The spine-chilling rattling of the pipes above Ron's room and Ginny's tentative knock on the door brought Ron's violent orange room décor into relative focus for Harry's unprepared eyes. He blinked owlishly, numb fingers groping for his glasses. His fist finally closed triumphantly over them after a few seconds. "Hurry up, you two! Mum says we'll be late." Ron groaned from under his pile of blankets, looking to Harry like a moving, flame-orange hill. "C'mon, Ron. That was Ginny."
"Don' wanna," he grumbled back, sitting up and ruffling his already tousled red hair. It clashed violently with the Chudley Cannons poster behind his head. Harry blinked twice more to force his eyes to focus, dragging himself to his knees. He stretched his arms above his head, then forced his tingling legs to move him about as he gathered up the items he had left all over Ron's room and cramming them into his already tight-packed trunk.
"Ronald Weasley! Get out of bed!" His mother chirped as she flung the door wide. "Good morning, Harry dear. Toast and sausages downstairs. Nevermind the trunk. I'll have Fred and George fetch it. Ron, get up!" Harry crammed his still-numb fingers into the pockets of his over-sized jeans, cloak trailing crookedly behind him. Mr. Weasley, Ginny, Bill, Charlie, and Hermione were crowded around the breakfast table. Everyone seemed sleepier than usual, owing to the dreary weather. The sky was ominously overcast. Molly Weasley came bustling in behind him and straightened his cloak.
"Morning, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione greeted her, managing a small wave.
"Packed, Mother dear," Fred crooned, dusting down his clothes as he entered the kitchen.
"Ready to go," George confirmed, straightening his sweater.
"What did you two get into?" she asked suspiciously. In response, Ron's angry voice could be heard from the back garden spluttering very colorful words. "What did you do to your brother?"
"Buried the dead," George replied with a shrug.
"He wasn't waking up, so we thought he might be dead," Fred finished, chuckling. Ron stomped in in a foul temper. Molly made the offending dirt disappear with a wave of her wand.
"Now boys, that was very wrong," Arthur Weasley chided, biting back laughter.
"Come on, then," Molly said curtly. "We'll be late if you all don't get in to that car right now." Harry piled bits of toast on a napkin and followed the group out into the yard. The chickens were pecking around a large, mustard-yellow Volkswagen Vanagen. Harry knew instantly that this was another of Arthur Weasley's project cars when he climbed into the seemingly narrow, backmost seat next to Ron and Hermione and Ginny fit comfortably on his other side. Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George seated themselves in the middle seat, laughing about something. Harry could only pick up whispers when he tried to listen in. Molly glanced dubiously back over her shoulder. Satisfied, she faced the front as Arthur tapped the dash with his wand and the car grumbled to life. The smell and décor reminded Harry of Mrs. Figg's drapes. A tacky tree air-freshener, long without scent, hung from the crooked rear-view. The car had the ability to squeeze through small spaces; trees, parking meters, and benches jumping aside as they did when the Knight Bus passed through.
They made it to Platform 9 ¾ with very little time to spare. Mr. Weasley went through first with Ginny, followed by Fred and George, and Harry and Ron went last. Bill and Charlie waved cheerily at them, deciding to wait outside the barrier. Molly brought up the rear, stopping just in time to keep from bowling Ron over as he tried to calm Pigwidgeon down. Harry was busy saying his goodbye to Fred and George, who would return to Diagon Alley and their joke shop as soon as they saw their younger siblings off to school.
Hermione nudged Harry in the ribs, staring intently at a group of frightened-looking first-years and their parents. "What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to follow her line of vision. He saw her standing off to the side of the first years with a man that must have been about the same age as some of the younger parents. The man wore a full set of midnight-blue robes, hat tilted at a jaunty angle over red-brown hair. He hugged the girl tightly, kissing her cheek before saying something to her and walking away. She looked too old to be a new student, but Harry was certain he had never seen her before. The most interesting thing was her cloak, which she wore over nicely-fitting jeans and a red, rugby-style shirt. It was black, but Harry didn't recognize the house symbol emblazoned on the front. It was red and gold, like the Gryffindor lion, but was obviously not the familiar, feline shape. She had the same wavy, red-brown hair as the man who had just left, and brilliant hazel-green eyes.
