Chapter 03: Classmates and Settling In

Hel made her trip to the library before the day was even over. She checked out a copy of the school's rulebook and spent the evening by the crackling fire in the common room, carefully leafing through the book, tracking down the relevant passages and taking notes, then showed up at breakfast the next morning with her pockets full of thoughts and plans in the form of countless messy, inky scribbles.

There were three things a Hogwarts club needed to be declared official, as it turned out:

Club members, space, and permission.

Club members would be an easy enough goal to meet; Blaise had already expressed an interest when she'd brought the subject up during dinner, Ernst generally went along with her schemes even without her needing to ask, and Malfoy had promised to convince two of his friends to join, bringing their numbers up to six.

She wasn't altogether convinced that Crabbe and Goyle would be valuable additions to their numbers, but she could ask around some and find more members. It would be nice to have a few more girls to balance out the boys in her club, and more was better anyway, in this case.

In the meantime, she could work on figuring out a place to gather at, as well as gaining permission from the headmistress to hold their meetings. The latter shouldn't be a problem so long as Hel's club met all of the requirements, but the former would probably take a little bit of asking around. Any big, open space would suffice, in theory – but Malfoy had mentioned past duelling clubs, so Hel was determined to find out where they had used to hold their meetings in her own time. If the equipment was so old that it wasn't useful for anything, then she could still nose around and integrate their better ideas into her own club, or use the old clubroom.

She wasn't there yet though. Before her duelling club could become a reality, one last, additional condition would have to be met: Hel would have to convince a teacher to oversee all of her club's meetings.

She understood why this was a requirement. Battle magic could be dangerous and so it was reasonable to require an adult to supervise… the trouble here was that convincing someone to actually do it would probably be a pain and a half. It didn't exactly take a genius to figure out that Hogwarts was understaffed. Judging by who all showed up at breakfast, Hel would put good money on there only being one teacher per subject, and each teacher taught all seven years and four houses. It didn't leave much time for free time, and Hel needed to persuade someone to sacrifice a good chunk of it, at least once or twice a week, every week.

She would have to show them it would be worth their time.

Hel was working on it. She had stayed up late last night trying to come up with solutions… in the end, she had just resolved to recruit more students, as well as consult Xanxus, Mila, and Squalo to try and come up with some semblance of a plan for her club's meetings and suggested topics to cover, which would hopefully show her teachers that Hel was taking this seriously. Having older students in her club would likely also help. It would suggest that Hel and her classmates weren't just looking to horse around, but genuinely interested in duelling and learning how to.

Plus, talking to a couple of the older students might give her perspective, ideas, and probably some pointers as well.

A task for later, Hel decided.

She was pouring herself a goblet of pumpkin juice and idly tuning out Malfoy's morning round of bragging when Hedwig flew into the Great Hall and landed gracefully, not in front of Hel the way she usually did, but at the teachers' table, facing McGonagall. Next to Hel, a conversation slowed down, then halted for a moment when McGonagall's chair dragged across the floor with a rough scrape two minutes later, hurried footsteps carrying her out of the room in short order.

Not quite a run, Hel supposed – but too fast to be a walk either.

Entering the Great Hall with a backwards glance at where their headmistress's retreating back had just rounded a corner, Blaise slid down into the empty spot next to Hel's, and wondered-

"What was that about?"

Hel didn't know… not exactly and not for sure, so she shrugged.

(But really. There were very few reasons why Hedwig could have returned from Italy with a letter for Professor McGonagall now of all times… two days after Hel had written home, expressing her frustration and dissatisfaction over how unfair, petty, and unprofessional her potions teacher was being).

…

Before breakfast was over, an older Ravenclaw student approached Hel with a note. It let her know that detention would be served with Professor Flitwick today, instead of Professor Snape.

It went well. Flitwick had her write lines, but didn't bother assigning her any new ones once she was finished. Instead he broke out the tea set and biscuits, coaxing her into a lively conversation about traditional Red Kingdom cuisine and baked confectionery, allowing the last twenty minutes of Hel's Sunday detention to pass quite pleasantly.

From there, it was back to the Great Hall, where she caught sight of Blaise sitting by a group of their classmates and joined them.

To the surprise of absolutely nobody who knew him, less than a week after arriving at Hogwarts, Blaise was already making friends left and right. Her friend was just like that and Hel had long since grown used to it. Although there had been a time when she was little, when she'd had trouble with it. She'd caused a scene at a birthday party, once, getting all possessive and… Cloudy.

Very embarrassing.

Yes – Blaise might be her best friend, but that didn't mean that he was hers. The books on Flame theory Hel was currently reading all agreed that it was in a Cloud's nature to be territorial, but that was an explanation and you shouldn't let explanations turn into excuses. Besides, Hel was a Princess and Princesses should always be in control of themselves, so getting upset because her only friend had made friends other than her had been very immature of her. No matter how old she'd been at the time.

