about to leave him when I’d sworn to be here for him. I want to go back to Tony, but…”

“You honour your word.” He noted with pride.

“I am loath to ever break it.” She corrected. “I can not say I have never or will never break it, the chaotic circumstances of my life being what they are.”

“’Tis more than most can claim.” Jareth nodded to her. “When Fenrir is healed, the two of you will be able to leave the Underground in much the same way Thor did. In the meantime, what would you say to learning a bit of magic?”

“Tell me why you insist on wearing pants so tight you might as well sing soprano for the rest of your insanely long life, and I’ll agree to learn whatever magic you want.” She shot back, and he could not help but throw his head back and laugh at the bluntness of her words. “Seriously though, those crystal balls you play with aren’t your actual balls…are they?”

AN: There are A LOT of Labyrinth quotes in this, so I just didn't put the little * beside them. So many

Chapter Text

Chapter 51

Things had sort of calmed down after that; other than the apoplectic fit she’d caused MACUSA to have when she’d walked in cool as a cucumber with both the World Eater and the World Serpent, having needed to register Fenrir as a newly bonded Familiar. Hera kept in contact with that boy she’d tried to help, Matt, which was just this side of legal. She’d lucked out with them being from a squib line that had migrated over from Ireland. Apparently, The US had had a problem with actual honest-to-God witch hunters up until quite recently, and so they were all more than a little paranoid at anything Hera did that could bring magic out into the open again. Tony got started with his raising awareness for Mutant Rights thing in order to hopefully bring about a bill that included anyone with special abilities, and it wasn’t long before people began to wonder why.

Introducing her to the people in his work life had been hit or miss. Hera did not care for Obadiah at all, and flat out refused to be in a room alone with him. Tony was certain she would tell him why if he asked outright, but he wasn’t sure how much more she should tell him of his own future. Happy was a driver/body guard/friend that Hera took an instant liking to, and when Tony suggested she have a body guard when she went out on her own (even though she didn’t need it), she’d chosen Happy over any of the others. She hadn’t really liked Pepper much, but it didn't feel like the same as Obadiah, so he was sure it was something that would work itself out over time.

Hera’s first gala had been awful. Oh, the night itself had been wonderful, and everyone she spoke with had been interested in the joint venture she and Tony were thinking of taking on. It was only in the idea phase, but new tech was new tech to them, and they were eager to throw their money at something they didn’t even really know about yet. Any trouble she had with a guest was easily taken care of by Happy, though how they got those broken wrists before the man even got to them would be her little secret. All in all the night had been fun, but what brassed her off was the fact that Tony had taken up with some woman, and had left her there thinking she would be okay if Happy took her home; she hadn’t even known he was gone till she’d asked Happy if he could help her find him some few hours after he’d already left. Her anger skyrocketed when she saw Pepper standing outside Tony’s bedroom the next morning.

“Tell me he doesn’t make you get rid of them the morning after.” Hera demanded by way of greeting.

“I am his PA, Miss Potter.” Pepper sighed, thin lipped, shoulders tense; though Hera could see it was more about defending her own pride than defending Tony.

“You deserve better.” Hera asserted, surprising the woman, before a wicked idea crossed her mind. “She still in there?”

Pepper nodded.

“I have an idea. Jarvis, I want you to record this. No need to reply right now. I don’t want to alert the woman too soon, and this requires a certain level of finesse.” Hera schemed, before looking over to Pepper once more. “You can watch, if you want, over by the far wall.”

“Why are you doing this?” Pepper asked, keeping her voice low now to match Hera’s.

“Tony has shown a level of disrespect I hadn’t thought him capable of. He didn’t respect me when he left me alone at that gala last night without telling me he was leaving at all, he doesn’t respect you if he’s making you clean up after his sexual escapades, and he certainly doesn’t respect the people he sleeps with if he’s forcing them to endure having someone else turn them away the morning after.” Hera replied, before squaring her shoulders as she prepared to enter the room. “That stops today.”

She quietly entered the room, making sure to suppress the click of the door as she entered. Pepper followed in after her, though she hid in an out of the way spot by the far wall, as Hera had suggested. The woman still lay sleeping, even when Hera raised the top covers enough to slip in under them. She wasn’t about to look under all of them, knowing the woman was most likely naked, and Hera was glad she herself was wearing pajamas, even with the layer of covers between the two. It was actually quite easy to slip into a light doze after that, though she woke up when the woman turned to snuggle in what Hera guessed was a half sleep, and Hera internally grinned as she put on her best innocent face before implementing ‘the plan’.

“Are you gonna be my new mom?”

The horrified screech that came from that woman would have put banshees to shame, before she was practically leaping across the room wearing the covers she could pull with her. Never before had Hera seen anyone move so quickly. It was kind of impressive really. Hera’s not even sure how the woman found her clothes so fast, or how she’d put them on under the covers she held tightly to herself, but she’d done it, bolting out of that room like her arse was on fire. Both Hera and Pepper had sort of blinked owlishly at the sight, before descending into laughing fits once the woman was actually gone.

“I’m guessing that’s a no then?” Hera added, once she’d managed to calm down, only for that to send the two women back into laughing fits once more.

“That was…That was…” Pepper tried through her laughter. “That was brilliant! And awful! I can’t believe you did that!”

“Come on, I’ll make us breakfast. We deserve something sugar filled after that.” Hera proposed with a smug grin.

“Oh no. We’re going out.” Pepper countered. “Go and get dressed. I know the perfect place for a sugar filled celebratory breakfast.”

“Alright, but I’m going to hop in the shower first. Merlin only knows what contaminates those sheets. Adults are gross.” Hera agreed happily, and scooted out of the bed, racing to her room.

Once she’d showered and dressed, she found Pepper in the living room ready to go. Happy was standing out by the door, already waiting on them.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, Little Miss?” The AI responded, clearly amused at her antics.

“Wait till Tony asks where we are before telling him, and then show him the video, if you wouldn’t mind.” Hera stated. “Make sure you let him know the women in his life are tired of being disrespected, and action will be taken if he keeps to this behaviour.”

“Will do, Little Miss.” Jarvis agreed, sounding like he very much approved. “Have a safe trip.”

“Thank you, Jarvis!” Hera replied in parting, and the three left.

“Do you realize how worried I was?” Tony demanded as soon as she stepped into the house, sitting on the couch.

“No more so than I was when you left me at that gala all by myself last night, with Happy being the only exception, all so that you could go get laid.” Hera snapped back scathingly, shocking him enough that his jaw actually fell open. “You didn’t even tell me you were leaving. That would have been better. I had to find out on my own! People thought it was funny that you had been gone for hours, and that I’d had no idea. Instead of being concerned that a child had been left alone, they’d laughed like it was the greatest thing. I could have been kidnapped. How long would it have taken you to notice? The night? The next day? When did I register as a thought to you, Tony?!”

His arms were around her before she’d even realized it, and it hits her that she’d started crying somewhere in her angry rant at him.

“What was I supposed to think when you just left me there?” Hera demanded, hiccupping as she cried. “Thor just wished me away! Not his brother! Me! Why would you just leave me like that?!”

“I’m sorry, Blue. I thought you’d been told. No wonder you flipped out.” Tony apologized, no longer sounding angry at her. “When I couldn’t find you, I lost it. I’ve been calling everyone I could think of, trying to see if they knew where you were. I didn’t even listen to whatever it was Jarvis was trying to tell me.”

“Pepper and I bonded over sugary goodness for breakfast, and then we went shopping.” She scolded, through her tears. “Jarvis was supposed to play you something when you figured out we weren’t here.”

“I can play it now, if you would like, Little Miss.” The AI announced.

“Why?” Tony asked, backing away to give her space to wipe her eyes with her sleeves. “You’re here now.”

“Trust me.” She insisted, giving him a watery smile. “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

After that, Tony had insisted on a family night, where he put away all distractions so they could focus on being a family. More often than not this was several nights a week, and they had sort of been trying to do this before anyway. He introduced her to a few new things each time, occasionally revisiting ones that she’d shown interest in during previous family nights. They’re settled on a rather comfy couch this time, covered in light blankets, and surrounded by snacks, trying to kick each other’s arses at something called Mario Kart. Tony had been sporadically stealing her snacks, despite having the exact same thing on his side of the couch, when he notices the goofy expression on her face.

“What’s going on over there?” He asks, wearing a similar goofy expression as he nudges her shoulder with his own. “What are you thinking, Violet?”

