CHAPTER 7: Sleepless

Warning: Bullying.

The chest at the foot of her bed was wide open. Her things were strewn around and both her uniforms were missing.

Pansy walked out from the bathroom and smirked. "Had a boggart visit you?" she laughed.

Henry ignored her and began sorting her things. Her books had survived, as well as her equipment, but her clothes were damp—had Pansy thrown them into the bathroom sink?

"Let's go," said Pansy and exited the room. Daphne and Millicent gave Henry a pitiful look each and hurried after her.

Right before closing the door, Daphne whispered, "Aer Calidus. Wide circle and a straight line in the middle. Start at the bottom."

Henry blinked. Daphne had just helped her, hadn't she? Slowly, she took out her wand and performed the spell, wishing heat to emit from the wand to dry her clothes. It worked on the third try.

She missed breakfast. It took so long to dry the clothes that by the time she was done, everyone returned. They had Defence, so Henry grabbed her book and followed Draco and Blaise to the classroom. They didn't say anything about her being missing. She learned from Blaise why that was.

"Did you get a good night's rest?" he asked. "Pansy, Daphne and Millicent said you were still asleep when they left."

So that's what happened. Pansy lied so she wouldn't get in trouble. What a nasty girl. Henry had to step up her game and learn some new spells if she wanted to survive.

"No, it was fitful, I'm afraid."

Quirrell was back to his pathetic attempt at stammering. They finished the chapter on imps and moved on to ghosts. Since they had quite a few at Hogwarts, it was an interesting topic, but Quirrell made it hard to concentrate.

Then came the class she'd been waiting for. Potions. Finally she was about to learn it herself. She'd been reading up on it between homework and the other extra curricular stuff she researched with Harry. She wasn't a Mistress, but she was sure she knew at least enough to survive the first few lessons.

They had Potions with Gryffindor today. Draco and Blaise saw Hermione sitting alone and left Henry to sit with her. It had only been three days of school and they had already learned Henry was going to sit with the girl every joint class. She thanked them for being so understanding.

"What happened to you?" asked Hermione when she saw her.

"Good morning to you too," said Henry with a yawn. "Slept well?"

"Better than you. Honestly, you look sick. Are you alright?"

"Have been better. I have trouble falling asleep."

Hermione looked like she wanted to say something else, but at that moment, Snape opened the doors. It was the first time Henry got a good look at him since the introduction. His black hair was greasy, his tall form scrawny. He didn't look thirty, he looked older, with a sharp nose and yellow teeth she could see even from this distance. And of course, he wore his signature black clothes.

"You are to address me as Master or Professor Snape, anything else will lose you House points," he said, not bothering to greet them. "Potions is a craft. It's the only subject taught that you can legally try at home. Depending on your skills and willingness to learn, I can help you achieve the impossible. I can teach you how to brew death and bottle fame." He looked right at Henry, who blinked but didn't look away. "Now, let's start the lesson with something even toddlers can brew: the Cure for Boils."

He had the recipe written on the blackboard as well as the page number. Henry looked it up in the book. She needed six snake fangs, four horned slugs and two porcupine quills.

"Where's your flobberworm mucus?" asked Hermione. Henry had just come back from collecting her ingredients.

"What? Those aren't in the recipe."

"Um. They are." She pointed at the blackboard.

Henry double checked the book. Were there more than one recipe for the potion? And the one Snape had written had more ingredients—why? Confused, she held up her arm. He was by her side within moments.

"Yes, Miss Potter?"

"I was wondering, Professor, why the recipe you've written and the one in the book are different."

The students closest to them stopped what they were doing to look at them in bewilderment.

"There are two recipes," replied Snape. "One from your book and another from the Book of Potions. Decide on your own which one you'll use."

She blinked. That was it? No explanation as to why he showed them both? Why there were even two to begin with?

Arse.

"Let me gauge your knowledge, Miss Potter," Snape sneered and turned to face her again. "Where can you find a bezoar?"

It took a moment for Henry to recognise the question. "In a goat's stomach?"

"Sir."

"You don't have to call me sir, Professor." It was out before she could stop herself. While the class fought not to laugh and Snape debated whether or not deducting points from his own House was worth it or not, Henry silently apologised to Harry for stealing his comeback.