Besides, Blaise making friends was a good thing. It meant that she could just hang out around him and make acquaintances without having to do any of the hard work herself. Win-win.

"There you are." Blaise said, grinning as he turned around to look at her, "We were just talking about you."

Hel blinked.

"About me?"

"Yes, Blaise was telling us you that want to bring back the duelling club."

Us – in this case, that meant Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode, two of the girls Hel shared a dorm with… but the two of them weren't the only ones watching her. There were several more Slytherins paying attention, both surreptitiously and not: on their one side, there sat a group of classmates. Nott, Hel noticed, and Malfoy… as well as Parkinson and her posse, a little ways off.

On their other side, a group of older students sat. Fifth- and sixth-years, maybe.

Oh.

Oh, Blaise was the best and Hel could tackle hug him right now-

"That's the plan." She said instead, confidently. "I've just started working on it, but I hope to have the club up and running soon. Would you be interested in joining?"

"Maybe." Bulstrode admitted, "What will we do at the meetings? It's not like we know any spells yet."

"We can learn some. There's plenty of material to get us started, even at the library."

There was plenty more material Hel could get her hands on outside the library, she didn't say. She could always mention that later. In any case, it would be nice to get some exercise – a whole week of doing nothing already had her feeling a little antsy, and Hel was just about itching for a spar.

"A spar…? You can duel, Princess?"

That question had come from her left, where the older students sat. Judging by the interested expression, it was the one wearing a prefect badge who'd spoken. She'd heard him be addressed as Eddie in the common room before, but didn't know his last name…

"I can fight." Hel corrected the prefect, turning to face him, "I do intend to learn how to duel, however."

"That doesn't surprise me. I've heard everyone is taught how to duel at Durmstrang."

They were. It was a fact Durmstrang's alumni took a lot of pride in, although Hel doubted they actually threw the first-years right into the fray.

Unless they joined a relevant club, Mila had once told Hel that first-years weren't usually taught much more than how to hold their wand and which grip was considered the correct one. Second-years then started with disarming, simple spells and their counter-curses…

The way that statement had been said though-

"They aren't taught how to at Hogwarts?"

"Some of the basics are covered in fourth and fifth year, but proper duelling is only taught at NEWT level. Apparently, only aurors and the like need to know how to."

Hel frowned, "All the more reason to bring back the duelling club, then. I'm sure we can devise a meetings plan that allows students of all skill levels to practice without interfering with each other."

Having more experienced duellists around would be good for the newcomers, but she couldn't expect the older students to want to babysit them, either – they were a lot more likely to form their own clique and leave the rest of them to their own devices, but that was fine, too.

Hel had often practiced by watching other people fight. At the Varia, it had always been encouraged.

"I'm sure a few of us would be interested in joining a duelling club, should you manage to set one up, so let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

Hel glanced away from the prefect and around at this point, to assess his friends and classmates' reactions. There was a variety of expressions there… amusement, intrigue, approval – and yes… calculation, as well.

Ah. This wasn't the same as talking to her year-mates, then. Different rules applied here-

Come to think of it, the fifth- and sixth-years were probably old enough to even know a thing or two about politics, and it hadn't escaped Hel's notice how her conversation partner had never once called her 'Potter' either.

There was nothing wrong with calling her that, in principle. 'Potter' was the name Hel was enrolled under, so she didn't mind people using it – but where most of her year-mates seemed to get it wrong, was in assuming that Hel was a Potter first, and a Princess second.

That simply wasn't the case. Hel would always be a Princess first.

Burke had acknowledged that, so this was a game she knew how to play.

She had been trained to, after all.

"Of course. There's always lots to learn from older students." Hel said, then paused, "I am Hel. May I know your name?"

"Edward Burke, Your Highness."

"It's nice to meet you, Burke. I was wondering – do you know if any of the teachers here at Hogwarts have an interest in duelling?"

Twenty minutes later, Hel was determined to do something nice for Blaise. She wasn't sure what yet, but Burke and his friends had been able to answer most of her questions, even offering up a few suggestions of their own. More importantly, he'd got people talking.

When she'd produced a sheet of paper from one of her pockets, there had only been three names written on it: Ernst's, Blaise's, and her own. Malfoy added his own, as well as Crabbe's and Goyle's before lunch was even over. Nott wrote his name down right after, followed by Bulstrode and Greengrass.

Nine club members. And those were only the first-years, so there were still more to come… things were looking good. Hopefully they'd keep going that way.

"Oh. By the way," Daphne Greengrass said sometime later, as they all stood up, "Quidditch trials are next weekend, so most of us first-years are going down to the pitch at one… we'll get a chance to watch people practice. Or fall off their brooms and laugh at them, if it comes to that. Would you care to join us?"