(She’d finally watched that movie, during one of their family nights, just to understand that reference. Tony had laughed at the suggestion, but had gone all out for the evening.)

“This is good, yeah?” She asks, nudging him back.

“Yeah.” He agreed, settling more comfortably into the couch. “This is good.”

She hesitates here, wanting to ask, but still so nervous. What if he refuses? Even after everything, she still struggles with ‘Don’t Ask Questions’. “Can I…Can I call you Brother?”

She hears the intake of breath, like he hadn’t expected that.

“Only if I get to call you Sis.” He bargains, his voice affected by emotions just as hers is.

She sighs in happiness and relief, settling back into leaning against him as they prepare for another race. “I’m glad you’re my brother, Tony.”

“I’ve always wanted a little sister.” He admitted shyly, before clearing his throat as he tried to pretend he wasn’t as affected as he was by the dreaded ‘feelings’. “Don’t think that means I’m going to go easy on you here.”

She just snorts, grinning to herself. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“So…Your birthday’s coming up.” Tony mentioned casually one day over dinner. “Anything you wanna do?”

Hera froze. “Uh…Do?”

“Yeah. Do.” Tony nodded, picking at his sashimi.

“This doesn’t count?” She hedged with a grimace. He levels her with a look he hopes conveys ‘what do you think?’, and she sighs. “Tony, you shut down an entire restaurant just so I could try the food here without feeling like people were staring at me, and all because I told you one time that I didn’t believe the cutesy food I saw in that anime you introduced me to could exist in reality.”

Hera had opted for a Bento Box with what looked like cute little characters in it. The rice balls even looked like cute little pandas. The place itself had a very traditional feel to it, mixed with the kawaii style she spoke of now. She wasn’t wrong though. She’d made a comment once after watching an anime he would not admit liking to anyone else, and before he knew it he was moving mountains to make sure she could try it without judgment.

“I may have a bit of a problem.” Tony allowed with a grin. “Still doesn’t answer my question though. It’s your fifteenth, sixteenth if we’re counting that thing in third year you talked about. That’s an important milestone. We should celebrate. Also, what do you want for a gift. Any ideas?”

“Tony, you…” She blinked owlishly, unable to form words for a moment. “You adopted me. What other gift could I ask for that would top that?”

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, even as he teared up a little, looking down at his food.

“Is it the wasabi?” She asks gently. His sashimi doesn’t have a stitch of wasabi on it, and she knows it, but she’s willing to give him the cover story; especially after he’d told her why he didn’t like to have things handed to him.

“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, or a big to do. It could be just us, something like this, or we could bring your friends over.” Tony continued, though he made a point of stealing a little of her wasabi. “We could kick each others asses at Mario Kart again, and eat way too many snacks.”

“What did you end up doing for your sixteenth?” Hera asked, curious, looking over at him.

“A supermodel.” He admitted blatantly deadpan. “Howard hired her for me.”

Her expression went from an eye roll of exasperated amusement to horror in seconds, knowing that he wasn’t lying about that. He wasn’t sure that she could turn off the ability to always know when someone was lying to her, but he’d tested it out a few times with small things; like him having eaten breakfast that morning, or slept at all the night before. She was adamant that if he didn’t want to tell her something, to just say so, because she never wanted to pull the truth from him just because she knew when he lied. Still, it was nice having someone who didn’t feel the need to question him when he said things like that. It was nice having someone who automatically believed him, who knew he wasn’t lying, and didn’t tell him he was just over reacting or exaggerating what happened. He could count on one hand the amount of people he would let down his guard enough to tell this story to, that he’d trust not to sell that story to whatever paper would print it.

“Yeah.” He continued. “What I wanted more than anything was for my father to acknowledge me, to spend the day with me, but what I got was a brush off and a supermodel to occupy my time. Mom was…distant by this point, so I didn’t even think to go to her afterwards. Jarvis – my dad’s butler, not the AI – ended up finding me later. I don’t want to tell you where he found me…He invited me to his place, where his wife Ana was waiting with a fully decorated birthday bash so well done it was like they’d planned it. They couldn’t have, but still. They’d even managed to get Rhodey. It was…It was nice. I felt more love from them in that moment than…Anyway, I shouldn’t be pushing my wishes onto you, I know that. I just don’t want you to regret not having done anything, you know?”

“Tony…” She falters. If he asked, he’s pretty sure she’d bring his father back to life just so she could kill him herself. Best not to open that can of worms; not really sure how that particular bit of magic works anyway. “I just…You don’t have to go through all that trouble…I…”

“It’s not a trouble, or a bother, or any other unpleasant adjective you’re currently thinking of.” He insisted gently. “Anything you want. Anything at all.”

“Anything?” She asks, softly. She looks away, but he’s already seen the hope and doubt play across her face. “Ice skating. I want to try ice skating.”

That’s a surprise.

“I’m just afraid I’ll turn blue, and if we’re in a public place…” She falters again. “I know we plan on announcing my ‘mutant’ status at some point, but…It’s my birthday. I don’t want to be put on display like that on my birthday.”

She didn’t want to ask him to shut down another place, where he already had here, just so she could try ice skating without the risk of someone seeing her turn blue before the announcement.

“Hera, that’s no trouble at all.” Tony agrees, right around the time their waiter comes back by.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” The young man asks, surprised when Hera turns to him and starts talking in what Tony later learns is an eastern dialect of Japanese.

He can’t help but take pictures as what had been a simple request to compliment the chef turned into a full on lesson in how to prep and cook various foods. She’d felt guilty for taking up their whole day, and when she’d realized they still had prep, offered to help if they showed her how. She ends up with her very own uniform, talking in languages he couldn’t quite understand, having the time of her life. The cooks love her, and there’s one who clearly knows who she is on the wizarding side of things. The look he gets from that one isn’t threatening towards her, but appreciative, thankful.

“She is very special, your sister, Tony-sama.” The one cook in particular said to him, having made his way to him while the others continued their work. He’d been here enough times that they knew not to call him Stark. Tony-sama was the compromise. “You know this, I hope?”

She’d looked over once, worried that he’d be mad because she’d ended up derailing their plans, but his small smile seemed to put her at ease.

Tony nodded, still fondly watching Hera as she worked with the chefs. “Yeah. Sometimes, I’m still surprised by just how much.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“She is very special, your sister, Tony-sama.” The one cook in particular said to him, having made his way to him while the others continued their work. He’d been here enough times that they knew not to call him Stark. Tony-sama was the compromise. “You know this, I hope?”

She’d looked over once, worried that he’d be mad because she’d ended up derailing their plans, but his small smile seemed to put her at ease.

Tony nodded, still fondly watching Hera as she worked with the chefs. “Yeah. Sometimes, I’m still surprised by just how much.”

Chapter 52

It takes Tony a little while before he can find an ice skating rink that will willingly shut down for an obscene amount of money no questions asked. Finding an instructor that had no problems with mutants – in case she turned blue – and who wouldn’t sell the story as soon as they could was a little harder. In the end, he had Pepper draw up a few NDA’s just in case. At least then, if a story was printed from this, he’d be able to sue whoever it was six ways to Sunday for ruining what should have been a perfect day for his little sister. It was Pepper who ended up finding someone for him, and though their name sounded a little familiar, he didn’t think much about it till they got to the actual place…only to be faced with the Goblin King once more.

“Really, Ziggy?” He can’t help but ask; and though Hera doesn’t get the reference, Jareth grins slightly because he does. “Really?”

“I was contacted by your Pepper Potts. You can hardly fault me.” Jareth explained, with a mischievous grin that betrayed his projected innocence.

“And who’s fault is it that your profile just happened to be exactly what she was looking for?” Tony countered, arching an eyebrow at the Fae King. Really, what was his life now, that he was trading barbs with Fae royalty like this was any other Tuesday?

“Ah, now in that, the fault is mine.” Jareth admitted, giving them a slight bow. “I do have more than one reason for being here. I did agree to aid Hera in this, but I also thought it fitting to give her a gift.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything!” Hera insisted, waving her hands in front of her like she was trying to stop the whole thing, suddenly alarmed. “You’re here to help me try ice skating. That counts! Plus, I have Fenrir and that weapon. Do you want that back, by the way? I never even asked. It's still a sword right now though. It hasn't shifted to anything, but then again I've not tried to use it either, and-”

“There is no need. I believe it will serve you far better than it ever could me.” Jareth stated, easing some of her worry. “Now, you will need the proper footwear. Yes?”