"Do you suppose she's a transfer student?" Ron inquired, joining in their awed stares.
"I've never heard of a transfer student at Hogwarts," Hermione replied, but did nothing to crush Ron's suggestion. Stranger things had been known to happen, like Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, falling through a doorway into nothingness and death. That thought made Harry shudder and hang his head.
"Isn't she interesting?" Fred breathed, and George elbowed him. It appeared as though both of the twins were intent on the new student as well.
"Get a spot on the train dears, they leave in a minute," Molly prodded, bringing them back to reality. She kissed everyone on the cheek, shunting them along the platform to a car with empty compartments. Hermione and Ron left Harry and Ginny then to go and report to the head boy and girl. Harry slumped in the seat across from Ginny, trying hard not to think about the end of the previous year and the death of his godfather. As the train shuddered into motion, a familiar head peered around the door. It was Neville.
"Mind if we sit with you?" he asked, gesturing to his companion. It was the girl from the platform, smiling brightly. "Everywhere else is full."
"Please," Harry replied excitedly, sitting upright and waving them in. Neville sat next to Ginny, blushing slightly as she smiled her hello. The new girl sat down next to Harry, holding out a hand for him to shake.
"Tyra Gordeeva," she stated, still smiling. "I'm a new student, a seventh-year."
"Where are you from?" he asked, noting her voice was devoid of the British or Scottish lilt usually associated with Hogwarts students.
"Eaglefeather Academy in the United States. My father, Marrick, is an Auror. He came to work for your ministry. Dumbledore is an old friend of Dad's and invited me to finish my schooling at Hogwarts. You must be Harry Potter." She turned to Ginny. "And you must be Ginny. Neville's told me about you."
"How do you know Neville?" Ginny asked, not surprised that Neville had mentioned her.
"I met him this morning on the platform, looking for his toad. I found it perching atop my things." Hermione leaned into the compartment, Ron peering over her shoulder.
"She's in here!" Hermione squeaked, sitting next to Ginny and watching as Ron blushed to his ear-tips and sat next to Tyra.
"I'm Tyra, and you are?"
"Hermione Granger. This is Ron. I saw the dragon on your cloak and had to ask, what academy did you attend in the United States?"
"Eaglefeather. The house I belonged to was Fira Draconis, much like Gryffindor. In fact, I will be attending classes as a Gryffindor at Hogwarts." It was the first time Harry had thought to look at the emblem on her chest. It was indeed the head of a red dragon surrounded with gold.
"Ooh, what's it like there?" Hermione pressed, eyes shining. She seemed breathless, Harry noticed, as though the two prefects had run their rounds.
"Well, different from Hogwarts, I assume. I am studying to become an Auror like Dad. I had Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, and Dueling."
"Dueling is a class?" Ron inquired incredulously.
"Of course it is. If one wants to defend themselves against Dark wizards, one must know how to duel. I have a past with your fabled Lord Voldemort. No way am I going to risk running across him or the Death Eaters unprepared," she replied. Harry noticed how she didn't seem to fear saying Voldemort. In fact, she seemed to have some sort of personal interest in Voldemort. Maybe she was like other students at Hogwarts, who had lost parents to Death Eaters. Harry kept this to himself, however, and instead stared out the window.
"I hear you're a Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Harry," Tyra broke through his personal wall and brought him back to the present.
"He's the best Seeker in years," Hermione vouched for him, smiling proudly. "Ron plays Keeper."
"The team is barely existent. We haven't got a captain, and we need two Beaters and three Chasers. Our team fell apart this year," Harry pointed glumly.
Hermione and Ron got up after a few moments of silence. "We'll be there soon. We'll be needed to keep control," Hermione apologized. Tyra waved goodbye for the otherwise-silent companions.
"All right, Harry?" Neville asked, looking concerned.
"Fine, fine," Harry waved Neville off. In all truth, he wasn't feeling well. His head always hurt, and at Dumbledore's insistence, he would be taking Occlumency lessons from Snape again. Tyra met his eyes with a sympathetic smile, as though she could almost sense what the problem was. Harry wondered how much she knew.
