A/N: Re-reading the original published version of this is... cringey. Like, I wrote it while I was severely (for a lack of words) depressed, when I didn't have the mental capacity to see past a certain scene or thought. I should not have posted that. The proof lies with some comments posted before this rewrite is posted, aka before January 29th 2021. I'm frankly embarrassed you had to read that.

CHAPTER 6: Hellhounds All Around

Warning: Bullying and claustrophobia.

"How'd she get in here?" someone asked in annoyance. "And why is she sleeping in the common room?"

"I'm more concerned about how she got here," another person said. "The entrances are charmed!"

"We can hear you," said Harry dryly and sat up. Two fifth year students were gawking at him. "What? Can't I spend some time with my sister?"

"She's in Slytherin—no you can't."

"Other Houses aren't allowed."

"Sad for you. What's the clock?"

"Six."

"Too early, in other words." He caressed Henry's cheek. She grumbled but cracked open an eye. "Wakey-wakey, time to go up."

"What's the time?" His grin was all the answer she needed. "Too bloody early." She sat up and blinked at the students. "Good morning. Sorry to barge in." "Sorry to— Excuse me!"

"Where's she going?"

She was on her way to her common room, what else? Did they expect her to shower here? She didn't have a change of clothes with her, so no she wasn't staying.

"See you at breakfast Harry."

"Sit with me?" he asked. The fifth-years shouted their complaints.

Henry's gait radiated happiness down the spiral staircase and through the corridors until she came to the Slytherin entrance.

"Pureblood," she said, rolling her eyes. The wall parted and she skipped inside. Only to find a pale-faced Theo and furious Draco arguing with Pansy.

"I don't know where she went!" Pansy hissed. "Do I look like a babysitter to you?"

"No but you're roommates, shouldn't you have—"

"Good morning Henry," said Blaise calmly from an armchair. "How was your night?"

The trio turned to stare at her.

"You," Draco said, making his way to her, "where the bloody hell have you been?"

"I slept with Harry. When's breakfast?"

"In about an hour and a half," replied Blaise.

"Wonderful, I have time to shower!" With a wide grin, she moved past them and up the stairs. She took a long nice shower and dressed in her uniform before quickly checking her timetable.

Monday
(9:30:10-30)
Herbology with Ravenclaw
(10:45-11:45) Charms with Ravenclaw
(1:30-2:30) History of Magic with Hufflebuff
(2:45-3:45) Transfiguration with Hufflepuff

Tuesday
(9:30-10:30) Herbology
(10:45-11:45)
DADA with Gryffindor
(1:30-2:30)
Transfiguration
(2:45-3:45)
Charms

Wednesday
(9:30-10:30) DADA
(10:45-11:45)
Potions with Gryffindor
(1:30-2:30)
Charms
(2:45-3:45)
History of Magic
(12:00-1:00)
Astronomy with Hufflepuff

Thursday
(9:30-10:30) DADA
(10:45-11:45)
Transfiguration
(1:30-2:30)
History of Magic
(2:45-3:45)
Flying with Gryffindor

Friday
(9:30-10:30) Potions
(10:45-11:45)
Potions
(1:30-2:30)
DADA
(2:45-3:45)
Herbology
(12:00-1:00) Astronomy

Was it legal to have school after school hours? At midnight? She sighed and put the paper in her bag.

Theo had been dragged to the Great Hall by Pansy by the time Henry walked into the common room. Draco and Blaise had stood their ground and accompanied her. Draco's stares bore into her as they went. She managed to ignore it halfway until it became unbearable.

"If you have a question, ask."

"Where were you and why?"

"Remember when I said Harry and I have never slept separately?" she asked and waited for Draco to realise. His eyebrows rose high on his forehead. He apologised. It was fine she assured him. It must have looked suspicious, seeing Henry tuck in but finding her missing the next morning. His worry was warranted and her own fault.

The Great Hall was filled with students chatting and gossiping. Henry excused herself, explaining she'd promised to eat with Harry.

"Houses usually don't mingle," was Draco's reply. "If they're rude, I'll tell father about it." He didn't understand why she was laughing at him.

They went their separate ways and Harry happily greeted her upon seeing her. The boy to his right grudgingly moved to give her space.

"This is Henry," Harry introduced her. "Henry, this is Michael Corner, Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein."

"Pleasure to meet you."

Michael was the only one smiling as he said the same. She decided talking to them wasn't worth the effort.

"Harry, have you checked the timetable yet?"

"Yeah. We have Herbology together." Terry Boot scoffed at his grin, which earned him a stern look from Harry and a stomp on the foot by Michael. Goldstein rolled his eyes at all of them.

"Potter told us you've finished most of the course literature, is that true?" he asked.

Except History of Magic and Astronomy, they had already finished the books. That wasn't to say they remembered all the spells, potions or whatnot, but they had taken a few notes, at least.

"I don't think anyone else is this eager to learn," said Terry Boot. "I mean, it's school."

The twins looked at each other and shrugged. He obviously hadn't been raised as a Muggle, of course he didn't understand how exciting all of this was. It was magic for Christ's sake. It literally rewrote reality. How awesome wasn't that?

Breakfast ended and Henry promised to see Harry in a bit. As for now however, she should spend more time with her friends. Draco was obviously pleased, because he kept smiling all the way to Herbology.

Professor Sprout was a shorter woman with short curly hair and a kind face. She greeted them as they walked inside and Henry found her voice pleasant and soft.

"Since this is your first lesson, we'll take it easy," she began the lecture. "In Herbology, we learn about the basic ingredients of potions, medicine and much more. Herbs can have both magical and non-magical properties. Sometimes they can be creatures." At that, several students looked on in horror. "No worries, we won't do anything to them. Do you see the flowers in front of you? Does anyone know what it is?"

Henry looked at the dark branch. On it sat a white flower she didn't recognise. Harry though, raised his hand.

"Ah, Mr Potter?"

"It's asphodel, isn't it?"

"Correct! Five points to Ravenclaw. It has both mundane and magical properties, and the root, if powdered, is a potions ingredient. Has anyone read what potions require it? Mr Zabini?"