He snaps his fingers, and a slightly worn pair of ice skates her size appeared on the floor before her.

“Why not new ones?” Hera asked out of curiosity, already picking them up, inspecting them. “Are they like regular shoes in that they feel better once worn in?”

“Less pinching.” Jareth nodded, looking happy about her inquiry. It occurred to Tony that Hera was perhaps the first child the Fae had spoken to in a long time that did not want him to be anything than what he was, that did not want something she had no right to have. “Will you be joining us as well, Tony?”

“I didn’t bring any skates.” Tony shook his head no. Another set appeared next to him, and he chuckled in spite of himself, sitting down next to Hera to begin taking off his shoes. “It’s been a while, but I think I can keep up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you could ice skate?” Hera asked, pausing lacing hers up so she can lightly smack him.

“Because I wouldn’t have been able to teach you anything.” Tony shrugged. “I can kind of coast, follow along, but beyond that I’m hopeless. Now, when you want to learn how to drive, I’m all over that. Then we can play Mario Kart for real.”

Hera giggled in spite of herself, bumping shoulders with him before going back to her own laces. As previously stated, all he was really able to do was follow along with them. He could navigate just fine, but the fancy moves that Jareth seamlessly guided Hera through were way out of his league. Hera was a natural on the ice, automatically trusting that Jareth wouldn’t do something stupid and risk her safety, and by the end of the day Hera was radiating happiness. Only Tony seemed to catch the way Jareth looked at her thoughtfully, because she had indeed turned blue slowly over the course of the lesson.

“My friend, why did you not tell me?” Jareth finally asked, once they’d all returned from the ice, each choosing to unlace their skates rather than having them vanished away.

Hera froze momentarily in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lok-” Neither of them were prepared for Hera to quite literally launch herself, still wearing untied ice skates, off the bench in order to clamp her hand over Jareth’s mouth.

“I am, but I am not, do you understand?” She demanded urgently. Jareth only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Remember what I told you about the potion? Being both here and not here? I only exist because he died choosing to become me, but he isn’t dead yet. Understand?”

Jareth slowly nodded, and she released her hold on him. “Why did you not tell me?”

“I didn’t exactly remember that he knew you till just now. There’s a lot going on up in there, you know.” Hera huffed, half pointing/jabbing at her own skull. “I can’t risk too many people calling me his name before things happen, because they might not happen at all, and then I won’t exist. Paradoxes are a pain. How did you even guess who I had been?”

“Your lines. They are the same as his, and no two Jötunn have lines exactly the same as any other.” Jareth replied, pointing to the ones on her hands. “I had always been able to see his. It’s why Oðin forced me to agree to never see him again, because he feared I might tell his son what he was. Before...I had always assumed my friend knew, but an offhand comment revealed to me that he did not, and I foolishly challenged the All-Father for an answer in his defense without his knowledge. I have not seen my friend since that day, not truly, and you…He still lives, but he will die to become you?”

“It’s complicated, and it isn’t pretty…” Hera warned, but Jareth still looked pleadingly to her for answers, and she caves. “You can’t try to change it…You have to promise.”

“I pleaded with the Norns to find a way to help him.” Jareth relented. “I know not if ’twas my plea that swayed them among the many that did so, but if this is how they chose to answer it, who am I to interfere? You have my word. I will not try to change what happens to him, nor will I have others attempt such in my stead. It’s strange that I could not see your lines till now.”

The version of the story Hera gives him is abridged, and Tony can see that Jareth knows it, but he can also see that Jareth understands in a way he doesn’t yet. Jareth knows the people she softly speaks of, has met and judged them; has found them wanting, if the Fae's curled lips in disgust are anything to go by. She explains the bridge, lightly glosses over the year or so of torture, gives a quick explanation of the invasion, before rounding things off with Loki’s trial. Odin hadn’t even allowed Loki to speak in his own defense, had kept him muzzled. Only the Norns had allowed him to speak to them, and an unknown entity Hera couldn’t quite describe, with an offered chance; a choice.

“Would you allow me to call you my friend?” Jareth asked, after the explanation is over.

“You already said I was Goblin Friend.” Hera pointed out in confusion. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No. There is a very real difference in being called Goblin Friend by those not of the Kingdom, and being called my friend by me and mine.” Jareth explained, and Hera stills. “You are you, and he is…was he. None more so than I understand that what’s done is done, and what’s said is said, though I do wish I had not given my word to you now…to know that he will be tortured so…Still, he made and will make the choice to become you. I would like to honour that with an offer of friendship for you, if you will allow it.”

“You won’t mistake me for him?” Hera asks, hesitant, hopeful. Tony realizes that as much as she claims not to be Loki any longer, there are parts of that life that she longs to have returned to her; a cherished friend among them.

“You are similar enough that I can think of him fondly without pain, but different enough that I can look forward to whatever new experiences we will share.” Jareth nodded, and so she nodded her agreement. “I would like to give you your gift now, if you like, Hera.”

It was him saying her name, not Loki’s, that finally eased her hesitation. She shyly nods, looking to Tony for reassurances, before Jareth kneels before her. Tony is instantly on alert, because if the movie is to be believed, Jareth has a reputation. Hera fits the type too; dark haired, magic all her own, imagination abound. She doesn’t seem to know what to do with a Fae King kneeling before her, and looks to Tony again.

“Give me your right hand.” Jareth nudges, to which Hera hesitantly does. The Fae king gently places a small ring on her index finger, and Tony notes it has the same symbol as the necklace Jareth wears. “This will tell all others that you are Goblin Friend. It will also tell all those of my Kingdom your place within it. It is the only appropriate gift I could think of for one who has managed to outsmart me while keeping to the agreement of my words. Happy Birthday, Hera.”

Tony waits until Hera finishes removing her ice skates and leaves for the restrooms before cornering the Fae with his questions.

“Tell me you didn’t just give that girl a fucking promise ring.” He demands. “Do you know how old she is?”

“Old enough that it would not matter in the laws of the Fae.” Jareth teases, having sat back down on one of the benches, though he relents when he sees how serious Tony is. “Relax, Tony, brother of my friend. It is as I have explained to her, a physical sign of what she already is within my kingdom. The Above will see her as Goblin Friend. The Underground will see her as Princess. Besides, my mother would slaughter me in the most horrifying manner possible after what happened with Sarah.”

“Just how much of that movie is true?” Tony inquired, teasing now that he knows his sister is not promised as an underage bride.

“An uncomfortable amount of it, I’m afraid.” Jareth admitted with a grimace. “The dates are wrong, so the culture it's set in is out of sync, but little else is; a warning from my mother to be more careful, or else.”

“At least you learned your lesson, I guess?” Tony relented. “Care to join us for dinner? I’m sure Hera’d appreciate that.”

“As much as I would like to, I think I should refrain. I would like to let the knowledge of what I have learned settle a bit first. I do not want to make the mistake of calling her a name that is not her own, and she would rightfully take it personally should I get lost in a memory and call her his name.” Jareth insisted. “Tell her I will visit the two of you soon enough, and wish her a Happy birthday again from me.”

He was gone in a shower of glitter in the blink of an eye.

…

No one notices someone on the far side of the building slipping away, shifting into another person as they go.

“Charles, it’s good to see you.” Magneto nodded to his old friend as he saw him arrive.

“Eric.” Xavier returned the greeting cordially.

The two arriving at the same place like they’d done when they began building their dream was almost nostalgic. Only Mystique and Wolverine being there ruined the full effect, but the similarities were keenly felt all the same. At least no one was fighting this time…for now. He imagined Storm was around somewhere with the cloaked jet. It wasn’t like he didn’t have his own backup should they be needed.

A small explosion inside the house put them all on alert, but the peel of laughter confused them.

~

“I told you not to add that!” A young girl cackled. “Snape is so going to say I told you so later.”

“How was I supposed to know that’s what it would do?” That had to be Stark.

“It says right here in the margins.” The young girl insisted.

“In that chicken scratch? You can actually read that?”

“You mean that elegant spidery writing? Yes, I can read that.”

“Someone has a cruh-ush. Someone has a cruh-ush.” Singsong teasing ensues. “I’m a gonna te-ell. I’m a gonna te-ell.”

“I do not!” The young girl huffs. “Don’t make me stick your tongue to the roof of your mouth again.”