The screeching of the wheels against the rails heralded the inevitable stop at the platform in Hogsmeade. "Thestrals!" Tyra exclaimed excitedly, leaning across Harry to look out the windows. "Cool!" Neville and Ginny shuddered slightly. It was the first time that they had been so visible to either.
"You can see them?" Harry asked, gathering Hedwig's cage to his chest as the train halted and the whistle blared.
"I've been able to see them since I was two," she replied easily. "They had a whole bunch of them back at Eaglefeather. When I was little, Dad used to take me to see them." Harry nodded, smiling slightly. She didn't seem like the type of person to nag him, like his other friends sometimes could when they were worried. She seemed to him like someone who had seen a lot in her life, perhaps even so much as himself. "I suppose I've been able to see them since I saw…" "Cedric Diggory die," Hermione piped in softly as she and Ron caught up. Tyra raised her eyebrows, as though remembering something. Harry didn't bother her.
They found themselves a carriage and settled inside. Tyra set a covered cage in her lap, hugging it guardedly to her chest before sticking her head out the window to get a better look at the thestral pulling them along. Everyone sat in comfortable silence, lost in private thought. The carriage stopped before the sweeping stairway up to the castle. Unlike the others, Tyra refused to leave the covered cage with her trunk. She instead carried it carefully, as though it were highly breakable.
Torchlight wavered feebly from the wind as they forced their way through the jumble of students and into the hallway. Professor McGonagall greeted the four at the top of the stairs, pursed lips drawn into a ghost of a smile. "Harry, Tyra, Professor Dumbledore has requested a word with you. Come, you can wait in my office." Hermione and Ron exchanged curious glances as they watched the pair being led off.
Tyra leaned against McGonagall's desk, studying the board with the explanation of how to transfigure a lemur into a chair. Her gaze moved from the board to the various animals caged around the sides of the room for students to practice on. Harry's eyes finally came to rest on her cage, which she had laid on the front table near an open book. He was about to ask her what was inside it when Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape entered the room. Dumbledore smiled at Harry, eyes twinkling from over his half-moon spectacles. Professor McGonagall seated herself at her desk, folding her hands and resting them in front of her. Snape leaned against the wall, eyeing Tyra with a mixture of pride and contempt. "So, you are both wondering why I asked you here," Dumbeldore began. "As you may have noticed, Tyra is a transfer student. I understand it is highly unusual to finish your final year of schooling at another school, but I think you will find Hogwarts to your liking, Tyra. If you have any questions, Professor McGonagall will be able to answer them for you. She is Gryffindor's head of house. One more thing before you go, Tyra, please wait. Harry, you will be studying Occlumency under Professor Snape. I highly recommend that you treat him with the unmost respect. And lastly, Tyra, I was told about your marvelous bird. Please inform Professor McGonagall of what he is and we will decide if you can keep him here." Tyra pulled the cover off the cage with a nervous twitch of her fingers. It was a bird not unlike Fawkes, feathers silver and ice blue, eyes shining a brilliant aquamarine.
"Taranon is a blue phoenix. They were an accepted animal companion at Eaglefeather Academy. I don't know what I'd do without him!" She seemed ready to spring on defense if someone told her otherwise.
"Of course he can stay. I think Hagrid might have a good time studying him," Professor McGonagall agreed.
"Unless you have questions, you may go to the feast now," Dumbledore told Tyra.
"If it's all right, I'll wait outside for Harry," she replied. At a nod from Dumbledore, Tyra left the room, closing the door behind her.
"Harry, I want you to show Tyra around. Spend some time with her, get to know her. You have more than a few things in common. One is Lord Voldemort. Now, if you have no questions for me, I assure you Tyra is waiting outside." Hary nodded dumbly and pushed the door open before him. After it had swung shut on slightly creaky hinges, the silence was broken.
"Headmaster, do you think it was prudent to tell him that?" Minerva McGonagall asked.