"Very funny, Miss Potter. One point from Slytherin. Now tell me, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"The name," she replied cheekily. "They're the same plant, Professor, also known as aconite." Even after eleven years, she remembered the answers without her textbook. She was proud of it too.

"Good answer. One point to Slytherin for your excellent answer. And one point from Slytherin for your attitude."

She could feel the incredulous stares of her Housemates on her. For the first time, she didn't care. Making fun of Snape was worth it.

"What, Miss Potter, would I get if I added a powder root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape snapped, his dark eyes flashing angrily.

"That's not first-year material, Professor." She clicked her tongue. Hermione dropped her jaw. "Is there a particular reason you ask a question even fourth-years have problems answering?"

Snape had the audacity to roll his eyes. "It seems fame has clouded your judgement, Miss Potter. One more point from Slytherin."

"Oh? For what, if I may ask?"

"For talking back to a teacher."

"You mean for asking a legitimate question." She nearly rolled her eyes herself this time. "Professor, if you have an infusion of wormwood and add the powder root of asphodel to it, you get the Draught of Living Death. It puts the drinker into such a heavy sleep there's a chance they won't wake up. This is a sixth-year N.E.W.T. level potion, sir, and not a question to ask a first-year witch with Muggle upbringing that's been here for four days." She glared at him. "Are you done? Will you stop harassing me now?"

"Detention," was his final answer. "See me at 10AM this Saturday, Miss Potter."

She was speaking to Dumbledore before that. No way she was taking his crap lying down. "As you wish, Professor. Can I return to my potion now?"

"That was stupid," said Hermione after Snape left. "Why did you do that? You lost your House three points!"

"Wrong. I lost us two points and got detention." She gave Hermione a big grin. "Now, let's make the most perfect samples of the Cure for Boils."


Henry excused herself during lunch. She needed to talk to Madam Pomfrey about the Calming Draught. Draco wasn't having any of it, though. He was aghast she was thinking of skipping lunch when she didn't have time to eat breakfast.

"You're going to faint at this rate," he warned her on their way from the dungeons. "And don't expect me to catch you!"

"It's fine, I'll grab something real quick when I come back. Promise."

His worries fell on deaf ears and she bid him, Blaise and Hermione goodbye. The trio stood there, left in the dust, and Draco cursed.

"She's mad. Granger, do we have more classes with you today?"

Hermione stared at him, surprised he knew her name. "No, we don't."

"Drat. I guess I have to smuggle her something, then." He caught Blaise's amused smirk. "Anything you want to say, Zabini?"

"No. Your loyalty is admirable."

"Shut up."

While they bickered, Henry quickly made her way to the Hospital Wing. It was calm this time of the day, and the beds gaped empty. She'd be worried if they were filled with students on the fourth day though.

"Hello," she greeted Madam Pomfrey, who was puffing the pillow on a bed. "Is it okay if I ask you something?"

"Of course, dear. What's your name?"

"Henrietta Potter, Madam."

"I see. Let's go to my office." The older witch gave her a kind smile and showed her into a room off the side. It led to a corridor with several other rooms, probably for storage.

The office was a square little room with stone flooring and bright walls. Madam Pomfrey had a desk and two chairs, one which she offered Henry.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Fred and George told me to ask for a Sleeping Draught."

The woman's eyebrows rose. "Why?"

Henry explained she couldn't sleep, and why that was. She was embarrassed, but Madam Pomfrey assured her it was nothing to be upset about.

"I remember your Sorting," the witch said while filling out some kind of form. "You had a panic attack then. Does that happen often?"

"More than I'd like," Henry muttered. Then she realised how bad that sounded. "No, uh… I get them every once in a while but, I'm not that bad, uh… I'm just gonna… gonna keep quiet… yeah…"

Madam Pomfrey patted her on the shoulder. When she noticed how stiff Henry went, she apologised. Quickly she wrote down her observation as well.

"How often do you get these attacks? It's fine if you don't know exactly, but please at least guess."

Henry cocked her head to the side, trying to count them all. "Around two or three times a month…? Depends on what happens, really." She bit her lip and began fidgeting with the end on her skirt. "Am I weird? For panicking so easily?"