“Hera and Severus sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S Igh Ning Gee Hegh!”

Her laughter filtered out towards them once more.

“That’s what you get!” The young girl managed to say through her giggles.

~

“Perhaps we should announce ourselves?” Magneto suggested, gesturing towards the front door.

…

“Wow, that’s some helmet. Must be hell on the hair.” Tony blurts out upon seeing the eclectic group of people that are standing at his door. “Is there a convention in town, or do you all just wear tight leather for reasons? My sister’s here, and none of you are my type.”

“Mr. Stark, I am Professor Xavier.” The bald guy in the wheelchair stated as if to remind him, and now Tony feels like an ass.

“Okay, still doesn’t explain why there are two leather clad people, one naked chick, and a professor with fancy wheels crowding in front of my door. I mean, I know I have a reputation, but…uh…” Tony trailed off. The naked blue woman shifted into a vaguely familiar person, an ice skating rink worker’s uniform, and he tilts his head in confusion. “You were there, and you didn’t try anything?”

“It was an information gathering mission only.” The blue woman, now having shifted back into being herself again, nodded.

“I appreciate that.” Tony thanked her. “It was her birthday. She didn’t want what she does to be made a spectacle of on her birthday.”

“May we come in?” Asked the guy with cape and helmet. “So that we may not, as you say, crowd your door?”

“We weren’t exactly expecting company.” Tony admitted, scratching at the back of his neck in nervous habit. “I mean, I don’t see why not, but I’ll have to talk to Hera before I talk with any of you, and I’d rather talk to you all before I let you talk to her, if that’s alright.”

“We’re not trying to kidnap her, you know.” The rather wolfish man behind the professor grumbled.

“Just…Let me talk to her first. She’s my sister.” Tony insisted, stubbornly.

“That is more than fair.” Professor Xavier agreed.

“Awesome.” Tony went from stubbornly protective brother to enthusiastic host with a clap of his hands. “Parlor is this way. Anybody want a drink?”

…

“We were seen.” Hera stated, before Tony had even made it fully into the kitchen, where they’d been before. She’d vanished the mess already, and had been thinking about dinner.

“Yeah, but I have a feeling they’ve been doing reconnaissance for a while. I can send them away if you don’t want to talk to them now. I’m pretty sure the wards would kick them out for us.” Tony confirmed. “You okay with this?”

“Yeah. We knew this was going to happen at some point. Might as well get it over with now.” Hera nodded solemnly.

…

“No drinks? You sure?” Tony announced, strolling into the room. No one seemed to want one, besides the wolfish looking man, and the professor glared at him sternly before turning back to Tony. “Alright then. Introductions? You all know who I am, but the only one I’ve been introduced to is the Professor.”

“I am Mystique.” The blue woman replied. Gesturing to the guy in the cape and helmet. “This is Magneto.”

“Ohhkay.” Tony shrugged, turning to the wolfish looking guy.

“Wolverine to you.”

Tony took a second to process the fact that today was just going to be one of those days.

“Okay. First up, you all should know she isn’t a mutant.” Tony began.

“I know what I saw.” Mystique insisted with a frown.

“You really don’t.” Tony countered. “Look, I’ve been given sanction to tell you all this stuff by a secret society I didn’t even know existed before I met her. So when I say I know what I’m talking about, I mean it. She isn’t a mutant, but that’s how we’ll have to portray her; given how public a figure I am, and how exposed to that public she’ll be. That society I spoke of isn’t ready for all the people they protect to be outed. She’s their slow way into public awareness.”

“Why slowly?” Magneto inquired.

“Has the fast and loose approach been working for you?” Tony reposed, noting that no one looked happy about that. “Look. Your approaches aren’t working, either of them. You (he points to Magneto) want instant acceptance, and possibly to lord over how much better than the mundanes you are, and you (he points to the Professor) want to hide mutants in plain sight until acceptance has been reached. No one is going to accept what they can’t see, not like this, and no one is going to instantly accept entire populations that can do things we can’t. It’s basic humanity 101. What we don’t understand, we study, weaponize, or eliminate. I want to change that. She wants to change that, and maybe through your people, hers can find that acceptance too.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 53

“Howlett?” Hera blurts, unable to help herself when she sees who's in the room, upon entering the living room where Tony and the others were meeting.

“Who?” Tony asked for clarification, and Hera pointed to the man.

“That’s James Howlett of the Howling Commandos. The group fought alongside Captain America and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes in World War II. I saw it in the files Hydra had from William Stryker.” Hera informed him, fibbing a little there at the end as she gave him a meaningful look, before looking to the man in question. From the look he gave her, Tony already understood what she meant by that, at least in part; she’d have to tell him the rest later. “You should know that when you went to wipe out Hydra, you might have missed a few.”

“I don’t remember that life.” The man stated roughly. “I go by Wolverine or Logan these days.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume.” Hera insisted with a grimace.

“That’s quite alright.” Another man insisted gently, comforting her. “My name is Charles Xavier. This is Eric-”

“Magneto.” The man interrupted.

“Brothers?” She hazarded a guess.

“Deep bonds of friendship, though brothers would be an apt description. We parted ways when it became clear our ideals were too different to maintain what we had.” Magneto explained. “Charles has never accepted that some things can not go back to the way they were.”

“I know someone like that. I would like to tell you he’ll get better, but all things considering, I highly doubt it.” Hera nodded solemnly, before holding out her hand to him. “Hera Potter. It’s nice to meet you, Magneto.”

“Likewise.” The man nodded with a bemused smile, shaking her hand before letting go.

“You’re like me!” She gasped upon seeing the next person, shifting to blue. “Can you shape shift? I haven’t worked that part out yet, but I know I can do it. I grew all my hair back when it was shaved off once! How about ice? Do you not get cold like everyone else? Do you have a Jötunn ancestor? You sort of have lines like me, but why are your eyes yellow? Why don’t you have horns? How good are your reflexes? What-”

Magneto starts chuckling despite himself. “It appears you have a fan, Mystique.”

“Guess I got a little carried away there.” Hera mumbled, blushing in embarrassment.

“I…don’t know what a Jötunn is, I’m afraid, but I suppose it is possible to have one as an ancestor.” Mystique admitted. “Is that what you are? Your brother said your people are in hiding.”

“Sort of? I am a Jötunn, but none of the others are. I’m sort of an odd case.” Hera admitted. “My apologies. That was terribly invasive of me. Incidentally, why aren’t you wearing clothes?”

“There’s no need.” Mystique allowed with a slight smile, choosing to sit nearer to her. “I can not affect ice, no, but I am told that when I shift it looks like frost is quickly covering me. I do have much better reflexes than most. As for clothes, my skin tends to shred them, the lines being as they are. Unless I am shifted into someone else, this is easier.”

“Would you like to be able to? Wear clothes, I mean?” Hera inquired. “Tony could probably design something durable that will shift with you, but only if you want.”

Mystique tilted her head and regarded her.

“I didn’t mean anything by it!” Hera insisted, waving her hands in front of herself frantically. “I was just trying to be nice, I swear! I’m going to shut up now.”

…

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The comment had seemed an odd one. The young girl had gotten into an in depth conversation with Mystique, something the woman seemed rather bemused by. Her brother had soon joined the conversation, adding a query or two in the interest of his sister’s health and happiness. Magneto would normally think the man as being opportunistic to weaponize mutants, being that he was interested in Mystique the way Hera was, and his given profession. Yet Magneto could see no falsehood about him. How novel to see a mundane truly wishing for nothing more than intellectual conversation with someone he knew was a mutant!

“My mind is not a place one should tread lightly, Xavier.” Hera warned, looking off into the distance. Ah, Charles was meddling again. That would explain it.

“He isn’t going to stop, I’m afraid.” Magneto informed her genially. “It’s his ability, and although Charles has expressed that we must learn to control the powers we have in order to blend in, he has a deep seated need to…meddle. As his ability is not so obvious, he sees little reason not to do as he sees fit with it.”

“You mean he wants to know how I’m blocking him so he can figure out how to work around it.” Hera snorted. Magneto could only grin in amusement and nod. “Figures. The Headmaster at my school is like that too.”

“I love my friend dearly, but I created this helmet for a reason.” Magneto commented. “Do you also have the ability your sister has, Dr. Stark?”

“You know…You’re the first person I’ve ever actually heard call him that.” Hera mused, catching Tony’s attention. “What? You have all these Ph.D's, and yet everyone calls you Mr. Stark, like they’re trying to demean your accomplishments or turn you into Howard.”