"They both have to learn from one another. She knows more about Harry than he does about her. I thought it fair to prepare him a little." She nodded in agreement with his last statement. Snape had said nothing, but Harry had noticed the odd look in his eyes when he looked at Tyra. It was different than the one Harry was used to getting, and so much more emotional. The oddness of it fled his thoughts as he noticed Tyra sitting next to a statue of a phoenix on the floor waiting for him. Taranon was perched on her shoulder, and crooned a soft signal to her that someone was coming. She looked up at Harry, holding out her hand. He hauled her to her feet, watching Taranon toss his head. Dumbledore emerged after Harry, smiling knowingly at them both.
"Come, help an old man to dinner," Dumbledore offered, a companionable arm thrown around Harry's shoulders. "Better I come with you anyhow to introduce Tyra to the school." He grinned at Tyra who was silent with thought. "How is Marrick Gordeeva, anyhow?"
"Dad is doing well, thanks. He's excited to be helping the Ministry." Dumbledore nodded, leading the way into the crowded splendor of the Great Hall. The four long, trestle tables were packed with eager students. Harry knew that they had missed the sorting. Hermione gestured to them, leading them to saved seats. Curious eyes rested on Tyra and her phoenix, following her progress until she seated herself at the Gryffindor table. Harry caught Malfoy's mouth hanging open and he nudged Crabbe and Goyle.
"Attention, please." McGonagall used her fork against her goblet to gain order from the students.
"I have a start-of-term announcement," Dumbledore stated, looking over the heads of the excited students. Tyra tucked into her meal with ferocity, passing Harry potatoes and sipping her pumpkin juice. "Most of you have noticed the new student in our midst, and are likely wondering what a student in the seventh year is doing starting at Hogwarts. Tyra Gordeeva is joining us for her final year of school after leaving her home at Eaglefeather Academy in the United States. I hope you will all welcome her and help her find her way around. She will be with Gryffindor for her final year, so I expect the Gryffindors to be exceptionally helpful. With that said, first years, please follow your house prefects to the dormitories." Whispered conversation broke out all around. Tyra seemed oblivious as Ron and Hermione called the first years to them and led them away for Gryffindor tower. She remarked only on how the dreary weather affected the enchanted ceiling to Harry as she finished clearing her plate. The older students began to drift off to their respective common rooms. Draco Malfoy had apparently finished guiding his first-year crowd to the Slytherin common room ad reappeared to gather his dense cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Both looked like ungainly gorillas as they shuffled to their feet and followed him to the Gryffindor table.
"Well, if it isn't stupid Saint Potter. Find another worshipper, Potter?"
"Shut it," Harry replied coolly, noticing Tyra had taken to standing beside him. Malfoy had grown tall over the summer, but not as tall as Tyra. He took an unconscious step back, placing himself between his self-appointed bodyguards.
"Find something better to do than torture troubled souls… Draco, right? He has enough to deal with without you to cope with. Get out of here before I report you to Professor Snape." Somehow, Harry knew that Snape probably wouldn't stick up for him, but he kept his mouth closed. The threat seemed to work on Malfoy, at least, for the moment. His normally pallid cheeks were bright red from being so coolly chided. Harry stared dumbly after them. Realization she had just stuck up for him finally dawned.
"Thanks for that," Harry told her, getting to his feet slowly. "I'll show you up to our common room, if you'll let me."
"Of course," Tyra replied, chirping to Taranon. The phoenix jumped from the table and alighted on her shoulder. "Ready. You can touch him," she assured. Harry reached out and stroked the pleasantly warm feathers. So like Fawkes, but so differently colored it was hard to place them as the same kind of creature. Hagrid hurried over to them, boyish eagerness written across his features.
"All righ' Harry? Tyra? Is that a blue phoenix?"
"Dumbledore said you might help me look
after Taranon. I must admit, he kind of found me. I do what I can for him, but
I am not the most well-versed in phoenixes."
"Truly?"
"We'll bring him for a visit to your cabin later," Harry remarked. "I was getting ready to show Tyra around."
"All righ' then. Good night, both o' yeh."
"That was diplomatic," Tyra said approvingly. "I am very tired. Not used to the time change yet." Harry smiled, but said nothing. Hermione and Ron found them going up the trick steps. Harry was explaining the necessity for care when using the staircases when they met.