"Wiggenweld Potion, I believe." He was awarded five points as well.

Henry raised her arm. Professor Sprout looked at her in surprise before nodding. "I'm not sure, but is it used in the Draught of Living Death?" She had a vague memory of it being connected to death, at least to the Greeks. There was said to be a field of asphodels in the Elysian Fields.

"It is! Wonderful, Miss Potter. Five points to Slytherin. Asphodel is also called the Royal Staff. It's from the lily family and symbolises death. It grows on the grounds." For the rest of the lesson, she taught them how to recognise the flower. The stem was dark green in colour, the leaves long and slender and the flowers long and pointed.

As they left the greenhouse, Draco twirled his flower between his fingers. "It smells nice."

"Agreed," Henry replied. "Where next?"

"Charms with me." Harry nudged her shoulder. "Do you want to—" Terry Boot walked up to him and threw his arm around Harry's shoulder.

"Don't tell me you're ignoring us on the first day of school."

Harry, who'd stopped walking, stared at the ground. Henry slapped Boot's hand away. "Harry, what's my favourite English word?"

"Petrichor."

"Exactly. Remember what it means?"

"The smell of rain."

"And why do I like it?"

"Because rain makes you feel good. You always wanna go out when it rains. The dirt smells funny, but you like it."

He calmed down quickly after that. Boot apologised for surprising him. Harry, the angel, nodded and accepted the apology without explaining what actually went wrong. Their group was the last to arrive at Professor Flitwick's classroom. They quickly sat down, Blaise with Draco and Henry and Harry with his friends on the other side of the room.

"Alright students! We're starting small today, with a few theories of magic," the Professor said excitedly. "The first theory—and I suggest you write everything down—is the Theory of Cores." Magic came from somewhere inside the body. Most people felt it around the chest. The conclusion was that somewhere in that area, magic gathered. The place it gathered in was called a core, and cores could be different sizes depending on the person. It wasn't known whether or not blood purity factured into the size or not.

This theory held a lot of weight. People could feel themselves tire after using an excess amount of magic, and with enough rest, their "cores" recharged like batteries.

"The second theory, Neutral Magic, suggests that we do not in fact create our own magic, but that we absorb it from the world around us," Professor Flitwick continued. "Wild magic, that is to say magic in nature, is Neutral, but when we absorb it, it goes through a change."

"How?" Henry asked.

"The magic gathers in our cores."

So both theories used a gathering place for magic, but the difference was that one thought the magic came from the person (the first theory) and the other that it came from nature (the second). In the second theory, the core cleaned the magic from its wild properties to suit the body.

"What's this got to do with Charms, Professor?" asked a Ravenclaw.

"Excellent question. The thing is, without knowing how magic works, it's hard to use it." Well duh. You couldn't drive a car without knowing how to change gear or even turn it on either.

"So how do we use it?"

"When you were younger, do you remember doing things like levitating objects? Maybe make them disappear or move? Or even appear when they were in another room?" Everyone nodded. "Do you remember how it felt? Miss Potter?"

Henry frowned. "It was… warm. Like liquid fire. It seeped from my chest to my hands most of the time."

"That's what it's usually like," the Professor nodded. "That feeling is what we're going to recreate today. You see the feathers in front of you? We're going to use them. The spell is called Wingardium Leviosa. Everyone, draw your wands. This is the wand movement. Do after me."

They felt silly waving their fabulous sticks around, but Flitwick didn't let them stop until they did it almost perfectly. Then he demonstrated the spell, making his own feather rise a few feet off the ground before gently falling back.

"It's all about intent," he explained. "You need to wish for the feather to levitate."

"Then why do we need wand movements and incantations?" Pansy asked in annoyance.

"Good question. Anyone have a guess?"

Henry felt daring and raised her hand. "To focus," was her answer. "You need a goal, the intent: that's the incantation. You need focus: that's the movement. Incantations and wand movements should make it easier to focus on what you want the spell to accomplish, right?"

"Marvelous! That's right, Miss Potter." He looked at Pansy. "That's why silent magic is so hard; you need more focus to do it, at least in the beginning. It's even worse when you use it without a wand to direct the magic. If you're not careful, it will spread through the body instead and the spell won't be cast." He asked if anyone else had a question before letting them try the spell.

Alright. Intent. I want it to fly. How precise do I have to be? She pulled out her wand and mumbled the incantation under her breath.

"What is that?"

She looked at Padma Patil. The girl was focusing on Henry's wand. It wasn't pulsating though. Yet. This was the first time she'd shown anyone the wand, wasn't it? Drat. More and more students paused to look at what was happening.

"Of course they have special wands," someone said in irritation. Henry looked at the wand and let it disappear into her robes again.

"Hey, what's the problem?" snapped Draco. "It's a wand, not the World Cup. Get lost." Blaise smirked at his less eloquent retort but nodded in agreement nonetheless. Even Harry looked ready to snap at the student.

"Wands choose their owners," said Professor Flitwick calmly. "And their looks have nothing to do with anything. Is that a wand from Ollivanders, my dear?"

Henry nodded. "It was made by his great grandfather."

"I see! It's gorgeous. I hope you're being careful with it." She nodded again, her eyes never leaving the feather. "Let's continue the lesson, shall we? Five points to whichever House managed to get the spell correct first." That set fire to the students and they began shouting incantations left and right. Had Ron been here, someone would have lost an eye long ago.


Slytherin took the five points. Blaise was the first to get his feather going. Henry didn't try, not daring to pull out her wand again. Professor Flitwick had a quick word with her after class, where he told her it was fine, but he'd like her to try next time. She promised she would. However, she'd make sure Blaise helped her during spare time to master it. That way she could whip her wand out, perform the spell and be done without anyone knowing what happened.

"Brats," hissed Draco on their way to History of Magic two hours later. Harry had gone with his Housemates to Defence. "I'll show them!" Henry didn't bother asking how. He'd just write another complaint to Lucius Malfoy.

History of Magic was as dreadful as the books and fanfictions described it. Binns was dead, let him rest in peace! He shouldn't have taught the subject even while alive. Theo fell asleep the first ten minutes and even Blaise looked like he had trouble concentrating. The ghost didn't have any charisma or rhetoric ability to speak of.