“She gets rather defensive of me.” Tony grinned in explanation to her comment. “It’s nice, having family, a sibling.”

“Anyway, Tony’s a genius. So even if Xavier can get into his mind, all he’ll see is white noise.” Hera shrugged, and then her eyes widened. “Oh dear.”

“Are you doing this?” Wolverine asked, worried and on edge. Charles’ expression was locked in one of intense concentration, but what was more worrisome was the blood that had begun to drip from his nose.

“My dear, if you’ve hurt him-” Magneto warned.

“I’m not doing this. He is. I warned him. There are places within my own mind I don’t go, and your friend just managed to trap himself in one of the worst pockets of it.” Hera snapped, glaring at him.

It didn’t quite reach her eyes, likely because she understood that Magneto still viewed Charles as his friend despite their differences.

“Can you get him out?” Wolverine asked, looking to Hera. “I know we haven’t really talked about your abilities, or what you are, but…Can you get him out?”

“I…” She looked from Wolverine to Tony, who gave her a bracing grip on her shoulder as if to steady her, before looking to Charles. “I can try.”

…

“Tony?” Hera looked to him now with silent inquiry.

“I’ll call Snape if it looks like you need help.” Tony replied, and she relaxed. At least if she made a mess of things, Snape would be able to pull them out…hopefully. “You can do this, Hera.”

She nodded in thanks, and stood before the professor. His eyes were glassy, wide with fear now, yet unseeing. She had no doubt that he’d managed to stumble into one of the worst parts of her mind, and she wasn’t sure she could pull him out. There was a reason she didn’t go poking around in there, especially not with things trying to settle. Taking his chin into the crook of her finger, she tilted his head enough that she had direct line of sight, and prayed that this would work.

“I want you all to know that I’ve never done this before, and I don’t know what I’m doing, or if this will work at all. I’m not even sure the state his mind will be in if I can get him out. So, here goes.” She informed them all, before locking eyes with the professor. “Legilimens.”

…

He’d thought that with the distraction of the others, she wouldn’t notice him trying to look into her mind. It was something he did with all possible students, to assess how best to help them, but even Charles had to admit he might have bitten off more than he could chew here. What he found reminded him strongly of what he’d discovered within Gene’s mind, only far more dangerous. The screams…Oh dear God, the screams…cries for help to anyone who could hear, and he couldn’t help but follow after the sound. Only…when he finds the man screaming, he is absorbed into the scene, and it is he who cries out for someone to help him.

“You really are seven different kinds of arse, you know.”

The torture abruptly stops, and in place of the man who’d been torturing him was the girl. She is not happy to see him, but other than the one comment, she does not speak to him. Instead, she chooses to take apart the clasps he’d become bound by, helping him up when she’d undone them all. She even gives him a moment to get his bearings, a chance to look around at the scene he’d landed himself in. He wonders who that man had been, wonders if she will tell him; wonders if he even has the right to ask after he’d so thoroughly disregarded her warnings and violated her mind.

“That man…he…Who was he?…Did he…Did he do this to you?” He manages.

“He is both the tortured and the torturer, Xavier.” Hera explained coolly. “He is who he is and will be, who I once was, and that is more than you will ever deserve to know.”

“I did not mean-”

“Yes, you did!” She shouted, and her words echo like thunder in space they are in. After a calming breath, she continues. “You shoved your way into where you were not wanted, because you have mistakenly interpreted your ability to mean that you must know everything, that you are entitled to that knowledge. You violate the minds around you like a rapist, caring not for their privacy or wishes as you pilfer through their most private and sacred of places, justifying it all ‘for the Greater Good’.”

Charles winced, having heard that comparison from Eric often enough. “My apologies. If it matters at all, I only wanted to assure myself that you are indeed well and cared for here, that your abilities were not a danger to yourself or others. My school offers such training to those in need of it.”

“Please. Your habitual need to know everything rivals that of my own Headmaster.” Hera snorted derisively. “Just take your lumps, and admit you were wrong.”

“I was.” Charles acquiesced, looking around again. “Are you sure…”

“I am not in danger from my own mind, Xavier.” She sighed. “I simply don’t go to these places, because it will pull such thoughts to the surface, and I can’t risk those thoughts being exposed to people who can read such things whenever they want. It’s dangerous for others to know some of what I know. You’re the first person that’s ever slipped under the natural defenses my mind set up.”

Charles blinked owlishly at the thought.

“What? Did you think you were one of only a few?” Hera snorted, arching an eyebrow at him. “Not only are there others who have the natural ability to read minds like you do, my people have the capability to learn it as a skill. You’re not unique in that regard. Now, do us both a favor and GET! OUT!”

`

He came back to himself, staring into the vibrant green eyes of the girl whose mind he’d entered.

“You plan on being that stupid again?” She asked, no sympathy.

“I believe that was a lesson learned.” Charles nodded to her in understanding.

“Good.” She concurred. “I wouldn’t recommend it. I won’t save you should you try that again. Now, dinner?”

“That would be wise, considering what you just did could have depleted your magical core.” Came a voice that had her wincing. “You will need the nourishment.”

“You were in there for over an hour.” Stark shrugged, unrepentant when Hera looked at him indignantly. “I panicked.”

…

After that, things went a bit more smoothly. With Snape there to explain the society she was a part of, Hera found it easier to talk about being a witch. She spoke of the history, why they’d hidden, and how things had been shaped since. Snape explained that what Hera could do was not the norm, that she was far more gifted than the average witch or wizard, while Hera argued that they could be if they stopped getting all hung up about boundaries and what they thought wasn’t possible. Hera was unique in her Jötunn nature among her people, but it was this ability that could help them stop isolating as they have been.

“I am rather curious how it is that you are one of the beings of frost.” Magneto admitted, and Hera being who she was could not pass up the opportunity to rag on him.

“Well, when two people lust each other very much, they give each other a special hug.” She says, completely deadpan. Both Wolverine and Tony start coughing, as they’d each been taking a drink from their glasses at the time.

Thankfully, nothing else disastrous beyond Xavier’s blunder happened, and dinner progressed positively. Both factions understood why she would need them, and both were willing to sit down with her to help improve relations between mutants and the mundanes. If mutants could establish a relationship with the magicals, it could open up a lot of possibilities for everyone. Snape left momentarily, only to come back near the very end of the evening with two books. He handed one to Magneto and Xavier each.

“Perhaps, if you can learn to keep your sticky mind out of other people’s thoughts, your friend might be more inclined to tell you things.” He said to Xavier. Giving the next book to Magneto, he added. “This is for when he inevitably fails at that, so you have a backup plan that doesn’t involve the worst case of helmet hair this world has ever known. Might not scream super-villain to all and sundry then too.”

The looks on their faces had certainly proved entertaining.

“So, a witch huh?” Wolverine asked, as he sat by the kitchen island. He’d come without the professor this time. Xavier was apparently really taken with trying to learn the exercises in that book, and was a bit busy.

“Yup.” Hera nodded enthusiastically, unfazed by his gruff nature. “Pointy hats, cauldrons, magic wands, dragons, the whole nine. I would say they don’t sacrifice babies, but some nutter trying to kill me when I was barely over a year old is how I got the scar on my forehead.”

“And the memory thing you did?” He asked, a bit more on edge than he’d been before. “You called me Howlett. I’ve dealt with William Stryker. I wasn’t in the files I found. I didn’t start really remembering things till you said that name, and it’s only been flashes since then.”

“You don’t remember me, and that’s fine. I’m not that person anymore either, not really.” She smiled ruefully. “I doubt even Fury will remember me when we meet again.”

“How is that possible? You…Whoever you were…How are you…you now?” Wolverine asked, choosing to sit at the bar.

“Might get a bit dicey explaining that.” She hedged. “Best to leave it, I should think. Tempt the Fates one too many times, and they tend to do something about it. I might be willing to play a little fast and lose with the weave, but even I’m not that stupid. To put it simply, who I was died, and I was born as I am now.”

Hera plucked up a thing of Asgardian goat mead, and poured them both a drink. The man took a swig of what he had to assume was apple juice or something, to humour her, and coughed at the unexpected kick the mead had. She only smirked as she continued to sip on her drink. Even Aberforth had to dilute this stuff in order to sell it. None but her had been able to drink the stuff straight. She’d have to send some of this stuff to Hagrid.