"There you are, Harry. Good meeting with Dumbledore?" Hermione asked.
"The usual, Occlumency lessons, and…" He glanced at Tyra, remembering Dumbledore's short explanation about things in common.
"You're stuck doing that again?" Ron groaned.
"Well, if he would have done it the first time…" Hermione trailed off. "That's not what we came to bother you about," she said quickly, noting the look on Harry's face. She held out an envelope. It was addressed to him. "McGonagall asked me to give it to you. What is it Harry?" He tore open the wax seal, skimming the first few lines before Tyra yanked it from his hand excitedly.
"Harry's been made Quidditch Captain!" Tyra exclaimed excitedly.
"Congratulations, Harry," Hermione said, seeming relieved.
"Cool!" Ron exclaimed, eager to make up for being named prefect last year while Harry was left wondering. Taranon leaned over and nudged Harry affectionately.
"A blue phoenix, awesome!" Hermione exclaimed. "I've read about them in Monster Book of Monsters. They're not native to this area."
"Of course not. Taranon found me in America," Tyra explained. Harry led the way up the stairs, the portraits sometimes voicing greetings as they passed.
"Password?" The Fat Lady loomed before them, fluttering her purple fan coyly.
"Expecto Patronum," Hermione told her. The portrait hole swung open to reveal hundreds of eager faces.
"I'm off to bed," Tyra stated to the disappointed trio. "Goodnight, Harry. Goodnight Ron, Hermione." Harry shook his head as a few people asked him questions. He too was tired, he realized. He said his goodnights and wandered up the boy's staircase and into the room he shared with Neville, Ron, Seamus, and Dean. The plate on the door read "sixth years". Harry found his things settled at the foot of his bed. Hedwig was waiting for him. She nipped his finger affectionately, asking to be let out without really asking. Harry opened the window and watched her wing off into the night to hunt. Closing the curtains on his four-poster bed, he collapsed, still dressed, and fell into immediate sleep.
Ron gave Harry a nudge in the ribs as they sat over a huge pile of Divination homework. Tyra was playing a game with Taranon, throwing a ball and laughing as he took flight. Hermione was out on rounds, her huge stack of books forgotten on the table in front of them. A gaggle of awed first-years sat in armchairs around the fire, watching Taranon with interest. Harry was vaguely wondering how Tyra could possibly be able to fool around and still pass her classes. He could see her abandoned potions homework sticking out from beneath the Monster Book of Monsters and a copy of Standard book of Spells, Grade 7. Ron elbowed him again, this time more urgently. Hedwig was at the window, clicking her beak impatiently on the glass to be let in. Harry strode the length of the common room and threw the window open. A gust of chilly air blasted across his cheeks, coloring them slightly as Hedwig fluttered to a high-backed chair and waited for him to close the sash with a bang. Tyra glanced up mid-toss, eyes on the owl. Her brow knitted with worry, as though she were certain the news was bad. Harry swallowed subconsciously before untying the letter from Hedwig's waiting ankle. It was addressed jointly to him and Tyra. He waved her over urgently, and Taranon alighted on her shoulder. Harry split the gold, star-shaped seal on the back, willing his hands not to tremble. Ron hurried over as well, not liking the nervous twitch in Harry's shoulder and the look on Tyra's face. There was a newspaper clipping from the Daily Prophet. A picture of Tyra's mother and father winked cheerily at them. Harry blinked at the portrait of her mother, so like Harry looked, but with long waves of hair sweeping down over her shoulders. "Mom, Dad?" Tyra puzzled over their portraits. Ron gaped at the headline, "Last of the Potter-Gordeeva Clan Killed".
"Read it out loud for us, Harry," Hermione prompted, materializing as though out of thin air. Harry retreated into a dark corner, the other three trailing along.
