In the perfectly normal neighbourhood of Little Whinging, Surrey, there was a perfectly normal street. Privet Drive was home to many well-to-do, upstanding families. Redbrick houses and polished cars lined the pavement with unnerving similarity. The sun rose on manicured front lawns and set just the same.

There were no residents of Privet Drive prouder of this semblance of normalcy than the Dursley family. Vernon and Petunia Dursley had worked very hard to maintain this image. Vernon worked at a large company, Grunnings, that sold drills and other equipment. Petunia was a housewife. She was on the PTA committee, took care of their son – Dudley – was a proud member of the neighbourhood book club, and made sure that dinner was on the table the moment her rather large husband stepped through the door. The only blight to the Dursley's happiness was their niece, Helen Potter.

Helen was the daughter of Petunia's sister; who had unfortunately died when the girl was very young. The Dursleys had discovered Helen left on their doorstep when she was barely fifteen months old. Begrudgingly, they had taken the girl in. This was perhaps the Dursley's worst fear. Petunia had not spoken to her sister for several years prior to her death, and thus was very angry and frightened. For Helen was the farthest thing from what the Dursley's considered to be normal, as possible. Helen Potter was a witch.

As her mother and father before her, magic flowed strongly in her veins. In the hidden magical world of Great Britain, Potter was a revered name and Helen chief among them. For well over two decades a war had ravaged the magical world in secret. Mysterious disappearances, unexplainable deaths, property destruction, and strange weather patterns being the only clue non-magical people had. Helen's parents and grandparents had fought viciously during the war. Only at the very end were her parents – Lily and James – forced to go into hiding to protect their daughter. However, they were betrayed by someone they had considered a friend. Their enemy, known as Voldemort, hunted them down personally and slaughtered them as they tried to protect their only child. However, when Voldemort turned his wand upon the defenceless child, something nobody anticipated possible happened. The child survived.

Where grown witches and wizards capable of bending the very laws of nature to their whim had faced him and fell, Helen Potter lived. Not only did she live, but somehow in the backlash of the killing curse, Voldemort's body was destroyed. With the sacrifice of the Potter family, Voldemort's forces were scattered and easily subdued, and the Blood War was over. Helen Potter became hailed as an icon of the Light and known as The-Girl-Who-Lived across continents.

Not that Helen knew any of this of course. Under the Dursley's strict rules and fear, the young girl grew up not knowing that magic even existed. The very word was banned from No. 4 Privet Drive. She grew up not knowing that she was a witch, or of the war that had taken her family from her so cruelly. Every instance of accidental magic she displayed was punished; every chance of bettering herself pushed down. Unstable, they told the neighbours. A troublemaker. She'll be a drunk low-life just like her parents, Petunia would sigh fretfully to the other society wives as they cooed over how brave she was for taking that odd Potter girl in.

Helen was not as stupid as the Dursleys liked to tell everyone. She was simply quiet and quite frankly, insatiably curious. Rule number one of living with the Dursley's however was 'don't ask questions'. So, she took her questions somewhere she could find trustworthy information: the public library. Stacks of books just waiting for her eager young mind to devour. Unfortunately, she could not have a library card; the Dursleys would never allow her to bring books back. Helen feared that even if she did, the books would not survive her cousin Dudley's ham-like hands. Besides, the sheer amount of books Helen wanted to keep would not fit in the cupboard-under-the-stairs; her bed barely fit as it was.

School meant nothing to Helen. The teachers had never listened to her and Dudley and his gang made sure that her days were a living nightmare second only to living with the Dursleys'. Her only sanctuary was the library. She seriously doubted that Dudley even knew the place existed. While dumbing down her scores at school was an easy way to keep the Dursleys off her back, Helen kept copious notes on her own studies at the library. The nice librarian, though distant, did allow her to keep her notebooks in a plastic box behind the reception desk.