"Sure," Hel agreed, "That sounds like fun."

…

On Monday during breakfast, Hel received another note.

There had been a change of plans: her detentions today, on Wednesday and on Thursday would be served with Professor Sinistra, while on Tuesday and Friday Professor Sprout would take over. In the weekend, she'd be helping the gamekeeper, Hagrid.

After that, there would be no more detentions.

Considering how Papa had come around to have words with Professor McGonagall on Sunday, his subsequent letter to her indicating that Professor Snape wouldn't be sticking around for much longer, this new development didn't come as a surprise to Hel. She rolled the note up, tucked it into her school bag, and returned her attention to the conversation at hand.

Ever since waking up that morning, there had been one thing and one thing only most of her classmates were interested in talking about – come Thursday, they would be having their first flying lesson. The note announcing this news had been pinned to the notice board inside their common room when Hel had walked up to it that morning, to add her own advertisement for the duelling club to it, so she'd been one of the first ones to find out about it.

No one had shut up about the upcoming flying lesson since.

Most kids who had grown up in magical households had been on a broom before, Hel assumed. She knew that Blaise certainly had: he enjoyed zooming around the grounds behind his mother's estate during those times of the year when it was too hot to do much else. It didn't sound like most of their year-mates had been much different. If Malfoy was to be believed (doubtful), he'd spent his entire childhood narrowly avoiding airplanes and helicopters.

The week went on like that, and they were leaving the castle on Thursday afternoon, when Davis asked her if she'd ever been on a broom before.

"A couple of times," Hel admitted.

She didn't have a racing broom of her own, had never cared enough to ask for one, in fact, but Claudio and Isa had introduced her to a couple of games which were commonly played on them. They could only play quidditch when there were more players than just the three of them, but Hel had enjoyed racing her Sicilian cousins and playing tag with them the few times they'd done it.

At this, Blaise snorted, "Remember that time you and your cousins got in trouble for smashing some priceless vase the Crown Prince of Prussia had received as a wedding gift?"

Hel frowned.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Great-Grandaunt Jophiel had me writing apology letters for weeks."

She didn't think it was even half as funny as Blaise seemed to think it was. Narrowing her eyes, Hel suddenly changed the subject.

"That's enough about me, I think. Blaise is pretty good at quidditch, too, you know." Blaise threw her a confused look, "His mother used to be married to a quidditch player." Confusion quickly turned into sweet, sweet panicked realisation. Hel's grin widened. "What was his name again? Rémy? Renoir?"

"Hel, shut-"

"Oh no, I know – it was Renou!"

The reaction was instantaneous, and it was gorgeous.

"Renou? Baptiste Renou?"

"That Renou?"

"Renou wasn't a quidditch player," Someone exclaimed, "He was a quidditch star – a quidditch legend!"

Catching her eye over the growing excitement of the crowd, Blaise said, "I hate you."

Hel cackled.

"No, you don't."

They reached the grounds a couple of minutes before the Gryffindors did. Once Madam Hooch was also there, the lesson began. It all went well until about twenty minutes in… when they were instructed to mount their brooms and kick off the ground. One of the Gryffindors promptly lost control of his broom. He shot up into the air before he was supposed to, panicked, and – Hel winced – fell off.

He hit the ground with a thud which had students from both houses gasping, one of them whispering: is he dead? while Madam Hooch ran over. Longbottom wasn't dead, but after a quick check-up, Madam Hooch pronounced his wrist broken.

"None of you move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'." Then she added, to Longbottom, "Come on, dear."

The pair shuffled off. They were just out of earshot when Malfoy laughed.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Crabbe and Goyle laughed while next to her, Parkinson's shrilly giggle assaulted Hel's ears. Hel frowned, but before she could say anything, she caught sight of something glittering in the sun. She knelt down to pick it up. It was… a ball?

"Oh, look! It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

And – ah – now everyone was watching her.

Ron Weasley took a step forward. Held out his hand.

"That's Neville's Remembrall. Give it here, Potter."

Hel raised an eyebrow, meeting the Gryffindor's distrustful glare. She was tempted not to give it to him just for being rude. Who did he think he was, ordering her around? To her right, Malfoy made some noise about leaving the Remembrall somewhere for Longbottom to find – up a tree, for example – but Hel didn't dignify that stupid suggestion with a response, either. Instead, she weighed Longobottom's Remembrall thoughtfully, tossed it up once and caught it. Then she said, "Weasley, catch", and threw it.

Weasley didn't catch. The Remembrall hit him squarely in the forehead and he overbalanced, letting out a very funny noise of shock and surprise as he fell over. When he stood back up again, clutching Longbottom's Remembrall in a clenched fist, his ears were red with embarrassment. Hel laughed.