"Marrick Gordeeva, Auror, 37, was killed yesterday during a skirmish with Death Eaters outside of London. Marrick, who is survived by his daughter, Tyra Gordeeva, was part of an assigned group of wizards assigned to protect the Potter family the night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named met his demise at the hands of Harry Potter. A Ministry official has told The Daily Prophet that the attack on Marrick was most likely an attempt to finish what was started long ago. It is unapparent at first glance how he died, but investigators reveal that it was most likely the most evil of all Unforgivable Curses, the Avada Kedavra curse." Tyra's face was ghost white and her jaws were tense. She seemed to have known ahead of time, though how, Harry couldn't tell. Harry stared intently at Tyra. "Your mum and dad were friends with mine?"
"Your mom and mine were best friends at school," Tyra confirmed quietly. Harry nodded in shock. He never heard much about the past of his parents.
"Wait, what's this?" Hermione asked, picking up the dropped envelope from its place between Harry's feet and removing another piece of parchment from inside. This one was made from newspaper clippings from The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. Tyra could recognize the distinctive fonts. It had a very cruel message. "Potter and Gordeeva beware. You'll be next. This time, neither of you will escape." A cruel sketch of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth had been scribbled underneath. Hermione had her hand clapped over her mouth, Ron's hand on her shoulder as she stepped back and dropped the letter. It was as though the inanimate snake had bitten her.
"Well, that's certainly pleasant," Ron gulped, attempting to smile despite the nagging sensation to sink into a chair. Tyra reached out and grabbed Harry's hand. He squeezed it reassuringly.
"Harry, you should show Dumbledore," Hermione prompted expectantly. "Threat letters aren't funny."
"He's not laughing! But she's right. You should go to Dumbledore, Harry, he'll know what to do," Ron agreed. Tyra nodded slightly, as though agreeing. Harry knew he should, Dumbledore was the head of the Order of the Phoenix and deserved to know the whereabouts of the Death Eaters. But he would know anyhow, owing to the fact that it was written in the Daily Prophet. Did Harry want to bother Dumbledore with a silly threat letter? Probably some stupid Slytherin attempting to make them nervous. Draco had been looking smug at dinner. Attempting to smooth his unruly hair, Harry sighed.
"Tyra?" Hermione asked.
"This time I think you can concede, Harry. Just this once. Dumbledore should know what to do about this threat, and I need to know…where I go now. I don't have family at all. Dad was an only child." Harry nodded dumbly. Tyra seemed to be battling her inner emotions well for the time being. Harry wondered to himself how long it would last. Taranon began to sing a mournful tune. It chilled Harry's bones, so high-pitched and haunting.
"We'll take you," Hermione urged. "We're allowed out in the corridors at night. Come on, Ron." The four quietly edged out of the common room, hoping not to be noticed by the students who were still up. Tyra finally lost it, tears trailing fingers down her throat, though she was deceptively quiet. Hermione raised her eyebrows empathetically, and Harry threw an arm around her shoulders. At least Dumbeldore could definitely tell him more about Tyra and her family and the defense team set to guard his parents. Professor Snape stopped them as they reached the hall leading to the griffon statue that was the secret entrance to Dumbledore's office.
"You're not supposed to be out of bed, Potter, Gordeeva. I think twenty points from Gryffindor should be sufficient, don't you?"
"We need to see the headmaster," Tyra stated defiantly, tear-wet cheeks sparkling in the torchlight. "It's important."
"So now we're going to argue with a teacher?" he inquired, tossing his greasy hair and staring at her hard, as though daring her to fight back.
"Yes, I am going to argue with a teacher," she replied sullenly. "This is serious, Professor. If you must know," she stated, waving the article from The Daily Prophet under his nose.
"What seems to be the problem?" Professor McGongall asked. "What are you four doing out of bed?"
"It's as I feared, Minerva," Dumbledore's voice interrupted. "Marrick Gordeeva was killed by Death Eaters. Ron, Hermione, back to Gryffindor tower. Severus, Minerva, follow me. You as well, Harry, Tyra."
FYI, if my OC seems to be a little too good for people, if they think I am trying to one-up Harry in any way, that's not the case. I promise you the need for the character will explain itself as soon as I get a little further in. I promise it will be worth it! Please don't be angry with me!
BTW, I do not own any of the Harry Potter Characters. As much as I wish I could claim half the talent of J.K. Rowling, I can't. OC Tyra Gordeeva is mine.
No flames please!!!!!!