Research was a key aspect of Helen's time at the library. While the green-eyed girl's reputation was troublesome, she was more intelligent than even her fans in the magical world had thought possible. Helen knew she was different. Odd things happened around her too often to be dismissed easily. Especially with her Aunt and Uncle's irrational fear of any such incident. Once, when she was very little, Aunt Petunia had tried to force her to wear a horrible brown and orange jumper that Dudley had grown out of. As she tried to force it over her niece's head, the jumper caught fire. Helen spent the entire weekend in her cupboard as punishment. Another time, Dudley and his gang were chasing her through the playground when suddenly, she was on the roof. The school had to call the fire department to help get her down and the headteacher had had strict words with Aunt Petunia. That incident got her a week in the cupboard and limited food privileges.

Armed with the certainty of her uniqueness, Helen did what she did best. She read. Every book she could get her hands on – from biology textbooks to compendiums on religious meditation. Was her condition genetic? A blend of chromosomes never seen before? A mutation? Did her parents have the same ability before they died? But perhaps most important of all the questions Helen sought answers for, was this – could she control it?

From the age of six to ten, she tried to direct this strange ability of hers and found with surprise and no small amount of delight, that it came quite easily. Some things easier than others, but with a bit of concentration, Helen could do pretty much anything. Stars were easy; they seemed to blend into their constellations, showing her their secrets. Plants were a bit trickier, but with some persuasion she could convince the Dursley's shrubbery to grow quite nicely. Not that that stopped her from trying. Her notebooks ranged from biology to astronomy to local legends. There was nothing that Helen did not like to read.

It was in the summer of the year that Helen would turn eleven that everything changed. A month or so prior, Mrs Figg – the batty neighbour that usually babysat Helen – had broken her leg and the Dursley's had been forced to take Helen with them to the zoo. There, she had discovered that she could talk to snakes. No other animals she found to her great disappointment, but still very exciting. As Mrs Figg's leg was still broken, Aunt Petunia was once again forced to bring Helen along with her and Dudley into London for the day. It was just after lunch, as Aunt Petunia forged ahead with Dudley, that something caught Helen's interest. There was a pub standing where before there had been nothing.

Helen stopped in the middle of the street. She watched, head tilted and curious, as people seemed to swerve around the pub as if it did not exist. Somewhere ahead of her, her aunt and cousin had stopped to peer into a shop window. A grimy sign hung above the pub: The Leaky Cauldron. Cautiously, Helen stepped down off the curb. A bubble of clear street stood in front of the pub. Nobody seemed to notice that they all walked the exact same path around it. She took a deep breath as she teetered on the edge of this patch of uncluttered pavement. Helen threw herself over the invisible line. Nothing happened. Letting go of her breath, she turned around slowly. Nobody seemed to have noticed anything. She waved one tiny hand. Nothing. It was as if they could not see her – just like they could not see the pub. Helen's heart thudded in her chest. With a quick glace back, she practically leapt at the entrance to the pub.

Inside, the pub was dark and the low light that managed to creep through dusty windows was backlit by the dull glow of orange lamps. Wooden tables with rough-hewn chairs were scattered around with clusters of candles congregating in the middle. The odd person was strewn around the larger-than-average interior. Intently, Helen drank in everything around her. Why – that man in the corner was floating his book! Another patron was pouring themselves a pot of tea without even touching the teapot. An epiphany overcame the young girl that blew everything she knew out of the water – these people were just like her. Slinking her way to a pillar, Helen moulded herself to it as she continued to observe. One woman appeared to be wearing what looked like a pointed hat. Someone else was showing off a suspended solar system that moved on its own. Several of them even seemed to be wearing dresses. Helen squinted. No, not dresses – robes. All in different colours and cuts, though very distinctly robes. Tapping a finger against the pillar, the young Potter's mind raced. A group of people that could do extraordinary things, robes – and the woman with the hat. Helen swivelled around to look again. The woman's hat was quite distinct with its pointed top and wide brim; a witch's hat. Helen had seen several at Halloween though she had never been allowed to participate.

Magic. What she could do was magic. The revelation hit Helen like a freight train. Excitement curled in her gut and everything in her life suddenly clicked into place. The Dursley's fear suddenly took on a whole new outlook. Had her parents had magic too? Surely there was more than simply this magical pub. With little thought, Helen strode back towards her family.