When they exited the classroom, Henry didn't remember a word. Her notebook was laughably empty.

"How are we to survive that for seven years?" she asked, mortified at the prospect. She had to read up on her spare time, in the library, if she wanted to pass the subject. She wasn't looking forward to it at all.

"Ugh, don't think about it," grumbled Draco. "Wait, where are we going?"

"Transfiguration," Blaise replied, "but we took a wrong turn just now. If we're not careful, we'll end up at the third floor."

"Hell no," Henry muttered and retraced their steps. "Not dying today!"

"Yeah, you've had enough of near-death experiences, haven't you Potter?" sneered Pansy, who was walking past them with Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode. What was this, Mean Girls?

"I like your wand," Millicent told Henry.

"Yeah, it was pretty," Daphne agreed.

Pansy glared at them before rushing away. The girls apologised and ran after her.

"Honest questions." Henry looked at Draco. "How the heck is she your friend?"

Draco was wondering the same thing right now. Pansy had always been clingy, but this was insane. Henry had done nothing to warrant the girl's hatred.

"I'll talk to her," he sighed. "She listens to me."

"Let's hope."

Professor McGonagall sat perched on her desk in her Animagus form when they entered. Her eyes followed them as they sat down, Draco with Theo and Blaise with Henry. Theo looked relieved seeing it was Draco and no one else.

The last students arrived. Professor McGonagall didn't move until someone asked where she was. She took a great lead and transformed mid-air and walked back round the desk. To say everyone was impressed was an understatement.

"What was that?" Draco asked from in front of her.

"She's an Animagus," Henry replied quietly. When they got older, she wanted to learn it too. All right, since she was a Metamorphmagus, she might not need it, but it sounded fun. If she had the time, maybe.

Professor McGonagall explained the same thing about intent and incantation as Professor Flitwick. During the whole lesson, they practiced the Transfiguration alphabet. A few letters (or hieroglyphs) reminded her of moon glyphs, others she recognised from her past life, having researched different alphabets (both real and fake) in an attempt at creating her own language. It was sad she didn't have her notes with her now.

The alphabet was easy to learn—for Henry at least. The same could not be said for the formula, which Henry didn't understand squat about. Professor McGonagall explained Transfiguration as more scientific than other subjects, which of course made Henry think of physics, with atoms and molecules. Was it possible to split an atom with magic? Surely someone would have done so if that was the case.

The hour was up and Henry's brain wasn't more than mush. The formula they'd learned had looked like three different gibberish mashed together and upside down. There had been some math involved as well, and Henry was worthless at that.

"Freedom," Theo said and stretched his arms. "I wasn't sure she would shut up."

"How many alphabets do you think the Transfiguration alphabet consists of?" asked Henry. They stared at her. "What? Some looked similar to the Witch Alphabet, moon glyphs, astrological planetary signs… I can go on all day."

"How do you know this?" asked Draco. "I didn't recognise anything." She shrugged to which he rolled his eyes. "Fine, keep it a secret."

She grimaced, but hung her head so her hair covered her face. They chatted on their way to the library, where they were meeting with Harry. He gave Henry a big hug before settling down to her right. Draco sat to her left.

"Professor Quirrell isn't afraid of handing out homework," he complained. "We have to write ten inches on the Curse of the Bogies—what kind of curse is that even? And ten inches? Just a moment, I have to find a ruler somewhere in this ancient castle."

Blaise snorted. "Careful Harry, your sarcasm is showing."

"The sarcasm is strong with this one," Henry mumbled and giggled at her own reference. No one except Harry understood it. He chuckled and gave her a high-five.

"What?" asked Theo. "What's that about?"

"Movie reference," the twins said.

"That's creepy."

"Rude."
Draco rolled his eyes. "What's a movie?"

Harry gaped. He'd never heard of a movie before? "You know the paintings move, right?" He waited for the boys to nod. "Well, that's what a movie is, in a sense. But you can't interact with it. What they say and do are predetermined."

"Wicked," Theo said.

"Let's just get done with this," sighed Henry. She picked up A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot to work on her homework. After she was done, she'd roam the library a bit to see if she found something interesting to read. There were a few spells she wanted to learn in advance, Accio for example. And Protego.


The dream scared her awake before washed away, leaving not a trace behind. Henry had far more pressing concerns to deal with. The walls were closing in on her. Quickly, she pulled on her shoes and rushed out of the room, down the stairs and out of the common room. The cold air forced the rest of her sleepiness away.

There was no destination. In reality, she wanted to curl up in Harry's bed again but knew when she was not welcome. It was one thing to intrude during breakfast, another to break into the common room in the dead of night.

And she couldn't depend on Harry for all eternity. Draco had said their behaviour was odd. Granted, he didn't have siblings, but she knew he was right, having had one in her previous life.

She wasn't sure if she wanted it to be previous. By loving Harry and seeing him as a brother, was she betraying her original family? Were they actually "original"? She had no idea if reincarnation was normal or not. Either way, she wasn't sure if she wanted to return to her past life, having grown up with Harry and magic.

She shook her head. Focus, she scolded herself. They were eleven now and in different Houses. Out of respect for tradition, she had to refrain from sneaking into his common room every night, though she longed for the safety he provided.

I don't like it. Why did the Hat have to place them in different Houses? She knew the answer, she really did, but it was a bitter reminder that though they were twins, they were not the same person.

Harry, not knowing fully about Voldemort and the books, grew up regarding knowledge higher than anything else. Henry, wanting to survive, thought its usage was more important. Of course that landed them in different places, but that didn't stop her from disliking it.

She'd made it to the godforsaken stairs. They barely moved so late at night, when no one but teachers were supposed to be awake. Should she go back? She wasn't tired. And the thought of returning to the bed wasn't as welcoming as it should be. It was a strange room, with strange people, sounds and smells. It wasn't theirs.

The staircase in front of her moved. Before she could think it through, she jumped on. Let the stairs decide where to go. She wasn't returning anytime soon anyway. Why not roam around a little? As long as Mrs Norris and Filch didn't find her, she was safe.