"Make sure Longbottom gets that back, won't you?"

Weasley glared, but Hel didn't apologise.

…

For the Slytherin first-years, Friday afternoons ended with History of Magic, followed by short break and then another hour of History of Magic. It was a cruel and unusual form of torture, surely devised by the most sadistic of administrative workers.

History of Magic was quickly becoming Hel's least favourite subject by a large margin. She hated it even more than she did Potions, where she had Snape's presence to endure. For all his faults, Snape at least knew what he was talking about. He was a Potions Master, and it showed.

History of Magic, on the other hand, was taught by a ghost. A Professor who had died some sixty years ago and had never been replaced by anybody else, even though the material he taught was terribly out of date. He lugged around an original copy of a book everyone else had the twenty-fourth edition of and droned on horribly.

History had always been one of Hel's favourite subjects back home where Nante taught it, and this was an affront. An insult. An absolute blasphemy. Halfway through the first half of the lesson, Hel had given up on paying attention and had put quill to paper to start writing a letter to her father's cousin, asking him to send her some books from the family's collection so she could actually learn something while stuck in this class.

There wasn't much point in sticking around, so after the bell had rung to signify their break, Hel had got up and approached Professor Binns with complaints about an upset stomach. He'd allowed her to visit the hospital wing, although Blaise's hopeful offer to accompany her had summarily been turned down.

This was how she found herself making her way up the stairs to the seventh floor on Friday afternoon, where she knew the hospital wing to be. She wasn't stupid enough not to. Binns might mention her leaving his class in the teachers' room later, or somebody else might, in which case it would be best to have at least been seen at the hospital wing. Papa had taught her the importance of crafting believable lies.

She had just reached the fifth floor, however, when Hel heard struggling and a cry for help.

"Hello?" A vaguely familiar voice called out, "Is someone there? Anyone? Please help!"

A little more noise, like someone was shuffling around somewhere close by, and Hel curiously approached. She stuck her head out into the corridor the noise was coming from, and – oh, down there – there was someone lying on the floor.

"Longbottom…?" She asked.

And yes – it was him. Red faced and teary-eyed, legs stuck together, unnaturally stiff. Hel withdrew a knife from her robes and quickly threw a look around, but it was just the two of them in the corridor. Catching sight of the green-and-silver on her uniform, Longbottom looked up at her.

"Oh. Hello, Potter."

"Hi." Hel paused, "What happened to you?"

"Malfoy." Longbottom grimaced, "It's a leg-locker curse… I think. Could you – could you maybe get a teacher? Please? I'd really like to get back to my common room."

"I'll do you one better." Hel grinned. She knelt down and muttered the counter-curse. Longbottom's legs relaxed at once and he was able to spread them again.

"Oh, thank Merlin – and thank you. Thank you so much. I thought I was going to be stuck here until dinner."

Longbottom accepted her offered hand, so Hel helped him onto his feet. He was a little bit unsteady, which wasn't very surprising. If Malfoy had done this, then Longbottom had to have been lying here for at least an hour, because Hel had definitely seen Malfoy at History of Magic. Heard him, too. He'd been snickering, bragging about something at Crabbe and Goyle.

Hel had started tuning Malfoy out when he wasn't talking to her, so she hadn't realised that this was probably what he'd been bragging about.

"You fell over, right? Did you hit your head?"

"Um, yeah."

"I was on my way to the hospital wing before I found you. You should come with me, in case you have a concussion or something. Oh, and I guess the school healer can probably write you a note – so you don't get in trouble for skipping classes."

Longbottom shook his head, "Gryffindor first-years have Friday afternoons off, so I'm not missing any classes."

Ugh. So lucky. Slytherin first-years had Wednesdays afternoons off.

"That's not that bad." Longbottom pointed out, "I bet it makes the week feel shorter."

"It does. But we've got History of Magic on Friday afternoons, Longbottom. Double History of Magic. Tell me that's not torture."

He winced, "That's pretty bad. And you can call me Neville… if you want."

Hel considered him. He went a little pink under her gaze, but Hel didn't comment on that and simply nodded, "Alright then." She said as they reached the fourth floor, "Then you may call me Hel, Neville. Did you get your Remembrall back?"

"Oh! Yes, I did. Thank you, um – Hel."

Hel nodded, injecting a dose of approval into the action, "That's good. Malfoy wanted to stick it in a tree or something stupid like that."

Neville grimaced.

"I wish he'd stop picking on me."

"He's only doing it because you're letting yourself be an easy target. You should stand up for yourself."

"I'd like to, but I'm no good at it. I don't even know any spells."