Tugging insistently on Aunt Petunia's peacoat, she waited patiently as her Aunt turned sharply towards her and pursed her lips.

"What do you want?" Aunt Petunia snapped waspishly. Dudley ignored them as he sucked greedily on his lollipop.

"I just wanted to say that I'm not going back with you Aunt Petunia." Helen said to her Aunt's great befuddlement. Blinking, Petunia Dursley looked around her to see if she could spot what had brought around this great change in her niece. As a non-magical, Petunia could not see the pub though she recognised the street. Years of watching her own sister disappear somewhere on this street into a world she could not follow had left Petunia with a bitter and hateful heart. Looking down at her too-small niece with Lily's eyes, Petunia could not muster up the decency to care what happened to her sister's daughter.

"Go then." Petunia said coldly before gathering her son and quickly disappearing around the corner.

Used to such treatment, Helen though nothing of it as she skipped happily back inside. The top of her head was barely level with the bar countertop. Stained and gouged, the dark wood emitted a heady scent of something bittersweet. After several minutes of fruitlessly trying to catch the barkeeps attention, Helen pulled herself up onto one of the bar stools with great effort. Flushed from the effort, she turned her attention back to the man behind the bar. He had a humpback and his apron was grimy yet his smile wide and his eyes crinkled kindly when they saw her.

"Well 'ello there. What can I do for ya today?" the barkeep asked. Subconsciously, Helen took a deep whiff. Spiced alcohol and tarnish made her blink rapidly.

"Magic." She said decisively. "Magic is real."

The barkeep paused in his duties and took in the young girl before him. The round wire-frames on her nose were barely held together by tape; her shirt hem was frayed and hung loose enough to show her collarbone practically jutting out of paper-thin brown skin. It was only after seeing these disconcerting things that the barkeeps eyes jumped to her forehead. Eyes widening, he drank in the sight of a lightning-white scar that crackled across the left side of her forehead and split her eyebrow in half. Partially hidden by her thick raven fringe, it was no wonder he did not see it at first. Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong, the barkeep thought.

Squaring his shoulders, the barkeep smiled encouragingly and leaned forwards.

"Yes, yes, it is little miss." He swallowed back the horrible knowledge that this girl, this one in particular, should have known about magic. The smile that bloomed across her face almost made it worth it, but Tom the barkeep knew he had to help correct what had happened.

"There's more though."

"More?" Helen breathed as she slipped from the barstool and followed the barkeeps beckoning wave. He led her to a small alcove where there was nothing more than a few weeds and a couple of bins. With a wink, the barkeep produced a thin stick from his sleeve. Curious, Helen watched as he tapped the stick – wand, stave, thing – against a brick in the bare wall in front of them. It began to wiggle until the wall began to peel back to reveal an archway. Helen's mouth fell open. An entire street was hidden inside London. All sorts of people in robes and pointy hats with their own sticks breezed from shop to shop as if their contents were perfectly normal. Clapping a hand on her shoulder, Tom smiled gummily.

"Welcome ta Diagon Alley. Now, I'd suggest ya go to Gringotts first. Tis a bank – tha' big white building there. They'll tell ya everything ya need ta know. Jus' give 'em yer name." He pointed at perhaps the largest building on the street. It was not exactly hard to miss. At least two stories higher than any other building in the Alley, Gringotts seemed to be made entirely of a shiny white stone that was almost blinding in the afternoon sun.

"Thank you, sir." Helen said. With a quick pat on the shoulder, she was off.

Gringotts was much larger up close. Marbled pillars ensconced the steps that led into the bank. Guarded on each side by strange creatures in red livery, the glass-fronted doors were very intimidating. Hesitantly, Helen pushed through them only to be met with a second set of doors. Here, a plaque shone brightly in the lamplight:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take, but do not earn

Must pay most dearly in their turn

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

These people were clearly not to be crossed. They must take their security very seriously, Helen mused, which gave her some comfort. If the bank was as secure as the poem suggested, then surely, they could help her.