She left the stairs and looked around the new corridor. She hadn't been here before, but Hogwarts was so big it wasn't exactly hard to find oneself in a new place. Especially on the second day of being here.

There were tons of cabinets. Each one hosted different things. The first one was full of moving pictures of people she didn't recognise. The photos looked old. She took a closer look and read the names underneath. Holland Hallower, what an unfortunate name. Bane Vikander, Anya Kowalski, Phantasos Osmander, Anais Soleil, Thanatos Roserage.

She paused. Roserage—the man on the card. He'd gone to Hogwarts? Of course he has. She really shouldn't be surprised. Curious, she took a better look at him. He was taller than the others, with dark skin and bright hair. She couldn't see any defining colours though; the photos were too old for that, but she admitted he was handsome.

"Class of 1865," she read. Wow, a hundred and twenty-six years ago. How long did wizards live, again? Two hundred years? He should be dead by now, or at least old.

"Do you enjoy nightly walks?" Before she had a chance to scream, George clasped his hand over her mouth. "Sorry," he whispered, "couldn't resist."

"Thanks for scaring the life out of me," she muttered when he let go. "And weren't you saying something about getting better at that?" She eyed his hand in disdain.

"Uh." He coughed. Fred snorted.

"She got you now."

"Shut up." George smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Kind of forgot. The temptation of surprising you was too great."
She noticed. "What are you doing here? And how'd you know where I was?" That same faded parchment from before stuck out from Fred's hoodie. "What's that? A map?"

"Uuh, kind of." He not-so-discreetly pushed it further into his pocket. "So, what are you doing out here?"

"Couldn't sleep." She began moving again. The cold was seeping in from her pajamas.

"Are you an insomniac?" asked George. He flanked her right side while Fred took her left. She felt like a little sister. Except Ginny would probably punch them.

"Close enough. How'd you find me?"

"Lucky guess."

"You think I'll believe that?"

They shrugged.

"You have to," said Fred.

"Because we're not telling you," continued George. She rolled her eyes, to which they grinned. "But since you're up and about, how about a tour of the castle?"

Sounded like a good idea, actually. She had to find her way sooner or later, and who better to help her than the boys with the Marauder's Map at their disposal?

"How about we go back?" said Fred suddenly. "This is the third floor, right?"

George grabbed the map from his brother's pocket, activated it under his breath and checked. "Drat, it is. Let's go."

Of course that's when Fluffy decided to snore. Loudly.

They froze. Though Henry knew what it was, she was afraid. Fluffy was huge, with powerful paws and sharp teeth. Not to mention three heads. He wasn't something she wanted to encounter in the dead of night.

"What the bloody hell was that?" whispered George. Henry smiled faintly at him. He stood between her and where Fluffy must be, on the other side of the fork behind them.

"I dunno, but best not find out."

"Aren't you two made for this?" Henry teased as they inched their way back to the staircases.

"We love pranks, not death," muttered Fred. Fluffy snored even louder. The boy jumped. "What is that?"

"I dunno. But whatever it is, it must be hu— Gah!" George tripped over Henry's feet and sent them sprawling on the floor. The snores stopped.

"Oh Merlin," Fred breathed.

For a moment, no one moved. Then Fluffy took a step forward. Being as big as he was, the step reverberated through the corridor.

I'm so glad this isn't a horror movie, ran through Henry's mind seconds before the dog poked one of its heads around the corner. It stared at them and they at it. The silence stretched on for what felt like half a moment and three eternities. Then Fluffy howled in rage.

"RUN!" the twins screamed. Fred dragged them both to their feet and they bolted through the corridor and back to the safety of the stairs. They ran down them as well, Henry nearly falling on top of Fred.

They didn't stop until they were halfway down the dungeons. Henry lay down on the ground, panting, while Fred leaned against the wall and George sat by his legs.

"That's a big dog," Fred said between deep breaths.

"Cerberus," Henry said. "Did you see the other heads?"

George wheezed. "Hell no. I was trying not to get eaten. Now I understand why Dumbledore warned us about it." And he was never going back.

"Why the hell have a Hellhound in a place full of children?" Henry asked. It was something she'd always wondered about. The protection around Fluffy was far too lacking for a school with Muggleborns (and frankly any child) not to get hurt while curiously exploring. It didn't matter Dumbledore explicitly told them to stay away. Children were curios and dumb.

"Beats me."

Fred hummed thoughtfully. "There must be something in that corridor Dumbledore doesn't want anyone to find."

"Let it stay that way." George eyed his twin in suspicion. "We're not going back there, Freddie. Just no."

"Never said we were. I don't want to set foot there ever again." He shuddered. "Seeing a Hellhound once is enough. And I don't care what it's guarding if I have to lose my life for the answer."

"I second that," said Henry from the ground. "I can't feel my legs." George gave her a mischievous grin and poked her knee. "Seriously?"

"Of course. Now, let's get you back to bed. Enough adventure for today."

"Aw, but what about the tour?" She took their offered hands and they pulled her to her feet. "I was looking forward to it."

"How about another night?" yawned Fred. "I doubt this will be the last time you're up until witching hour."

She couldn't very well refute that, so she kept quiet. They walked her through the dungeon until they were two corridors away from the common room. Fred and George bid her goodbye with identical grins and sauntered away. She waited until their footsteps died down before she walked the rest of the way.

She collapsed into her bed, falling asleep as soon as she pulled up the cover.


The rest of the week went by fairly good. They began Tuesday with Herbology and Professor Sprout was eager to teach them. Defence wasn't anything like she'd expected. Quirrell's stammering was subpar at best, and she wasn't sure why no one else noticed. Probably because they were busy giggling at his turban and gagging at the strong smell of garlic.

They had Defence with Gryffindor on Tuesdays. Hermione was already in the classroom when Henry and her friends entered.

"I'm going to sit with her," Henry whispered to Draco and Blaise.

"She's a Mudblood," Draco replied, scandalized at the thought.

Henry gave him a long look. "So was my mother. Thanks for the reminder."

Hermione looked surprised when she asked if she could sit with her but happily agreed. "Won't your friends be upset?" she asked.