“Holy shit, kid, you drink this?” The man wheezed. “Why?”

“It’s gonna make me taller one day.” Hera replied with aplomb, amused at his reaction. She sighed, getting back to the seriousness of the conversation. “The person I had been was…bored, and went wandering, found you and the Howling Commandos. It was easy to get swept up in the fight, to glory in battle once more, especially with shield-brethren so devoted to each other, who didn’t look at him with disgust whenever he performed some bit of magic. You adopted him as one of your own without a thought, and that kind of acceptance…He didn’t have that where he was from, but he couldn’t stay, couldn’t have told you all who he was…who he really was…not then…Not that he didn’t try, mind you…”

She did the only thing she could without saying a name the man wouldn't have known anyway, considering the group had given him a name of their own choosing, tracing the runes onto the countertop facing him, making them light up for a moment.

... 

“You crazy son of a bitch.” Logan cursed, as a hazy almost memory hits him. It’s a flash, gone in an instant, but it’s enough that he knows; even if he doesn’t understand. The shit they’d pulled… “They’d get a kick out of seeing you now, I’m sure. They’re all dead now though.”

“They’re actually not.” She reveals, shocking him into silence. “I did mention Fury, did I not? Steve Rogers and James Barnes are also still alive. One’s on ice somewhere in the Atlantic, I think, and the other is a brainwashed assassin under Hydra’s thumb, though he too gets frozen from time to time. Not sure I’d call either of those states living, but they are alive, and they’re more like you now than you think. They’ll live as long as you will, maybe, given what was done to them. I'm not sure how Fury's flown under the radar all these years.”

“So if I went looking for them…” He trailed off. She shook her head in the negative.

“Rogers is encased in ice in the middle of the ocean, remember?” She reminded him. “Barnes is under lock and key. Unless something changes, it’s going to take me some time before I can get close enough to free him. Fury would be the only one you could get to, but I’m not sure how much he remembers of himself. Wade’s alive too, by the way, but he’s not someone you just find. He tends to find you. It’s what he does.”

Logan stilled as the longest snake he’d ever seen slowly made its way over some kind of tree branch thing on the walls. He hadn’t thought what those might be for, but now he realized their purpose. Every instinct he had told him to kill it, that it was kill or be eaten, and he only just managed to control that part of himself. It wouldn’t do to attack someone in her home, not after the stunt the Professor pulled. Even so, his claws had broken skin; ironically being the thing that pulled him out of his internal struggle.

“Jör is just trying to get a rise out of you.” Hera stated, already dabbing at his knuckles with a wet washcloth. He hadn’t even realized she’d moved. “Don’t worry about him. That snake is a big baby.”

Said snake made a show of extending their fangs and dislocating their jaw to be as intimidating as possible.

“Big. Baby.”

Jör moved from the tree branches, shrinking down as he did so, just to wrap himself around the girl. Hera just chuckled at the snake’s antics, hissing back to it like they were…Fuck it, for all he knew, they were having a conversation. That was nothing compared to the absolutely huge wolf that came morphing in out of his peripheral, growling low as it stalked towards him. Hera’s chortling brought him out of his internal struggle there, placing her hand in the wolf’s mouth as she rested her forehead against its own, a soft smile on her face as she closed her eyes. An owl swooped in to land on a nearby perch, staring at him imperiously, and he had the distinct impression that he was being judged as less than the dirt under their talons.

“That’s it. If you break out into song, or they start cleaning your house, I’m leaving.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“That’s it. If you break out into song, or they start cleaning your house, I’m leaving.”

Chapter 54

There are times when he forgets how young she is, times when he forgets how vulnerable she truly is. Hera exuded a kind of confidence like a defense mechanism until people just forgot that she wasn’t, and it reminded him a lot of his own defense mechanisms. She’d had to learn that mask, because it had been expected of her for so long, she didn’t know how to turn it off. There were days when he got to see the vulnerable kid she still was, days when she doubted herself and him, days when she’s embarrassed by how much she needed to make sure that he was real. Tony had never really been much of a huger, but on days like those he made an exception.

She’d had to have learned it from the dreams she talked about, or seeing her friends interact with each other, because he highly doubted the Dursleys had ever given her that. Several of her friends that he’d spoken with at that school had quietly mentioned that she clung to them when something bad had happened to them, like she was afraid they would disappear. No wonder she’d been such a mess after the end of her fourth year at that school. Nearly everyone close to her had been threatened in some way or another. A part of him really wanted her to go to a school closer to home, but she’d miss her friends, and he knew how precious a gift true friends were.

That professor of hers had promised to look out for her, though he could not keep things from happening to her as Tony would have hoped he could; something about Potter Luck ^TM. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin came to visit her often, and rib Snape about being a worry wart. They had all lost their minds at the sight of Hera letting a basilisk climb all over her without a bit of fear. She was calling the World Eater Fen for short, and at some point they’d all watched her play tug of war with him with bemused expressions, while trying to rethink everything they thought they knew about life. Jör pretty much had free reign of the property, coming and going as he pleased, though he mostly hung out all over this branch network Hera was slowly creating throughout the house. If he kept the place free of rats and other vermin, all the better.

If Fen went out with them, it was with a collar attached to the rope that made up Gleipnir; the collar itself glamoured to make him look like a Caucasian Ovtcharka. It almost gave Tony a heart attack to see Hera put her hand in the wolf’s mouth the first time, something about the action had become a sign of trust to the wolf. She did this every time she placed the collar on him, and every time she took it off; sometimes it was just a way of greeting for them, or to sooth Fen's nerves. To keep the rope from being misused, she kept it in a place only she could access. If anything, they were fairly certain Jör could dissolve the thing with his venom, something that seemed to give the wolf no small amount of peace.

He couldn’t wait for Rhodey to meet them all, and wondered just how much they were going to be able to tell him. The man had been supportive of Tony when he’d first learned of Hera, but had had to go away on another tour before Tony could tell him anything, and he’d not had the chance to visit since. Hera had expressed an interest in getting to know the man, which was a plus, but he didn’t think she’d get the chance before she had to go back to school. Speaking of school, he’d asked her to take a placement test, in case he needed to fill in gaps in her education or help her get into an accelerated program. She’d arched her eyebrow at him, knowing the lie for what it was, but had taken it anyway; she didn’t need to know that Obadiah was kicking up a fuss about her not having what he considered to be proper records.

It didn’t surprise him how smart she was, genius levels, and he still felt like she was holding back her intelligence; but it had made Obadiah that much more sour towards her any time they happened to be in the same room. Tony was tempted to get Snape to look into his godfather’s mind just to see what the hell the man was thinking, but decided against it. Just having that thought reminded him that was a power that was abused far more often than not, and Hera had to deal with that enough as it was. She didn’t need the suspicion that would bring too. On that note, he was surprised a certain long bearded headmaster hadn’t tried sending visitors to make sure Hera would be going back to Hogwarts. With the way the Headmaster had spoken just in the short time he’d known him, Tony felt the man was way too invested in Hera’s life, far beyond that of a simple Headmaster; it was certainly something worth thinking about. Maybe he was still reeling from that punch to the face.

They were heading back to London now, though Snape had headed back some time before. There would be a few weeks before school started back up again, and while she had shopped in the local wizarding districts, he knew she would want to stop by Diagon Alley as well. He was really glad that they were flying in one of his private jets, because Hera was the very definition of a nervous flyer, and he wasn’t sure first class or coach would survive a nervous Hera on an airplane with public access. Jör had taken to his blanket impression again, calming her somewhat, and he was fairly certain that Hera’s hands were permanently lodged in Fen’s fur. The famed World Eater didn’t seem to mind, which really made Tony wonder how the wolf had ever been labeled as he had been.

“Thank God we’ve landed.” Hera sighed with relief when she felt the wheels touch down, her head thumping into the headrest.

“I still don’t understand how you can fly on a broom, a literal stick with twigs between your legs, and be completely fine; but put you in a nice safe luxury airplane, and you’re a nervous wreck.” Tony commented, with no small wonderment.

“Bloody death tube, you mean.” Hera snorted. “At least with a broom, I’m controlling that. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“I really wish you’d tell me what you mean by that.” Tony grumbled.

“Even if I did, which I have, it wouldn’t make sense till it’s happened, so I won’t.” Hera reminded him.