Stepping onto the main floor of the bank, Helen watched in wonder. Booths lined what appeared to be a stately marble chamber, and more of the same creatures outside the bank sat at these desks. Lines of people lingered in front of several of these counters, waiting their turn to be seen. Taking a deep breath, Helen let her green gaze wander over the chamber. Carefully, she picked her way to the teller with the shortest line.

Idly, Helen joined the queue; shuffling forwards every few minutes as people conducted their business and left. She could not help it, but her eyes were constantly drawn to the strange creatures that ran the bank. Most of the booths were occupied but had no customers. One of these people even seemed to be examining a ruby the size of her fist! So occupied with her inspection of the bank floor, Helen did not realise that the person in front of her had left. A polite cough broke her reverie. Flushed, she hurried forwards. Behind the desk, the creature simply raised an eyebrow before reaching for a quill and parchment.

"Name." he said brusquely, the deep tenor of his voice carrying in the marble chamber. The desk was very high. Craning her neck to see over the countertop, Helen tilted on her tiptoes.

"Er, Helen Potter." She said. The creature froze. Slowly, and very deliberately, he placed his quill back in its inkpot. The staffed booths either side of them stopped to stare at the young girl as well. Frowning, the creature swept black eyes over the young girl more critically before lingering on her scar. Nervously, Helen swallowed.

"I was, I was told that you could help me." She said almost apologetically. The creature's eyes narrowed before inclining his head slightly.

"Of course, Heir Potter. The goblins of Gringotts would be happy to assist." The goblin – for now she knew what these people were – jumped down from his booth and walked around to meet her. Owlishly, Helen blinked as the goblin bowed his head once more before sweeping a hand to the side.

"If you would follow me." It was not really a request, but Helen nodded anyway. Turning swiftly, her guide marched through a double door with the young girl dogging his heels. Though small, for none of the goblins she had seen seemed to be any more than a head taller than herself, he walked quickly through a spacious hallway lined with doors. She was not sure how many they passed or indeed even how many corners they turned – left or right, some hallways even seemed to slope downwards before they eventually stopped outside a door. This door was no different to any of the other doors. Lacquered black with a round brass doorknob and a shiny, if weathered looking plaque nailed to its front. Helen had only enough time to read the words Potter Account Manager before her guide knocked once and opened the door.

"Heir Potter here to see you, sir." He bowed his head once more before spinning sharply back the way he came. Dazed, Helen stepped into the office. It was not particularly small nor large. A rather comfortably sized desk with two chairs before it occupied the far-right wall. Neatly stacked shelves and filing cabinets full of records and important documents lined the rest. There was even a tastefully modern painting hanging opposite the door.

Carefully, Helen closed the door behind her and took a seat. The goblin opposite her was far older than her guide. His thick eyebrows were frosted white and his leathery face wrinkled. Silently, he observed the girl with what looked like a thick monocle over a beady eye.

"I have been waiting a long time for you Heir Potter." The goblin said evenly. Helen fidgeted in her seat. Pulling nervously on the hem of her shirt, she tried to gather her thoughts.

"I'm sorry," she started, licking her lips. Bravely, she raised her chin so that she could meet him eye-to-eye. "I didn't even know magic was real until today."

The goblins' brow furrowed. Leaning back in his seat, he laced his fingers together and hummed discontentedly.

"Oh?" he said questioningly. His voice was gravelly and somehow even deeper than the previous goblin. Helen nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes. The pub owner said that if I came here, the bank could help me."

"Well that is certainly true Heir Potter." Her account manager placed a thick folder on the desk and cleared his throat. With his long, sharp fingers, he pushed several pieces of thick yellow parchment towards her. Shuffling in her seat, Helen took the first page. Handwritten, the page was cramped with hundreds of lines of tiny, looped writing.

"We shall start with the basics. My name is Clarok and I have been the Potter Account Manager for over sixty years." Clarok watched the young girl with sharp eyes. The girl was too small; her face gaunt and clothes clearly meant for someone twice her size. It was her face though that caught Clarok's attention. Evidently, the young Potter heir was very intelligent.