"Nonsense. It's nothing unusual, and we can fix that with a healthy dose of the Calming Draught. I will prescribe you a vial and show you how to dosage it. The same for the Sleeping Draught, which you will also need. And Miss Potter, please stop wandering around school at night. It's dangerous and you will get in trouble if you're found out."

Henry gave her a sheepish smile. "Please don't tell the Professors. I'm in enough trouble with Snape as it is."

Madam Pomfrey wanted to ask what had happened, but figured the girl would have told her if it had anything to do with the Draughts she was prescribing.

"I promise, as long as you keep to your bed." Henry promised, and they went on to talk about the Draughts and what dose she should take for each and when. Henry left with a vial of both in her pocket and a note with instructions. She thanked the medi-witch a thousand times for her help.

Lunch ended just as she reached the Great Hall. Her stomach protested loudly. If she had known the way to the kitchen, she would have stopped by to ask the house-elves for a sandwich. A sandwich Draco now showed her discreetly.

"Thank you," she said in surprise. He dragged her away from prying eyes.

"You have thirty minutes," he said. "Let's go."


After History of Magic, Henry needed some time for herself. She promised Harry she'd see him before curfew to show him something secret (which made him very happy) and then trotted off to the Black Lake. It was chilly outside, a sign autumn neared, and the lake was as black as oil. She moved away from the castle where everyone could see her and walked by the shoreline until she came upon a mossy stump. She sat on it and smiled at the view of the castle.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in the crisp air. It filled her lungs and worked just as effectively as the Calming Draught.

A low bark caught her attention. Behind her sat Sirius, looking at her with solemn eyes. She hadn't expected to see him here. He must have apparated.

"Hello there, boy," she called gently and offered her hand. He happily wagged his tail and sniffed it. Then he licked her fingers. "I've missed you too. I hope you've been well." She hunched down to hug him. He pressed his snout against her throat.

Sitting on the ground, hugging Sirius like this, opened a floodgate of tears. She couldn't help but spill her guts to him. She told him how horrible things were, that the only upside was her nightly adventures with Fred and George, her three friends in Slytherin and seeing Harry once a day. Everything else hurt.

"And now I've been prescribed medicine to help me cope. After four days. How pathetic isn't that?" she sobbed. "I hope Harry has it easier than me. By Merlin's beard, please."

Sirius barked as gently as he could.

"Trying to cheer me up? Thank you." She bopped her nose to his. Then she stood. "Let's take a walk." He followed her to the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. She hadn't seen Daycrusher for days now. Meeting Sirius had reminded her of the snake and she felt obligated to check on it.

She would have paid good money to see Sirius' human reaction when she began speaking in Parseltongue. "Daycrusssher, can you hear me?"

"Yesss, ssspeaker," came the reply after a few minutes of silence. "Do you require my asssissstance?"

"No, jussst wanted to check in. How are you?"

Daycrusher was fine. The Forest was a nice place to live, with lots of food and places to hide. He glanced at Sirius. "And who isss thisss?"

"Sssiriusss, my godfather. He doesssn't know that I know."

"Then I'll keep it a sssecret."

"Thank you." She took a look at the poor man herself. His eyes were going between them. Probably he was surprised to learn she had such a Dark ability. Well, borrowed. "Daycrusssher, can I ask you to take a look at something?"

"Sssure."

"There'sss a three-headed Hellhound in the third floor corridor. It'sss guarding sssomething. Can you eavesssdrop on the teachersss?"

"For how long?"

"Let'sss sssay a week. And pleassse be careful."

"Of courssse, ssspeaker. Anything elssse?"

"No. I'll bring you a sssnack next time."

She returned to the castle. Sirius followed her to Hagrid's hut before disappearing. Hopefully he'd come back. Being with him calmed her down.


"What?" asked Harry an hour later. "Darn! I wanted to see him too."

"Sorry," Henry murmured. "Did you memorise all the spells?" She nodded at the Charms book in front of him. They were in the library.

The spells they needed to know were Wingardium Leviosa, Spongify, Incendio, Lumos and Nox, Alohomora and Colloportus, Flipendo, Diffindo, Reparo, the Ice Jinx and how to make a pineapple dance. Except for the last spell, they were all useful. A bit weak when fighting Voldemort, but a good start. They would work perfectly on Pansy though.