After the jet had fully stopped, and they were able to leave, Tony suddenly remembered he’d forgotten something very important. Dudley had wanted to meet her when they landed, and the boy had somehow managed to talk his parents into at least not making snide remarks under their breath while the two got reacquainted. Tony had thought that this was a rather nice good-will gesture on Dudley’s part, wanting to make amends, and had agreed to the idea. Unfortunately, he remembers this only after Hera has already started making her way down the steps. He tries to scramble out of the plane after her, and down the steps, but it’s already too late.

“Hera!” Dudley calls out, surprising her. Hera, of course, screams at being startled, and promptly disappears. “I don’t…I don’t understand…Where’d she go?”

“The fr-” Vernon began, but stopped when he saw Tony glare at him.

“I forgot to tell her you wanted to see her.” Tony admitted, abashedly, his face and tone softening when he turned his attention back to Dudley. “When she gets startled like that, especially in high stress situations like after flying in an airplane, she…instinctively teleports to somewhere small and hard to get to, in order to feel safe. We should find her passed out in the plane, hopefully, or somewhere close by. You can help me look.”

...

“Sorry about Dad.” Dudley apologized, keeping his voice low as they walked back up the steps and into the plane.

“Don’t apologize for your parents, Kid.” Tony insisted, dismissing it. “If I did that, I’d never stop apologizing. We can share awful Dad stories later, if you’d like.”

Dudley nodded before taking a look about the plane, trying to gather his thoughts.

“She used to do this when we were really little too, back when I…back when my friends and I would chase her around and beat her up. If we surprised her, she’d always end up in some out of the way place we couldn’t reach, and we could never explain how she got there.” Dudley admitted, not wanting to look at the man. It was bad enough admitting to the things he’d done when he was in a therapist’s office. “She ended up on the roof of the school once.”

“Sir, I believe I have located Little Miss.” A voice called over the speakers. “There was a low EMP burst located in the direction of the linen closet. I believe, given that her three animal companions are now guarding it, that Little Miss is inside. I remain unharmed.”

“Good. Run a diagnostic check, just to be sure.” Tony sighed with relief. “Come on, kid. You get to help me try and calm down a few magical animals in the hope we can get to Hera. Don’t worry. One of them should remember you.”

“That’s what worries me.” Dudley admitted sheepishly.

Hera sat on a couch in the living room of the Dursley household, shaking like a leaf, and trying not to hyperventilate. Tony had sworn up and down that he wasn’t sending her back to the Dursleys, that they were just visiting. He’d forgotten that Dudley had wanted to speak with her, but the Dursleys wouldn’t let him come alone, obviously fearing whatever she could do to him. Tony promised Hera that Dudley had gotten his parents to agree to keep their comments to themselves in regards to the things they’d called her, and that he wouldn’t allow them to do a single thing to her; they still glared at her from where she could see them in the kitchen, but that was more civil than she’d ever expected them to get. Dudley sat across from her, on the couch on the other side of the coffee table, fidgeting and looking uncomfortable in general.

She’s not really sure what he’s got to be so nervous about. She’s the one reliving Hera Hunting and Find the Freak, being hit with the frying pan, and eating what they give her in the cupboard under the stairs even though she knows there’s poison in it. Why did Tony think this was a good idea? Fen hasn’t left her side once, and he’s glaring at Dudley like he wants to eat him. Oh. That might be why Dudley is fidgeting; Still doesn’t answer why Tony thought this was a good idea.

She didn’t even have Jör with her, because he’d opted to stay at the new place Tony rented. It was either guard the new place, or eat the family. She wasn’t sure if Hedwig had followed or not. Tony was looking distinctly guilty, and obviously debating the merits of his idea. Dudley had yet to say anything, and Hera wasn’t sure how long she could do this.

“Hera, I’m sorry.” Hera wasn’t sure she’d heard it at all, as quietly as the words were spoken. “It’s not enough, I know, but…I want to say I didn’t know any better, and for a little while that was true, but then I did, and…it was just easier to blame you than it was to accept that my parents weren’t good people.”

What could she possibly say to that?

“I knew other families didn’t keep a kid in a cupboard under the stairs like mine did, and still I didn’t think anything about it. It was normal to have two bedrooms. It was acceptable to hurt you. I just didn’t understand why I’d been raised to think it was all okay until you left, until you started fighting back, doing anything and everything you could to go to that school.” Dudley continued, and Hera was transfixed. Though Tony had told her to expect an apology of some kind, she hadn’t. “I started paying attention to the talk at school, and I realized something. There wasn’t a single girl at school that didn’t wish magic was real, or that unicorns existed, and you actually got to have all that. It made me think. Mum was a little girl once. She must have wanted all the things a lot of girls tend to want, and when she found out it was all real and she couldn’t have it, that’s when it became bad. She began to hate her sister, and when you showed up, that got transferred to you.”

“What am I supposed to do with this, Dudley?” Hera asked, her voice betraying her nerves.

“Nothing. I just…I just wanted you to know.” Dudley admitted, fidgeting some more. “I’m trying to be better, and I wanted you to know that I know now I was wrong, that I accept what I did to you wasn't right. I’ve been talking to therapists, and it’s opened my eyes to a lot.”

“I don’t…” Hera trailed, trying to gather her wits about her, when something about his statement caught her attention. “Wait. You went to therapy? Like ‘lay on this leather couch, and tell me about your problems, while I draw squiggles in a notepad’ therapy?”

“They’re not all like that.” Dudley chuckled. “The guy I go to shoots me with a Nerf gun whenever I start talking down about myself.”

“Really? That works?” Hera asked in surprise, delighted. “Wonder if I should do that to Tony. Might be fun. He talks down about himself a lot too.”

“It makes me think about what I’m going to say before I say it, but sometimes he’ll get me with one of those darts, saying I looked like I was thinking bad things about myself.” Dudley nodded, still grinning just a touch. “To be fair, I usually am.”

“I won’t come back, if that’s what you’re trying for.” Hera warned, but Dudley just shook his head no. “What is it then? The wards?”

Dudley shook his head no again.

“You…really just wanted to get this off of your chest then?” Hera asked doubtfully. Dudley nodded. “Dudley, I…I don’t know what to do with that.”

You told me the best revenge was living well

Fen was looking up at her, his head in her lap.

“I did say that, but…” She admitted. Fen just continued looking at her knowingly. “I can’t just forgive him. What do you want me to do?”

Chance. Try

She glared at Dudley, as if the two had intentionally conspired against her. So she was surprised out of it by Fen gently gnawing on her wrist, not breaking the skin.

Chance. Try

“Fen apparently thinks I should give you a chance.” Hera grumbled petulantly. “Suppose I should. If I can forgive the man who got Mum killed, I guess I can try to get along with you.”

Fen worried on her wrist some more.

“I can’t promise more than that, Fen.” Hera warned, eyeballing the wolf now. “I’ll try and not hold everything against him, okay?”

Fen huffed, but let go of her wrist.

“His fur looks really soft. Does he like being petted?” Dudley asked. Before she can answer, Tony rushed into the room, having been in the kitchen with the Dursleys.

“Hera, Dudley, come this way. Quickly.” Tony insisted, urgently.

“What’s wrong?” Hera asked, confused. Tony didn’t usually sound so…worried.

“The fog is moving weird, and call me paranoid, but I think that means something.” Tony admitted. She could hear Vernon’s bolstering denial from there, but turned to look out the window, and swore under her breath. “I was right?! I knew it! What are we looking at?”

“Dementors.” She whispered.

“What are Dementors?” Dudley asked, even as Tony herded them into the kitchen with the help of Fen.

“They guard the Wizarding Prison of Azkaban.” Both Tony and Petunia replied at the same time, Petunia looking like she’d swallowed a lemon at the admission she knew something of the magical world.

“You can’t see them, but imagine a sort of floating skeletal figure in a black shroud, and that’s about accurate.” Hera nodded, looking out the kitchen windows. “They exude this sort of misery about them, a kind of cold that goes beyond bone deep. People start reliving their worst memories. These things feed on happy memories, and in the worst cases, your very soul. The Ministry uses them to guard the worst of the worst, but what I don’t understand is what they’re doing here now. Tony, call Snape.”

“Why is it every time we run into problems, you tell me to call Snape?” Tony asked, already trying to find his phone.

“You mean other than the fact that I’m his apprentice? Remus doesn’t know anything about muggle tech, and though Sirius claims to love all things muggle, neither does he. Arthur is…enthusiastic, but doesn’t understand how anything works either.” Hera reposed. “Snape is the only adult wizard I know with a working phone.”