"Draco is. Don't mind him too much. He's an immature child and doesn't know better. I'm trying to teach him it's not right." She made him sound like a dog.

Oh Sirius. She hoped he was fine, wherever he was. She was starting to miss him.

Draco looked at the girls chatting quietly while Quirrell held his lesson. Henry was tricky to talk with. She was a Halfblood and grew up as a Muggle—of course she got upset he spoke about Hermione like that.

"I hope you're thinking of apologising," murmured Blaise.

"Of course. I don't want her to be angry with me."

Blaise didn't bother explaining that's not a good reason to apologise. He'd sit back and watch the boy make a bigger fool of himself. It was good entertainment.

Quirrell didn't teach them anything noteworthy. Henry didn't even remember what he'd talked about. A kind of animal, maybe? She asked Hermione if she knew.

"Curse of the Bogies," she replied. "Weren't you listening?"

"I thought I was, but apparently nothing stuck." She'd ask Harry to read his notes. Again, hers were empty.

She hadn't gotten her daily dose of Harry yet, so she left her friends at lunch to sit with him and recharge her batteries. His yearmates hadn't warmed up to her (surprise surprise) but at least they were speaking to her. He promised to give her his notes after classes ended.

During Transfiguration, they repeated the alphabet and formula until everyone could recite and draw them perfectly. That was about all they had time for.

"Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall called. "Please stay a bit."

She looked at her. Had she done something wrong? Perhaps McGonagall knew she'd been out after curfew or seen Fluffy. How was she to get out of this? She didn't want detention!

"How are your Housemates?"

"I'm so sorry Professor, I— Wait, what?"

Professor McGonagall gave her a small smile. "Slytherin consists mostly of heirs to Dark Pureblooded families. They usually don't take kindly to Halfbloods or Muggleborns. I wonder if you've had any problems thus far."

Oh. Of course she was worried. Henry felt silly for working herself up over nothing. "Well, not really. Draco and Blaise have been nice since the beginning. I don't think anyone dares to do something because they like me."

"Draco Malfoy?" McGonagall sounded genuinely surprised. "I've seen you together a few times, but to think you were this close."

Henry shrugged. Draco wasn't a good person by any means, at least not in canon, but he was the first friend she made and he tried very hard to be nice. She wasn't going to chide him for a few mistakes. She was, however, going to do something about his view on blood status. If not because she thought it wrong, at least because she didn't want to hear him sneer at her mother and Hermione.

"I miss Harry though," she said to take the attention off of her friends.

"Don't you see him every day?"

Only because she barged in during lunch.

"We've always been together," she explained to the witch. "Being separated like this is… a new experience. I don't know about him, but I'm not totally comfortable with it."

Professor McGonagall gently patted her on the head. Henry tried very hard not to show her discomfort.

"Give it more time," the older witch said gently. "This is your second day of school, after all. Now, hurry up, your friends have waited long enough."

Henry gave her a dazed "Thank you Professor" and hurried out of the classroom.


The library was a vast space of tall bookshelves that stretched on and on. It was much bigger than Henry had anticipated. Harry laughed beside her and told her to stop jumping like an overeager puppy.

While the twins marveled at the collection of books, Blaise and Draco found them seats. The Purebloods took the armchairs while the twins cozed up against each other on one of the two sofas.

They spent maybe two hours finishing today's homework before sneaking off to explore the library. Blaise and Draco took one look at each other and shook their heads.

"Look! A History of Spells." Harry opened it. "From between the years 1001 and 1898. Odd dates, but still cool." He flipped through a few pages. "These must be fourth-year spells or higher! Think we can learn them?"

"Only if they have instructions," replied Henry and took a look above his shoulder. "Aparecium sounds convenient." It was used to reveal hidden messages. Definitely something they needed in this place. "Let's take it with us."

They read through it together, jotting down spells and their functions as they went. The most useful ones were Alarte Ascendare, which sent the target flying; Aparecium; Appare Vestigium, a tracking spell that revealed traces of magic; Ascendio, which lifted the caster up in the air; and Capacious Extremis, which was the incantation for the Expansion Charm on their trunks. That one they definitely had to learn.

"Those are not first-year spells," Draco said. "Are you trying to learn them?"

"Yup," replied Henry, popping the p. "These are all convenient to know."

He looked through their notes and raised a sceptical eyebrow. "I'd rather you focus on defensive spells instead. You can never have too many. Especially you two."

They looked at him for a moment. Had Draco just expressed worry for their safety? Why? Was Lucius planning something already?

I hope not, Henry thought sourly. She didn't want the plot to derail more than it already had. If everything changed, she wasn't sure their preparations would ensure their survival. How did you plan for something you had no knowledge of?

"Snakelet, hatchling!"

Huh? They turned around to see Fred and George wave. They leaned on the back of the sofa, careful not to touch the first-years.

"How's school been?" Fred asked.

"Have you had Quirrell yet?" asked George.

"Oh no," whispered Draco and buried his face in his Potions book. Blaise greeted them with a nod, but otherwise ignored them.

"I had him yesterday," said Harry. "Barmy, he is. Can't stop looking at the windows like something's gonna attack. And he's shite at teaching."

"Yeah," sighed Fred. "We noticed too. Did you smell the garlic?"

Henry wrinkled her nose. "It's impossible not to. Half the class looked ready to puke then and there."

"His stuttering is annoying too," complained George. "I know he can't help it, so I try to ignore it, but great Merlin, it's driving me mad." Even Blaise and Draco nodded at that.

"Oh, have you had Potions yet?"

"I have it tomorrow," said Harry.

"Same," Henry replied.

"Brace yourselves," George warned. "Except you Henry, you're fine." At her odd look, he explained, "Snape would never take points from a Slytherin. He might give you detention instead, but he won't take points. Harry's kind of safe I guess, I mean he's not in Gryffindor."

Fred grinned. "You see, Snape hates Gryffindor. He takes points for ridiculous stuff. Once we stuffed his cauldron with powder. It blew up in his face—spectacular, I promise you—and he took ten points! Ten! For a harmless prank."