The sun was long gone by the time they learned Nox. Having cracked the code to spellcasting (i.e. focus and intent) didn't mean it was easy still. You had to control how much magic you put in the spell. They were thrown out of the library when Harry put too much force into Lumos and ended up blinding half the students—and Madam Pince.

Harry bid Henry goodbye after that. Unlike her, he didn't have class at midnight, and he was tired from a whole day of school.

"See you at lunch," he said with a hug.

The Weasley twins found her sitting in a corridor an hour later, reading about potions. Honestly, it was fascinating what magicfolk could do. There was the Aging and De-Aging Potions, Felix Felicis, Draught of Living Death, Amortentia, Veritaserum and many more she didn't know about.

"'Add two drops of Lethe River Water to your cauldron… Gently heat for twenty seconds… Add two Valerian sprigs to your cauldron… Stir three times, clockwise…"

"Is that for the Forgetfulness Potion?" asked Fred. He snuck a peek in her book and nodded thoughtfully. "Reading ahead, are we?"

"Of course. Snape loathes me, so might as well."

"Odd motivation, but sure," George grinned. "I take it your first lesson didn't end well?"

"Lost Slytherin two points and landed myself in detention."

"Fabulous." Henry grinned at Fred's upbeat tone.

"Whatcha doing here, then?" she asked. "Worried I've been sitting here for too long?" She looked at their pockets and hands. No sight of the Marauder's Map.

Apparently they were on their way for a late night snack. Since she was tired and hungry, she joined them. On their way to the kitchen, she made sure to memorise the way in case she needed it.

"Did you talk to Madam Pomfrey?" asked Fred.

"Yeah, got the Sleeping Draught and Calming Draught prescribed. I feel a bit like a psycho, but I need them, so I'm not saying no." A vague memory of antidepressants floated around in her mind before sinking back into darkness. Maybe she'd always had these troubles? Hopefully the potions worked just like Muggle medicine.

"There's nothing wrong with needing help," George stated, no longer smiling. "I've read up on it, actually."

Fred grinned like a smug cat. "You wouldn't believe how many books on Muggle psychology he's devoured today. I didn't know he could read that fast."

"Excuse you." George looked genuinely offended at that. "I was worried about our beloved snakelet, how dare you insult me?"

Fred and Henry had a good laugh at his expense.

"Hey, I'm serious! There's nothing wrong with needing medicine." He looked at Henry. "People are different and their brains aren't always the same. So take the Draughts and go to sleep."

She took a good look at them then. Their dark circles looked just like hers, meaning they got about as much sleep as her—none.

"I'm sorry. You should stop running after me…"

Fred gave her a hard look. "No way. You're stuck with us now."

"Thanks."

"So, why are you up so late? And sitting here of all places." They laughed heartily after hearing the story of Madam Pince shouting curses as they fled the library.

"That's brilliant," said Fred. "Merlin would be proud."

"Not so sure about that," laughed Henry.

"Oh! By the way, we're going to Hogsmead soon. Do you want anything?" George's grin covered half his face. "Have you ever heard of it?"

"From a couple older students," she lied. "They said something about lots of candy."

"Ha, you could say that again. Honeydukes is famous for its assortment of sweets. Anything in particular you're interested in?"

She didn't remember a lot of their products. She was collecting the Chocolate Frog cards and as such wanted them, but other than that, her memory betrayed her.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

She looked at him. "What?" He was going to buy her something? "You don't have to waste money on me, George."

"Bah, why not? We're friends."

"Yeah, but… I can't buy you anything."

He ruffled her hair without thinking. She decided not to correct him this time. "See it as an early Christmas present."

"Or late birthday," Fred added.

"You're weird." Henry laughed quietly. "But you've raised my mood, so thanks."

"Of course. Wanna learn a useful spell?" Fred sat cross-legged in front of her. "Ever heard of Ebublio?" She shook her head. "Good! It traps the target in a bubble they can't break." He showed her the movement, a lowercase e. They had her practice it until she got it completely right.

"Ebublio," she said, imagining encasing Fred in a giant bubble. Nothing happened. "Again. Ebublio." A tiny blue spark shot out from the wand. "Ebublio!"

Fred yelped as he got stuck in the bubble.

"Uh. What's the counterspell…?"