"Well that's an easy fix. You could join my duelling club." Hel said this, then paused, "Or you could sign up for it anyway – I'm still working on getting it set up at the moment. Anyway, we'll hold meetings twice a week and I can teach you a few tricks myself."

She didn't know that much, but even a few spells would probably be plenty enough to convince Malfoy that continuing to bully Neville wasn't worth the pain or effort. Still… if they were both going to end up joining her club, Hel really should have a word with Malfoy. It wouldn't do for him to go around bothering people she'd nominally be putting under her protection.

They reached the hospital wing before Hel had finished her thought, so she shelved it. She took the lead, explaining to the matron how she had found Neville, and made sure to mention her own bellyache as well. Neville corroborated her story, so then she got to lie down on one of the beds while Madam Pomfrey took a look at Neville.

"There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you." Madam Pomfrey said later, after she had run a quick diagnostics spell on Hel, "Perhaps you ate too much. I told the elves the gravy was too heavy…"

"Maybe." Hel agreed. "I did eat a lot…."

"Very well, I'll write you a note. You too, Longbottom. Who did you have class with this period?"

"Nobody, Madam Pomfrey. I have the afternoon off."

"Professor Binns, Madam Pomfrey."

"Ah." Madam Pomfrey said, eyes suddenly lingering on Hel, though she nodded along, "Don't you think it's curious, Miss Potter? How it is always during Professor Binns' class that we get the bellyaches…?"

Hel didn't respond to that. Instead, she did her best to look perfectly innocent while Madam Pomfrey wrote a note for her. She held it out for Hel, and said:

"If I see you here again next week-"

"You won't." Hel promised. Madam Pomfrey scrutinised her for a moment longer, then let have her note.

"Very well. Longbottom, you won't need a note. You're free to go."

…

It wasn't long before Hel found herself having her next conversation with a Gryffindor.

She had just left the Great Hall on Saturday morning, when Hermione Granger caught up with her, a book in the crook of her arm, and mulish but determined look on her face.

"Can I speak with you, Potter?"

Hel glanced her way, then shrugged.

"I'm on my way to the owlery. You can walk with me, if you'd like."

She was already doing that, anyway, and Hel wasn't opposed to hearing what Granger had to say. She was a little bit curious even, since she had caught the girl throwing looks at her all throughout breakfast this morning.

What Granger began with though, was:

"Neville's going to join your duelling club."

Well, Hel knew that. He'd agreed to do so before they'd parted ways yesterday.

"Yes. So?"

"So," Granger frowned, eyebrows knitting together, "All of the other Gryffindors think you're going to play a trick on him."

Ah.

Right – Slytherin had a bit of a reputation. Still, wasn't Granger supposed to be new to magic? It was obvious enough that she hadn't come from any magical household, so she should be just as new as Hel was to all of these prejudices surrounding Hogwarts and its four Houses.

"I don't really care what your house-mates think. Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"No," Granger huffed, "I want to join the duelling club – then I can see for myself how you treat Neville. And if you're nice to him, that's good, but if you bully him then I'm going straight to Percy Weasley. That's the Gryffindor Prefect."

Hah.

She was pretty funny actually – even if it was completely unintentional.

Still, Hel thought, considering Granger's bold declaration. No blind distrust, like a lot of Gryffindors had showed her up until this point… but no blind trust, either. That was fair enough, honestly.

"Start out with that, next time." Was what Hel said, grinning, "Maybe then you won't blurt out your entire plan in the process. Or is it a Gryffindor thing to be that upfront with your intentions?"

"I'm not – I just-"

Granger protested the rest of the way to the owlery, and if Hel took impish delight in ruffling her feathers, then that was her own business. Once there, Hel sent her letter. They then walked back to the castle, parting ways just outside the entrance hall so Hel could pick up her daily delivery of newspapers before going back inside.

At the start of the school year, Hel had instructed her suppliers to deliver the bundle just outside the castle instead of at breakfast, paying a little bit extra for added Imprevius Charms, just in case it rained. It made for less of a ruckus at breakfast, which made the detour worth it in Hel's opinion.

Hel glanced at the various headlines while she made her way back to the Slytherin common room, reading a few of the articles in more detail once she was actually there – there was some interesting news in the papers today:

In Cairo, a thirteen-year-old boy had apparently earned his Potions Mastery, while worldwide, there were one-hundred-and-three more registered animagi today than there had been last year. Only two of those animagi turned out to be European, but that didn't surprise Hel all that much: animagi transformations were advanced magic, but more to the point, it was a bureaucratic, paperwork-filled nightmare just to get the required permissions to even start practicing becoming an animagus in most of Magical Europe…

Hel knew that in the Red Kingdom exceptions could be made for someone who was studying the subject in service of the crown – animagi made excellent spies, after all, and you didn't want those on any sort of publicly viewable record or register. It was still a hassle, though.