“Here, you talk to him.” Tony insisted, dialing the number before handing her his mobile. “Last time I called, he said he was eyes deep in testing your latest potion, and made some very specific threats against my liver. I know it may not seem like it, what with all I put it through, but I like my liver. I’d like to keep it inside my body, if it’s all the same to you.”

Chapter Text

Last time...

“Here, you talk to him.” Tony insisted, dialing the number before handing her his mobile. “Last time I called, he said he was eyes deep in testing your latest potion, and made some very specific threats against my liver. I know it may not seem like it, what with all I put it through, but I like my liver. I’d like to keep it inside my body, if it’s all the same to you.”

Chapter 55

“I can’t believe you’re hiding behind a teenage girl to protect your liver.” He hears as soon as he answers the phone.

“Potter? Am I not allowed five minutes peace?” He demanded.

“Real mature, Professor. I’m sure the only thing I interrupted was your daydreaming about trying to poison Neville’s toad again.” Potter snorted. “We’re at Privet Drive. The place is surrounded by Dementors, and I don’t know how to cast the Patronus charm. I didn’t think I needed it, because the Dementors at the school liked me, but there are so many here, and I’m not sure I can get them all to listen to me.”

“How many?” Severus asked, not even bothering to berate her for going back to the Dursleys, or demand to know what she was thinking when she did that.

“Enough that there’s already a heavy mist in the air. The house is literally surrounded. I can not stress that enough. They aren’t going anywhere else either, or drifting off to feed on the neighbors. They’re just…floating there.” Potter admitted, sounding as if she were moving about. “I don’t understand. Why are they here? Why are there so many? The wards are holding, but only just, and they were never that strong to begin with. I-”

“Potter!” Severus shouted. It got her to shut up at least. The rambling was going to become problematic if she couldn’t rein it in. There’s a sound like a door closing, and Severus pinches the bridge of his nose again. “Don’t tell me you just walked outside.”

“Okay.”

Silence. Complete and utter silence. Unbelievable.

“Potter!”

“What? You told me not to tell you! I’m going to go see what they want. I have Fen with me. I’ll be fine!”

“The number of times you have proclaimed that when it is not true is appalling.” Severus drawled with a sigh. “When were you going to tell me you could speak to Dementors?”

“Uh…I thought you knew that already?” She offered. “Didn’t Remus talk about how I scolded that one on the train?”

“Yes, but I thought he was delusional until you punched a hippogriff in the face, and then I just figured you were insane.” Severus commented, coming to a decision.

There’s hissing sounds, and he’s already gathering things while he listens to what is hopefully not Potter’s death.

“Oh, it’s you! The one I grabbed on the train! We were just talking about you! How’s Azkaban?…Any particular reason you’re…I dunno…not there now?…This isn’t about the arm, is it? I did apologize for that…You can’t be serious. For what?…Un-be-lievable. Professor? The Dementor says some pencil pusher at the Ministry is trying to frame me because of the whole thing with What’s-his-name. Dolores Umbridge? Do you know who that is? Her name sounds familiar. She thinks I’ll align with Dumbledore, and wants to take me out preemptively or something.”

“She’s the Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic.” Severus deadpans.

“Can you get Amelia Bones?” Potter suddenly asks. “Also, anyone else who will come and help would be amazing.”

“Why Amelia Bones?” Severus asks.

“She dislikes the favoritism Dumbledore gets, treats everyone fairly during an investigation, and she’s the Head of the DMLE. Susan says she’s on the up and up.” Hera replied, sounding suspiciously winded. “If a Ministry pencil pusher is abusing the system, she’d want to be all over that, even if it’s a high ranking Ministry pencil pusher.”

“Why do you sound winded? What are you about to do?” He demanded, not sure why his stomach was tied in knots. Whatever this was, it was bad.

“We’re preparing for a siege, Professor. What did you think was happening?”

... 

“Hera…” Tony’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Hera, what can we do?”

“I…”

What could they do? Surrounded by Dementors, and she hadn’t learned the patronus charm. If that Dementor was right, the Undersecretary had sent them after her, either to get rid of her or get her to perform magic. If she did that in the street, it would be risking being seen doing magic by muggles who were not her family, even with all the mist in the air, and she wouldn’t put it past this pencil pusher to ignore the fact that she has an exemption two ways over, or the fact that their lives were being put at risk. If the woman was smart, she’d somehow avoid any of this getting tied back to her. What was worse was the fact that no one but Hera could see the creatures that surrounded the place, and if Vernon couldn’t see something…Hang on. Now, there’s a thought.

“I have an idea.” Hera eventually replied, her mind already going through the various scenarios where this would blow up. Still worth it? Nice. “Dudley, how many paintball guns do you still have?”

“Enough. Piers and the others left theirs, and never bothered to come back for them.” Dudley confirmed, after a hesitant grimace. “No ammo for them though.”

“That’s okay. I’ve got something.” Hera insisted, already digging through her expanded pockets. “I designed these after those things they use for banks when someone robs them. They should be the same size as a paint ball pellet. No amount of magic can remove the stains these things leave behind, and the more they try the more the stain spreads.”

“Why don’t they just use soap and water?” Petunia asked with a sniff, watching as Dudley rushed up the stairs to get the paint ball guns.

“It’s the simplest solution. Of course, they’re not going to think of it.” Hera remarked with a wry grin as she started parceling them out into batches for their use. “These won’t stain your fingers, so don’t worry about that, but I don’t have many of them, so try to make ‘em count, yeah? Patent Pending, and all that.”

“How are we supposed to hit something we can’t bloody see?” Vernon demanded, all but snatching his bundle from her.

“That part’s easy too.” Hera insisted, adopting what Tony refers to as his ‘business face’ because it was the only way she could think of to handle Vernon right now. “You try to hit me. You’re good at that, aren’t you? Well, more like above me, but still. I’ll be popping in and out all over, so you just have to aim for where I was.”

“So your plan is to make them visible?” Tony asked, even as he accepted both paintball gun from Dudley and new ammo parcel from her, looking like he really wanted to murder Vernon. “Why?”

“Right now, I’m the only one that can see them. So if they leave right now, or get what they came here for, there won’t be anyone else to confirm it.” Hera replied. “We make them visible, that goes away. They may go away at that point, as their staying risks exposing the wizarding world. I might get in trouble for that, but with the Head of our law enforcement coming to help, I think I’ll be okay.”

“Why can’t you just wait in here with us?” Tony objected, looking very much like he did not want to let her go out there. “You’ve sent for the others. They’ll get here soon.”

“The wards won’t hold that long, Tony.” Hera sighed, knowing he was stalling.

“What about just magicking them away or something?” Tony tried, not quite willing to give up just yet. “Or getting Dobby or Winky in here?”

Both house elves showed up as if summoned, and perhaps that was so. Hera hadn’t called them, but Tony’s wish for her safety might have called to their magic. However, they didn’t look like they were there to stop her; much to Tony’s chagrin, she was sure. Dobby snapped his fingers, and her clothes were replaced with armour the likes of which Loki had in Ásgarðr; in the sense that it was all greens and golds mixed into a lot of leather. She looked up from inspecting it to see that Dobby held out the horned helmet, and Winky held up the sword she’d won from the Goblin King, both were wearing matching sheepish grins.

“Dobby, where did you get that?” Hera asked, eyeing the helmet. Dobby just nervously laughed, and Hera realized she didn’t want to know. “Put it back. I don’t need it, not even sure it would fit right anyway. And Dobby?”

“Yes, Harry Potter Miss?” Dobby asked, still grinning sheepishly up at her.

“I appreciate this more than words can express.” She replied fondly. He popped out, and Hera turned her attention to Winky; who upon seeing this, raised the sword higher. “What are you two up to, Winky?”

“That would be telling.” Winky answered, her grin turning more sly than sheepish as Hera took the sword from her.

It hit her like a ton of bricks, the full power she had access to with that sword in hand, even as it shifted into the most wicked looking Scottish halberd she’d ever seen, and she dropped to a knee as the air was knocked out of her. It dawns on her that Winky hadn’t touched the hilt with the now orange stone Hera could have sworn had been a ruby before. Why hadn’t she noticed the stone wasn’t the same as before? Fucking hell, she wasn’t supposed to have access to something like this right now. Too soon. Too soon. What had they been thinking?