Draco groaned from behind his book. Blaise simply shook his head.

"What?" Fred looked at George. "Unwarranted, right?"

"Yep."

"I see he doesn't have humour," Harry offered. "Thanks for the warning though."

They grinned in reply. Then George noticed the book in Harry's lap. "What's that? Extra curricular studying? Sheez."

"Hey! Magic is awesome," the younger twins exclaimed.

"Don't you dare make fun of us," Henry pouted.

"Sorry sorry."

"Ah, we have to go," Fred said and nodded at Madam Pince. She was coming their way. "See you later!" They dashed off, laughing as they went.

Harry and Henry chuckled good-naturedly before returning to the book. They promised to meet on Saturday after breakfast to try the spells.


The longer into the evening they got, the more students tucked in for the night. At last it was only Henry's group and Pansy's trio left. Theo was the first to give in, having yawned every few minutes for two hours. Millicent excused herself too, and with her went Daphne.

Pansy looked like she wanted to say something to Draco, but Henry's presence made it hard. So Draco refused to move until Henry did, because he wasn't in the mood to confront the girl yet. He hadn't figured out the best way to talk to her about her behaviour.

"See you tomorrow," said Blaise at half past twelve. "Pansy, a word?" His dark gaze refused her to disobey. Finally she disappeared.

Henry let out an audible sigh.

"She's rather intense, isn't she?" said Draco apologetically. "I haven't spoken to her yet."

"It's not really your fault."

"I know but… you're both my friends."

Henry gave him a small smile. "How do people become friends, anyway?" She barely remembered her old ones, only blurry shapes without faces and voices. She and Harry hadn't had any before they came here.

"Uh. Good question." He frowned at the book in his lap. "If you like someone, and they find you pleasing as well… or maybe if you are both comfortable with each other and have similar interests, that's ground for friendship."

"Do we have similar interests?" Henry didn't know. She didn't remember much, if anything, of Draco's private life. What was his favourite colour? Did he still play with toys—did magical children do that at all?

The boy she'd read about had been a character on paper, words strung together to create a bully and rival to Harry. The boy in front of her was their friend, a somewhat clumsy boy she knew nothing about.

She had to change that.

"Hm… You like Potions, right?" She nodded. "I do too. It's the only thing we can practice without breaking the law. Father built me a potions lab, and I've made good use of it."

She hadn't known. She knew he was studious—though he complained at her and Harry's overachiever attitude, he took his homework seriously and almost always had one of the school books with him. But that had never translated as liking any of the subjects, not enough to dedicate a whole room to it.

It's like that fanfic, she remembered fondly. Her all-time favourite Harry Potter fanfic had Harry, now a girl, obsessed with potions, one reason being it was the only "magic" a child was allowed to dabble in. It hadn't finished before she got here. The author had had eleven years since then—was it finished? She hoped it was. And she hoped it was as splendid as its potential made it out to be.

"What about Flying and Defence?" she asked.

Draco grinned boyishly. "We haven't even had the first lesson yet, how would I know? And come on, Defence is a joke. The Weasley twins weren't off about that." Offhandedly, he mumbled, "Maybe I should write to father about that too."

Henry snorted. How like him. Even with her putting a dent in the plot, some things never changed. At least he wasn't bullying people.

"Why do you laugh every time I say that? Is it really that funny?"

"It is. I apologise."

He rolled his eyes. "Apology accepted. But Henry… I'm sorry too, for today." He fidgeted with the end of a page. "I truly didn't mean to disrespect you, Harry or your mother. I… didn't think before I spoke."

"It's often like that, isn't it?" she whispered. "Using Mudblood for Muggleborns, I mean. What makes you think less of them? They don't look any different, do they?"

Draco fought with himself. Whatever he said, it would hurt or upset her. He didn't want that, but at the same time, she had asked a question. Surely she could take the answer.

"It's… How do I explain without you throwing hexes at me?"

She gave a laugh. "I don't know any hexes yet."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed. "I don't believe you, with all that extra studying you do. What's that for, either way?"

"We… grew up with Muggles. Our aunt and uncle, I mean. They never liked magic, mostly because Vernon—our uncle—never knew about it before he met mum and Petunia—our aunt." She looked into the dying fire.

Petunia was jealous of Lily. She was intelligent and good at magic, whereas Petunia was 100% Muggle, without a spec of magic in her. Whatever Lily did, their parents praised her. Wouldn't anyone, without proper knowledge, come to hate the very thought of magic? Henry didn't think ill of Petunia for hating Lily. She understood where she came from, but at the same time, if Dumbledore or anyone had just explained everything properly, things might have gone different, at least for Harry and her.

Vernon, on the other hand, was a typical Muggle. Born to two Muggle parents, he knew no one that was sent to Hogwarts and grew up as a boring man (which had nothing to do with his lack of belief). It was a miracle he even believed Petunia when she explained everything to him—and that he didn't send her and Harry to be examined by scientists as soon as their magic appeared.

"We always knew we were special. Our cousin, Dudley, feared what we could do. He couldn't replicate it at all. It was only us. When we got the letters…" She laughed quietly and without humour. "People like us? It was a dream come true. Finally people would understand. Or so I thought. I guess no society is perfect."

Draco was sure she wasn't aware, but he was ashamed of her words. He was one of those people that shunned her and her mother.

"Mud— Muggleborns don't know anything about us," he said quietly, slowly, afraid she'd be upset. "About us, our rules or our societies. They hinder us in our education—why do you think first-years aren't allowed their own brooms? Why we even have a Flying class to begin with? Purebloods and even Halfbloods learn to fly at an early age. It's basically a requirement, though we seldom use it for anything other than sports."

"Many Muggles learn to ride a bike, not not all of them have a need for it." Ekängen had been far enough from the city that taking the bike wasn't worth it. Everyone out there owned a car, and the children took the bus. Only a select few took the bike to and from work. She'd only done so when she still went to middle school there, but any higher and she took the bus. When she'd grown older and enrolled in the local university, it had been on the other side of town. Biking then would have taken hours.

"I've seen them," said Draco. "Look bloody dangerous if you ask me."