Speaking of the Red Kingdom, talks of abandoning their traditions of male-preference primogeniture in favour of absolute primogeniture where the monarchy was concerned were also still ongoing, according to the local news. Hel read a few more paragraphs on the subject, scanning the article for any mention of her father, then folded the last of her newspapers back up when she noticed that it was almost time for detention.

Whatever Hagrid would have her doing today, it was likely to be outside – it was cold, but it was at least dry, so Hel supposed she could be grateful for small mercies.

…

Hel's duelling club was well on its way to being established. Granger had added her name to the list last weekend, and taking a look at who else had signed up since, Hel could count seventeen students on her list. There would have been eighteen… but Finch-Fletchley, whom Hel had approached personally to invite, had apologetically turned down her offer on the grounds that he'd already joined two clubs and was much too busy to balance a third one on top of that, which was disappointing, but understandable.

Even so, seventeen club members and a box of traditional Red Kingdom confectionery had been plenty enough to convince Professor Flitwick to oversee her club's meetings twice a week, so that was two conditions met.

There was an antechamber next to the Great Hall which Hel was hoping to use as her club room as well, but Professor Flitwick had indicated that Hel would have to ask for permission from Professor McGonagall to make that work, so they'd have to tackle the last two conditions at the same time.

Hel said they because, after to speaking to Edward Burke again, she had also cornered Terrence Higgs – a sixth-year Slytherin – to ask him to be her representative in all matters official. A sixth year would be taken more seriously than a first-year, after all, and Higgs had agreed to be her right hand easily enough since Hel had already done all of the heavy lifting. All he had to do now, was go to McGonagall and talk it out.

As agreed upon, Hel met Higgs in the dungeons, under the portrait of the silent and severe-looking Jaculus, to give him the list.

"There's seventeen on that list. Most are Slytherins, but two are Gryffindors, and my cousin Ernst is a Ravenclaw."

Higgs's eyebrows rose at that, "Two Gryffindors, huh?"

"Yes," Hel rolled her eyes, "Nobody else signed up – the other houses all seem to think we'll use their students as target practice. As if Professor Flitwick would let that happen."

Higgs laughed.

Thirty minutes later, he was back.

"Congratulations," He said, grinning broadly, "We got permission from the headmistress to hold our meetings; the duelling club is back."

…

The first meeting of Hel's new duelling club took place during the last week of September. Getting the message out was a little annoying, as she didn't know everyone who had signed up personally, and those she did, she wasn't always able to easily find. Luckily, having a majority of Slytherin club members meant that putting up a notice in the Slytherin common room was enough to get word out around there, but it wouldn't suffice if more people from other houses joined at a later time. Hel had to contact those people personally.

Still, she saw Ernst at dinner on Saturday, and was able to get the message to both Neville and Granger on Monday during charms, even if it was on short notice.

Tuesday dawned early. Unfortunately, it did not dawn bright. The first-year Slytherins had Herbology with the Ravenclaws first thing on Tuesday morning, so that meant trudging through the pouring rain and getting muddy on the way to the greenhouses. Then repeating the process all over again to get to Transfiguration.

Professor Osborne took pity on them, drying the Slytherins' robes for them and teaching them all a neat little charm to get themselves warmed up again before getting started on their lesson. Having learned how to turn their matches into needles and back again by now, Professor Osborne had them reading up on animal to object transformations, which they would start studying in more depth over the coming months. Turning mice into matchboxes, and things like that, though they wouldn't be learning how to do it the other way around until their third and fourth year. Making a living thing out of something that wasn't, was notoriously harder than the inverse.

The day continued, with a break for lunch before they had to start making their way upstairs for their double Defence Against the Dark Arts class, where Professor McGonagall lectured them on vampires.

Then, it was finally time. Hel and her classmates were the first ones to get to the club room, followed by Ernst, some of the older Slytherins, the Gryffindors, and finally, Professor Flitwick.

Professor Flitwick started the meeting by giving a little speech on the rules and such, but Hel didn't get the chance to hear it. Malfoy tugged at her sleeve and she had to follow him outside so they could have a word in private.

"Well, what do you want?" Hel asked impatiently. She had to strain her ears to understand what he was saying, but she could still hear Professor Flitwick's voice from where she was standing… which probably meant that everyone else would be able to hear them, too, if they raised their voices to anything more than a whisper.

Was it intentional, on Malfoy's part? Or just thoughtlessness…?

Either way, he opened up with:

"What's Granger doing here?"

"What do you think she's doing here? She's here for the club meeting."

"But she's – Potter, you can't be serious."

Hel rolled her eyes, "Look. Her name's been on the list since a day after Longbottom's, so I suggest you suck it up and stop embarrassing yourself."