"Here, the Potter's are what is considered a Founding Family in the magical world." He said. Helen looked up at him. Blinking away the after-image of black ink, she studied the goblin in front of her.

"Founding Family?" she asked curiously. Clarok smirked and pushed another document towards her eager hands. For several seconds, there was silence as she tried to read.

"This isn't English." Helen said eventually, her green eyes darting across the page hungrily.

"No, it is in Latin. That there document is an original copy of the Statute of Secrecy, that was declared by the then King Athelstan in the year 931 C.E., that declares the beginning of the separation between the magical and non-magical worlds of what later became known as Great Britain. It was co-signed by the most powerful and influential magical families of the time – of which the Potters' were one."

Helen was not sure what the Statute of Secrecy was, but it sounded important. Not only that, but her family had a hand in making it real. Pride fluttered in her chest and she clutched the statute close to her chest.

"So, this makes them a Founding Family?" she asked. Clarok tapped a sharp nail against the polished oak desktop.

"This makes you the sole heir of the most high-ranked Family in magical Britain." He was becoming very amused at the young girl's look of shock. Though, it did rankle his professional pride that he had to explain this at all. The Potter heir should have grown up knowing all of this and more.

"Once you come of age, you will have complete access to all monetary vaults, parliamentary seats and able to claim all titles." Clarok barked as he started organising the folder before. "Until that time, you will receive yearly bank statements concerning the main Potter Vaults, access to a Trust Vault set up by your parents including monthly statements, and unfettered access to all Potter lands and properties."

It was a lot of information to take in. Helen had not even turned eleven yet.

"I haven't had any monthly statements." It was the only thing she could think of to say. Clarok's eyes narrowed. He had suspected as such.

"Then I must offer you Gringotts deepest apologies Heir Potter. We will endeavour to ensure that you receive such information from this point on." Clarok inclined his head.

Overwhelmed, she turned once more to the Statute of Secrecy. The parchment was ragged along its edge and stiff, yet it was in incredible condition for such an old article. It could only have been done with magic, she concluded. Concentrating, Helen narrowed her eyes at the document. Slowly, a thin layer of yellow dust shimmered into existence. It hovered around the entire article; protecting it from anything that may harm the ancient paper. Clarok watched her work with sharp eyes. He was impressed with what he saw. Not only had the young heir managed to feel the magic surrounding the document, but also forced it into visible sight – if only for a short while. Clearing his throat, the Potter Account Manager caught her attention once more.

"There are many expectations and social obligations that affect you – not only as an heir, but as a Potter. However, I am not the person to teach you such things." Clarok glowered and steepled his fingers. "I would suggest that you hire a house-elf or a tutor. Perhaps get in contact with your family solicitor."

Helen frowned. Reluctantly, she handed back the copy of the Statute of Secrecy and watched as her account manager carefully placed it back in the folder.

"House-elves?" she asked unsurely. If goblins had expressive facial expressions discernible by humans, then Helen would have recognised the patented look of anger at her upbringing that would follow her for the rest of her life. Briskly, Clarok found a spare piece of parchment and quickly scribbled something along the top. Ripping it off, he handed it to the confused young girl.

"Yes, normally the Potter family would have several house-elves to serve them. However, I am not sure of the condition of your ancestral home. I would suggest finding a place to stay then contacting your solicitor." Clarok tapped a fingernail on the desk pointedly. Hastily, Helen scanned the paper. Written in sharp lettering were the words, Renshaw and Sons. Nodding her head, she thanked her account manager. Sniffing, Clarok closed the thick file in front of him and reached for a small brass bell on the wall. Fascinated, Helen watched as it rang three times before falling silent with a tinkling shudder.

"Now, here are the basics on your family vaults. I would suggest another meeting in a months time Heir Potter." Clarok said briskly as there was a knock at the door. As he barked for them to come in, he stood up and Helen hastened to comply. Pushing the folder across the desk, Clarok nodded once at the younger goblin who waited in the doorway.

"Griphook here will take you to your Trust Vault and help guide you on the appropriate amount needed for accommodations."