She snorted. "And flying on a broom without safety measures isn't?"

He had the decency to blush.

"But okay, I get that introducing your society and traditions to outside people is vulnerable and dangerous. But this isn't Medieval Europe anymore; you're not about to burn at the stake."

What Draco said next chilled her. "People are fickle creatures. What they don't understand, they fear. It's the same for wizardkind as well."

Henry didn't have anything to say to that. He was right, people were afraid of what they didn't understand. That was why, in her previous life, they weaved stories of creatures in the night, mean faeries that took your children, ate your friends and enslaved you for the fun of it. That's why gods existed—to explain the unexplained, to give humankind a sense of relief, safety, of understanding.

Gods may or may not have existed before, but in this world? If magic was possible, then surely they were, too.

What if it's the same as here? a quiet voice whispered.

It was a thought she wasn't ready to entertain yet. Just as she worried there were at least one world for every book written (meaning every author and the like were gods in their own right), the thought of this world being the same as her old one terrified her.

What if she'd been born a true Muggle then, without knowledge of the magical world? There were fanfics out there that touched upon this very idea, of Harry's world being the real one, with JK Rowling as an exiled or whatever witch that wrote of his life. She vaguely remembered one where the heroine travelled back in time to Harry's fourth year and learned the magical world wasn't fiction, but reality.

Her fingers itched at the thought of seeing her parents and sibling (siblings?) again, of learning what happened to her. But at the same time, she wasn't their Henrietta anymore, if that had even been her name. Henry was Harry's sister now, and a witch.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked. "I'm sorry if what I said offended you."

"No, you're right." She shook her head to rid herself of her thoughts. "Muggles are dangerous. Without magic, they have found other ways to move society forward, other answers to their questions."

He nodded. "Mudbl— Muggleborns aren't pure. They defile our blood and make it weaker."

"Really? How many studies have been done on it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's just… fact. I mean, they aren't trained the way we are, aren't brought up the right way… and of course, they force their ways upon us."

His words reminded her of something she'd read once. "Wizardkind stopped developing because they thought they had reached the pinnacle," she murmured. "But the truth is, there are more answers than one, rarely is anything black and white."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She smiled sadly. "It means that for a society to become better, it must always develop. Never can it stop. And to do this, it's introduced to outside influences. I'm not saying all influences are good," she hastened to say at his horrified expression, "but a lot are. There are more than one magical society in the world, right?" He nodded. "Then it means there are more answers to questions, more solutions to problems, than one. The Amazonians might have a more effective medicine for werewolf transformations, or they might have the answer to a conundrum Britain's struggled with for centuries.

"We learn from each other, Draco. That's what schools and exchange programmes are for. Why can't society do the same?"

He sighed, taking in everything she just said. "Your words would hold more weight if they didn't come from someone brought up by Muggles."

She gave a dry smirk. "Everything I just said comes from Muggle society. I read it somewhere once. And who else is to realise this, when magicfolk aren't interested?"

"Touché…" Then he giggled. "How'd we go from hobbies to blood politics?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes, when you find a really good friend, the topic doesn't matter. As long as you enjoy it, you can talk about everything between heaven and earth."

Her words warmed him. "Thank you. I hope we'll stay friends."

"Me too."

He yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes. "How about we resume the conversation—about hobbies, not politics—tomorrow?"

"Sounds good."

They walked together until the corridor separated into different dorms.

"See you tomorrow," yawned Draco.

"Good night."

She opened the door to her room, only to find Pansy sitting on her bed, glaring at her. Not in the mood to deal with the girl, Henry averted her gaze and locked herself into the bathroom. The mirror beckoned her to come closer. What she saw was a deathly pale girl whose freckles and scars shone brightly against her skin, her green eyes illuminated by nothing. She looked tired. If only she could get some decent sleep.

She brushed her teeth and washed her face. Pansy was still sitting on her bed when Henry returned and changed into her pajamas.

"I don't understand what Draco sees in you," Pansy snapped. "Great Merlin, you're a Halfblood and the reason the Dark Lord is dead."

Henry took a deep breath and sat on her own bed. "You make it sound bad that he's dead."

"Can you blame me? He wanted to change the world! No more blood traitors in our midst, no more dirty Mudbloods to sullen us. We don't need their technology; we're doing just fine without it!"

"Ever heard of racism?"

Pansy paused. "What?"

Why was Henry even surprised she didn't? "In the Muggle world, there's a word for people discriminating against the colour of people's skin. They're called racists and are looked down upon. But once upon a time, that ideology was fine. Black people were—and still are in some places—looked down on because of stereotypes created by racism. By not giving them a chance to prove themselves, they're forced into these stereotypes to survive. It's the same for Muggleborns. You treat them as lesser because of something they can't help. You force them into a position unfavourable to them. Why is it so hard to accept they can't change how they were born?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Nice little speech, Potter, but I don't care what happens to them. I want them gone from Hogwarts and my home. They steal our magic and our children."

"Pardon?" Steal their children? That was the first time Henry had heard of something like that. "What do you mean?"

"You're friends with the Weasley twins, so you gotta know they have loads of siblings."

"Five," Henry corrected.

"Whatever. They're one of few Pureblood families with so many children. Most of us only have one, maybe two. We can't have more."

"Maybe because you're inbred to the extreme?"

For a moment, Pansy didn't say anything. She was looking at Henry with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"How dare you?" she screeched. "You disgusting Halfblood! What gives you the bloody right to say that? We're not inbred—we're preserving our blood and abilities!"

Henry didn't dare say anything. "Yeah, I apologise for my rudeness. Let's go to sleep now, Pansy. It's a long day tomorrow."

"I'm not sleeping with the likes of you. Leave."

"Excuse me? This is my room too."

"I'm the Pureblood here, I'm not sleeping outside. You go sleep with that brother of yours." Under her breath Henry heard her say, "Why'd the Hat even let you in here?"

Henry took her wand and a blanket and her shoes and quietly left the dorm. The empty common room was too big to comfort her, rather it felt like she was drowning, so she left through the doorway.