"I'm not embarrassing myself – you are! I agreed to tolerate Longbottom, but- you never said anything about Granger! Haven't you noticed?!" He gestured wildly, "She's not exactly subtle about it – her parents are muggles!"

If Malfoy had thought that this would shock Hel, or maybe even make her change her opinion about having Hermione Granger in her club, then he was sorely mistaken. All it did was irritate her, because this entire conversation was a waste of time.

"So?" Hel responded, "I notice it hasn't stopped her from doing better than you at literally every class."

Not that it mattered – people didn't have to be accomplished to earn the right to exist – but watching Malfoy's face turn red at the insult was gratifying nonetheless. Hel didn't really feel like getting into a prolonged verbal match with Malfoy here, so she shouldered on, not giving him the opportunity to speak.

"I don't know where I lost you, Malfoy, but I'll say it to you properly so it can sink in: we're a duelling club, not the British Pureblood Society. If you don't like that, you can leave – nobody's keeping you hostage."

Muted shock was gradually morphing into anger. Hel could see all of the signs, and for a moment, wondered if he'd actually be enough of a fool to try and attack her bodily. Then there was a presence behind her, and the sound of a throat being cleared.

"Is everything alright out here?"

Professor Flitwick.

No way Malfoy would try anything now. Not in front of a teacher.

Sure enough, his face twisted into a furious scowl, but he didn't do anything more than lock eyes with her. Hel kept his gaze, unwilling to be the first one to look away, and eventually it was Malfoy who broke it.

"My father will hear about this!" He shouted, "You're making a mistake!"

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed off.

Which… okay, then.

Weird threat to throw at someone whose father was higher-ranked, richer, and infinitely more dangerous than his, but whatever.

"I don't think Malfoy will be coming back next week, Professor, so we're back down a member."

Or three. Wherever Malfoy went, Crabbe and Goyle usually followed.

"That's alright, Miss Potter." Professor Flitwick said, giving her a pat on the arm, "You did well to stand up for your classmate. Five points to Slytherin."

Practice had already begun by the time Hel made it back inside the club room. As she had predicted, the older students seemed to be sticking together for the most part, congregated on one side of the room while the first-years and one second-year stayed separate from them. Professor Flitwick hurried over to a group of first-years – Neville, Granger, Bulstrode, and Goyle – while Blaise, partnered up with Greengrass and Ernst, caught her eye and threw her an inquisitive look. Hel shrugged.

She could tell him about what had happened later. Nott had been standing aside by himself, apparently waiting for her to come back, because he pushed himself off the wall and approached her now that he could.

"Can you teach me that spell you used on Smith a couple of weeks ago?" He asked, "I'll teach you a hex in exchange."

That seemed like a fair deal, so Hel agreed.

"It's not really an offensive spell, so I wouldn't suggest using it in combat unless you plan to follow it up with something nastier." Hel explained as she took her wand out, "It's a variation on the stinging jinx, and it only really buys you a few seconds. Enough to give you the time to start running or to disorient your opponent, but not much more."

She glanced up, but far from being disappointed by this revelation, Nott was only watching her solemnly. Hel had never taken the time to really notice him before – he was quiet and blended into the background rather easily – but she did so now. He was standing stiff, but his eyes were determined.

He muttered to himself:

"Sometimes that's all you need."

Hel nodded. She had been taught this particular jinx as a precaution – to use against potential kidnappers and the like. She hadn't needed to yet; the one time someone had tried Papa had been there and he'd had ripped them to shreds, but that didn't mean she'd never have to.

"Hold out your hand." Hel instructed. Nott threw her a look, but did so after a moment, "The trick is to aim at the eyes, otherwise it doesn't do much." Hel demonstrated. Nott twitched, but made no other show of his discomfort. "See? It's got to feel like that, and then you aim for the eyes."

Nott nodded.

Hel coached him through the process for a little while longer, and when she was confident that her house-mate was on the right track and could keep practicing by himself, Nott readily held up his end of the bargain and taught her something new as well. Nott's hex caused the target's fingers swell up rapidly and really painfully, which definitely had potential.

Time passed quickly, and before Hel knew it, it was already dinnertime.

…

Dear Papa, Hel wrote.

As you know, the duelling club held its first meeting yesterday. It went well. I learned a new hex, sparred with Blaise, and met some new people. Some of them were interesting, but here's one I think you'll want to know about:

Leslie Elms is a seventh-year. I think they're either a Rain or a Mist from what I've seen of them. Elms is Varia Quality. I think I'll strike up a conversation or two to try and gauge where they stand on the morality scale and if they would be interested in joining something like the Varia, if that's alright with you. I'll wait for your reply though, just in case.

