Glad to be on summer leave of her Fifth Year she smiled happily as drool seeped into her pillow.
"Good-bye, Harry!" she waved to Harry, Hermoine, Ron, Clara, Ela, Finch, and Daevid...
She was 16 with long, jet black hair, vivid blue eyes, 5'6", and had a brilliant smile and bubbling personality that no one seemed to get enough of, but a pessimistic, dry humour that no one seemed to get; not even Harry at times.
Something screeched in her ear.
"MOM!" Helena put the pillow over her head.
"What?" her mom asked worriedly.
"MAKE IT STOP! MAKE THE BANSHEE OF A CLOCK STOP!"
"Oh, Helena. Get up yourself! It's the first day of term. You should be used to this by now."
She shot up from bed like never before. "WHAT?"
"First day of term, hun," her mom said as she waved her hands frantically.
"UGH... Stop that... you know how much I hate mock-jazz hands..."
"Precisely. Now get your lazy bum up."
She got up and stretched to the sky before heading to the much dreaded freezing morning shower. All thanks to dad; he wasn't much of a handyman and had just gotten laid-off from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries which made matters worse. They were Purebloods, but didn't mix in with the snobby if-you're-not-pure-blood-you're-value-is-that-of-a-house-elf's-snot crowd. Helena was raised in Manhattan until the age of 11 when that magical owl-carried post came welcoming her to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Ms. Moonwitch,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Terms begins September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Her family was upper middle class and lived in Liverpool where the perfect weather was a humid 70-ish degrees Fahrenheit, lovely Mr. Sun never came out to play, and gray clouds were always looming in the sky.
"UHHHHH..."
"What are you complaining about now?!" Mom yelled from downstairs.
"I can't find my black fishnet striped shirt! Or my Doc Martens! Or my black peasant skirt!"
Helena whipped around her room.
Geez... Seems like a troll came in here and smashed everything...
"Well, maybe if you were a bit more tidy, dear... think about the possibilities..."
She made a face towards the doorway, but, alas, she got dressed and headed down to the island in the kitchen for breakfast. She sat down on the stool gloomily, fork and knife propped up in each hand.
"My, you're hungry."
"Give me all you got. This is the annual STUFF MY FACE BEFORE EACH TERM BREAKFAST. The last home meal I'll get before the end of Sixth Year."
She made her ever-famous googly eyes at her mom as she piled on her world-famous pancakes.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters
"Hurry, Mom! Push that cart a bit faster. Getting a little out-of-shape, are we?"
"You would be, too... if you... were pushing... a fully-grown giant's weight..." her mom said out of breath.
"Come on!" Helena yelled looking back at her mother.
"Why don't you push this, Phillip, dear?" her mom gritted through her teeth as she looked back at her husband.
"I'll take it from here, then." Helena said, annoyed.
They waved from behind.
"HAVE A GOOD TERM, DEAR!"
On the Hogwarts Express
Helena looked in each cabin until she saw Hermoine's no longer frizzy hair, but not before noticing that the cabin was almost full. Hermione turned around and hugged Helena in a death grip until she let go and frowned.
"Sorry, you got here a bit late and, well, uh..."
"It's fine, Herms," she puffed out her chest. "I'll have to be a brave little girl and find another seat. Au revoir," she said dramatically as she disappeared from the cabin door in search of an unoccupied seat.
Helena went down the hall until she heard someone shout a sneering comment.
"Finally came to your senses, eh, Moony? Came to sit on Slytherin Royalty's lap? Where you truly belong? Not with beloved Harry Scarhead and Weasel-be, not to mention that filthy little Mudblood..."
Please don't let it be who I think it is...
She turned around and there sat Draco Malfoy in all his came into the cabin and sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. He raised his eyebrows in shock.
"You may be the Slytherin Prince, but I am definitely not your princess. How could I possibly be? The sight of your greasy hair and high-pitched voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck curl."
She smiled sweetly and as soon as she noted a hint of severe annoyance and insult in him she left and headed further down the hall. Draco was wrapped in her smile until his ego pushed aside her rapture and took over.
Who the hell does she think she is?
She gave Draco one last look before she disappeared.
"I guess that's better than nothing! You're a Slytherin might as well grope on Slytherin Royalty to up your reputation!" Draco yelled after her.
She stopped dead in her tracks turned around, glared daggers at him, then gave him the finger. At this point everyone was peeking out their doors.
"I know, Moonwitch. I'm irresistible. I can feel the sexual tension between us. I've always known you've had a thing for me."
She charged and clothes-lined him, full force.
"You unbelievable son of a b*tch!" she yelled as she mangled his face.