She wandered the corridors aimlessly. Her feet took them wherever they felt like going. She was already way past the Great Hall and staircases, somewhere far away from any living creature. The corridors here weren't lit with torches anymore. They were drenched in darkness. To blend in, Henry's body turned black. When she first noticed, she wondered if it was okay, remembering her conversation about racism with Pansy. She decided it was, since she wasn't trying to be rude, just hide.

Please allow me at least this.

Where was she, even? It was getting extremely cold, much more so than a few minutes ago. The outside must be close. Maybe someone left a window open.

She came to a thin, metallic spiral staircase. It looked precarious, like it wasn't supposed to be used, but she was curious and braved the first few steps either way. It complained a lot. In the compact silence, it screamed like it was dying, piercing her ears, almost making them bleed.

At the top hung a walkway, crisscrossing through the air. There were a lot of painted glass on the walls, throwing colourful shadows everywhere. It looked a bit like a cathedral. On the other side of the room (if she could call it that) was a platform. On the wall behind it hung clockwork. Actually, all around her pieces hung, some moving constantly while others were still.

Ah. The clocktower. She couldn't remember Hogwarts having a giant clock, but at least in the third movie she had a vague memory of Harry hiding in one.

She walked across the walkway, not daring to look down, and stopped at the back of the clock. She looked out the painted glass but couldn't see much. The glass vibrated with light while the outside was pitch black.

It was so cold, but it kept her awake. She didn't want to sleep, didn't want more nightmares. She should have gone to Harry instead of here, but he needed his sleep. He must have an easier time falling asleep without her. She should be happy about it, but she only felt a pang of pain. It wasn't fair of her to wish he had as much of a problem like her, but it was hard to stop.

She jumped when another blanket fell on her shoulders.

"This must be the coldest place at Hogwarts, if you don't count the dungeons," Fred said quietly. "Honestly Henry, what are you doing here?"

She turned to look at the twins. They had thick, knitted turtlenecks thrown over their pajamas.

"Sorry."

They frowned in worry. George offered a hand. She didn't take it.

"You were hard to find this time," he said, "always moving around. Are you crying?"

She touched her cheek. Apparently she was. The cold had numbed her cheek ages ago, so she hadn't noticed.

"Henry, what happened?" asked Fred.

When she didn't reply, George crouched so he didn't tower over her. "Give me your hand, just for a moment." Reluctantly, she obeyed. He waved his wand above it and warmth flooded her system. "It's a Heating Charm," he explained. "Feeling better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Good." He stood again. "So, why are you wandering all of Hogwarts, crying?"

She averted her eyes for a moment. She wasn't in the mood to talk about Pansy. "Nightmare."

"Must have been a bad one. Let's get you back."

She shook her head. What would Pansy do if she returned? "I can't. I don't want to. It's… it's uncomfortable."

Fred and George exchanged troubled looks. "Then," Fred said, "how about that tour?"

She nodded. George pulled at her hand still holding his. "Then let's go."

They didn't talk much as they snuck back to the warmer parts of the castle, avoiding Filch and Mrs Norris, teachers and Prefects as they went. Once they nearly ran into Quirrell. He kept muttering things to himself. It sounded like potions ingredients.

"He didn't stammer," Fred whispered as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Maybe he only does it when he's nervous?" George suggested.

Or because he doesn't want anyone to suspect he's got Voldemort on his head. But she wasn't about to tell them that. Meeting Quirrell only reminded her of her mission. She had to do something about the Philosopher's Stone. She no longer remembered exactly when in the book Harry got it, but she remembered he wore the knitted shirt Mrs Weasley gave him at Christmas. Of all things to remember…

"This is the abandoned part," mumbled Fred. "See the torches? If they're not lit, it means these corridors and classrooms aren't in use."

"We usually try out our pranks here," George told her. "Before we use them on others."

"Others?" Henry gave them a suspicious look. Were they saying they experimented on themselves? How reckless!

"Nah, we use dummies first," Fred assured her.

"Yes, and when we stop blowing them up or dismember them, we try it on ourselves or Lee."

Speaking of the boy, she hadn't seen him yet.

"That's because he usually doesn't traverse the castle in the dead of night."

"Unless, of course, there's a prank." George winked. Henry rolled her eyes.

They kept going. The twins showed her a few hidden passages and where they went. Once they walked past where she was sure the Room of Requirement lay hidden. She promised herself to come back for it. If Pansy tried to chase her away from the dorm again, Henry could always sleep there.

Dawn broke the horizon. Henry and the boys stopped to admire the changing colours in the sky.

"I'm sorry I kept you up."

They shook their heads.

"It was fun," said Fred, "and it's not like we haven't done it before."

"Yeah. Just try and get some sleep every once in a while, okay? Otherwise we might fall off the brooms at Quidditch practice." They laughed at Henry's horrified expression.

"We're joking, sorry sorry."

She pouted. "That's mean! You could actually die if you fall off them."

They sheepishly apologised.

"But… Why and how do you find me every night? You could just ignore me."

Fred glanced at George. He returned the gaze and a silent conversation followed. Slowly, they turned back to her.

It was Fred that spoke. "We like you, you know. You remind us of both Ron and Ginny, our little sister."

"So I guess you're like a little sister too," continued George. "It's like… I don't know, we worry about you, especially when we find you roaming Hogwarts every night."

"Are you really alright? Is Slytherin treating you right?"

She smiled, but it wilted immediately. She had no energy to pretend to be happy. "Most of them, yes. Draco holds a lot of influence. They don't want to risk the wrath of his father, so they don't do anything to me."

The scheming look that passed over Fred and George could only mean the snakes had just doomed themselves to an epic prank.

"Thank you for caring for me. I appreciate it."

"Of course!" they said in unison. Fred added, "You're our friend, Henry, and that means we take care of each other."

"I haven't cared for you yet," she pointed out.

George waved her words away. "A time will come, I'm sure. Until then, you might want to ask Madam Pomfrey for a Sleeping Potion or something."

She remembered how serene she'd felt after the Calming Draught. She'd rather have that one. "Good idea. I'll pay her a visit during lunch."


A/N: Now that I think about it, we're six chapters in and they've just started school. Did someone say slow-burn? Oopsie~