With little fanfare, Helen was ushered impatiently out of the office and back down the corridor. She had barely had enough time to grab the folder, she thought bemusedly. Consumed by what had just transpired, she did not notice as the clean hallways melted into rough-hewn caverns. Their footsteps echoed in the massive space. Eventually they came across what Helen could only consider a rollercoaster. A mining cart that sat upon steel tracks and disappeared into the muggy darkness. Securing a torch to the front of the cart, Griphook stepped aside slightly.

"Please enter the vehicle." He said crisply. Once seated, Griphook spared her only one glance before pushing a lever. Now, Helen had never been on a rollercoaster before, but if they were anything like the Gringotts carts then she loved them. The cart seemed to have only one speed; whether that was around corners or at a straight drop did not seem to matter. The cart rushed by so fast her glasses were little protection against the wind. As they descended further into the bowels of the bank, Helen could not stop herself from leaning over the edge to see how far below the floor was. Only when a flash of fire raced past her eyes did she sit back up again.

Eventually, they cart began to slow before screeching to a stop. On wobbly legs, Helen stepped out of the cart with a wide grin. Griphook seemed amused. With little fanfare, he marched up to a vault door and produced a key. Briskly he twisted the key and opened the door. Helen's jaw dropped. Piles of gold, silver, and bronze stood in stacks as high as the ceiling. Stepping inside, she craned her head to see how far up they went. Behind her, Griphook cleared his throat. With a smart snap of his wrist, he held out the small bronze key.

"This is charmed to be linked directly to your Trust Vault Heir Potter." He said. "You simply need to give this key to a seller and they will make an impression of it. The bank will be notified, and the money transferred."

Curious, Helen turned the key over. It was small, with a geometric head. Warm to the touch, the bronze was obviously crafted with care. The system seemed to work much like a credit card, for which she was thankful. She was not sure she could carry all the money she would need for the summer. Pocketing the key, she turned back to her vault. Upon closer inspection, se recognised none of the coins.

"What are these?" she asked, turning over a gold coin the size of a hubcap. What could only be considered a grimace crossed the goblin's face.

"That is a galleon. It is the highest form of magical currency. The silver ones are sickles and the bronze knuts. There are seventeen sickles to a galleon, and twenty-nine knuts to a sickle." He said simply. Frowning slightly, Helen wondered at the such odd numbers before dismissing it. Repeating the values in her head, she quickly stuffed her pockets full of coins. Pleased that for once her too-large clothes were coming in handy, she tucked the folder back under her arm before exiting the vault.

The trip back up to the surface seemed much shorter. Griphook marched her to the main floor. There, he bowed before exiting quickly. Helen took no notice as she happily headed for the exit. While she thought nothing of it, the bank had become extremely crowded. People hovered together excitedly as they pushed forwards towards the back of the bank. This made it very easy for Helen to slip around them and out into the Alley. She bumbled along quite happily, never even thinking that the steady stream of people entering the bank but not leaving could be because of her.

Helene Lysandra Potter

Helen. L. Potter

Heir potter

Mansion, call house-elves to fix it so she can live (peak district, valley)

Stay at inn before moving in

Meets hermione

Don't take teachers at face value – only teach what they are supposed to, but that is surely not our limit

Hermione comes to visit when she moves in

They disocver (with goblin prompting) that the potters were a founding family but kept out of the sacred twenty-eight in spite (new)

Family is Greek descended

She is an oracle

Uses muggle-repelling charm on underground car as a meeting place for witches and wizards needing a place to escape

Hermione Jean Granger

Hermione. J. Granger

Ginny Weasley

Ginevra Molly Weasley

Neville Longbottom

Neville Francis Longbottom

Ron Weasley

Ronald Bilius Weasley

Fred Weasley

Fredrick Gideon Weasley

George Weasley

George Fabian Weasley

Blaise Zabini

Blaise Emanuele Zabini

Susan Bones

Susan Delphine Bones

Padma Patil

Padma Aarunya Patil

Parvati Patil

Parvati Lalita Patil