As for my year-mates, it's a work in progress. Most of them have never even seen a duel before, so there's only five of us who know what we're doing. Even then, Ernst and the other two have only ever watched people duelling while Blaise and I have never incorporated any magic worth mentioning into any of our spars before. There's lots to learn and improve upon. Any suggestions?

It hasn't been that cold yet, but it's been raining very often. When it isn't raining, the sky is grey and dreary. I think Blaise finally gave in and sent Aurelia a letter asking her to buy him a pair of rain boots. If you happen to go with her, Blaise has asked me to ask you to remind her: NOT THE YELLOW ONES. Luckily for me, Lupin's Imprevius Charms are working wonders. I just hope they won't wear off before Christmas.

I finished that book you sent me, so I'm sending it back with Hedwig.

Also, Snape has been on his best behaviour.

Lots of love from your daughter,

Hel

…

It was October by the time they got a Defence teacher who wasn't also their headmistress.

Whispers about him had been going around the school ever since Monday morning, but the first-year Slytherins didn't get to see Professor Chang until Tuesday, when he introduced himself as their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and asked them all to make some nameplates.

Professor Chang was young. More so than any other teacher Hel had met yet – dressed in semi-formal robes, he didn't look much older than most of the seventh-years, and had a way of teaching that made it a little too obvious he was modelling himself after McGonagall.

Still. He was a pretty good teacher. Even if he was very strict.

Another week and a half later, a woman was waiting for them inside of Snape's classroom, dressed in rich blues and looking about a year or six older than Professor Chang. She had equally dark hair pulled up into a neat, high bun, was rather petite, and wore round glasses.

"Good morning." She said, "I'm Professor Shipton-Smith, and I will be your potions teacher from today onwards. Please take your seats and I'll start taking register."

Professor Shipton-Smith was another marked improvement. She seemed to actually like teaching, to begin with, offering encouragement in response to things done right while calmly correcting mistakes, and managed not to stoke the fires of inter-house rivalry in the process.

And look at that – Snape had managed to make the bare minimum look like an feat.

"She's a saint." She heard one Gryffindor whisper as they all left the classroom, sounding awestruck.

Since Snape had packed his bags and wasn't coming back, that also meant that Slytherin needed a new Head of House. While everyone was gathered at breakfast the next morning, Professor McGonagall announced that that Professor Sinistra would be taking over. Professor Sinistra taught Astronomy and was generally well-liked, so the announcement got her a decently polite applause.

Hel was just glad that Snape was gone.

Actually, with him out of the way, she could finally go ahead and retrieve the Marauders' Map. Sirius Black had got it confiscated during his last week of school, but Lupin had told Hel where she might find it. Sneaking into Filch's office and remaining undetected long enough to rummage around until she found a something he'd confiscated almost fifteen years ago would be the challenge.

But Hel was nothing if not inventive.

She knew that Weasley didn't like her. Hadn't ever since she'd thrown a Remembrall at his face during the their first flying lesson. She also knew that he was fairly easy to pick a fight with. She had seen Malfoy do it often enough, when he had nothing better to do.

It was mean, but Hel wasn't above being mean, so she enlisted some help – waited until there were no teachers within earshot – and goaded Weasley into an argument. Insulted him, then backed off just when it looked like they were about to get caught… and challenged him to a duel.

"You're not really planning on going, are you?" Daphne asked her later, in an undertone.

"Of course not."

Next to her, Parkinson continued jeering at Weasley and Finnigan's retreating backs.

They didn't really get along, but Parkinson could always be counted on to be a bully, Hel supposed. Daphne didn't bother with such things but still had a delightful mean streak, and so their little team-up had worked out well. Besides, it was something of an unspoken rule that Slytherins stuck together, and everyone had been sufficiently motivated, so the game had been on the moment Hel had initiated it.

"Good." Daphne said, "Not that I don't think you'd wipe the floor with them, but I didn't really want to get out of bed at midnight just to be your second."

"Oh, ooooh, I know – we should tell Filch, that'll get them in trouble!"

This was convenient. Hel hadn't wanted to be the one to suggest it, but she would have done it if nobody else did. As it was, she simply tilted her head and made a thoughtful sound. Then grinned.

"You know what, Parkinson. I think that's a great idea."

"You are evil." Daphne said flatly, but pointedly didn't do anything to stop Parkinson from leaving. Ron Weasley's older brothers – the pair of twins – had played a rather nasty prank on the Slytherins a few days ago and it looked like she wasn't ready to forgive and forget yet.

Either way, her distraction was in place. So… all that was left to do now, was to wait for midnight.

A/N: So. It's been a while. I was taking a break to figure out some plot-things at first and then life happened, as it does. But - lots of character interactions this time, as well as build-up for future events, and even a little bit of foreshadowing... we're slowly but surely making progress, yay!

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of this chapter :)