"Drat." George pulled out his own wand. "Ruptis." Henry watched as he moved the wand into a lowercase r. The bubble burst without ceremony.

"You got another one?" Henry asked excitedly.

Seeing the joy it brought her, they taught her Engorgio and Reducio as well. When she asked for a healing spell, they showed her Episkey.

"I have to go now," she said as the clock neared midnight. "I have Astronomy soon."

"We'll walk you," Fred offered.

Astronomy was more calming than she had imagined. Watching star signs and reading up on their symbolic meaning, their arrangements and whatnot proved far more entertaining than anything else she had encountered. Watching stars had always been a hobby of hers. They were so far away, the lights illuminating the world even before magic and fire were harnessed.

She returned to bed at 1:30AM, wishing for at least one night's good rest. The door, when she pulled it, didn't budge. Blinking, she tried again.

"Pansy? Are you kidding me?" she called. "Let me in!"

"Why are you making a ruckus in the middle of the night?" came Pansy's angry reply. "Leave me alone!"

"This is my room as much as yours, bitch! Alohomora." The door opened and Henry gave Pansy a mean glare. "You're so pathetic."

"Says the girl trying to steal Draco away!"

"What?" Steal who? From who? Her? "Why can't I be friends with him? He approached me first!"

"Because you're filthy. You hang around that Mudblood Ginger or whatever."

"Hermione Granger, and don't call her that. She's ten times better than you. That blood of yours doesn't do shite."

Pansy gasped. "You… you filthy daughter of a Mudblood!"

Don't do it don't do it don't do it. She wasn't about to hurt her. She wasn't about to lose her House more points. She wasn't about to lower herself to Pansy's level. She was better than her. Better than all of them.

"At least my mother had common sense."

"Get out!" Pansy shrieked. "Or I'll make you, you cow!"

"Who's the cow?" Henry muttered loud enough for Pansy to hear. She gathered her pajamas and toiletries. "Fuck off." She closed the door hard enough to make it rattle.

Only a handful of students were left in the common room, all seeing her mad dash for the exit. They didn't stop her, but one called out to make sure she didn't get caught and lose them points.

Sod off, she wanted to hiss, but refrained. There was no reason to take her anger out on them.

She made her way to Harry's common room. The door handed her a riddle:

Only one colour, but not one size,

Stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies.

Present in the sun, but not in rain,

Doing no harm, and feeling no pain.

What is it?

She spent a few minutes figuring it out, going through the hints in her brain and settled for "shadow" (which was correct) and hurried through the entrance. The room was dark and empty, thank Merlin for that.

"Alohomora," she whispered and opened the door to Harry's dorm. "Harry, wake up."

"I am," he muttered sleepily. "Can't sleep?"

"Almost. Come here."

He made sure the others were asleep before tiptoeing after her to the common room. He nearly went to Dumbledore after hearing what Pansy did.

"Forget about her, I'll take care of it in due time," Henry assured him. "Rather, you remember I said I wanted to show you something this Saturday?"

"Yeah. You were really excited."

"Exactly. Well, we're going now. Get your things."

"My— My things? What things?"

"A change of clothes and your toiletries."

For a moment, Harry thought she'd gone mad. Then he remembered it was Henry he was dealing with and sighed in defeat. It only took him five minutes to gather what he needed before he followed her to the seventh floor. His trust in her sanity was again put on test when she began walking back and forth three times.

"Henry, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey has a—"

A door slowly appeared on the wall.

"What the bloody hell?"

Henry grinned at him. "I'm perfectly fine, dear brother. I took my Calming Draught on the way here. And Madam Pomfrey has already prescribed me medicine to cope."

"Cope?" He nearly shrieked the word. Henry didn't answer and opened the big, carved doors instead. Inside was a huge bedroom, with another door to the left. It was a bathroom. "Henry, what do you mean cope?"

"Oh, nothing important, I just think I'm depressed or have anxiety or something. That's why I get all those panic attacks. Or I might have a diagnosis, I dunno. Whatever it is, I've got the Calming Draught and the Sleeping Draught for it. But I don't need that now that we have this room."

Harry's mind reeled with all this new information. He was hurt she hadn't told him about the potions before, or that she'd asked for help. Had she slept at all these last nights? He had slept, though it was a miracle. His sleep had been fitful and he'd woken about a dozen times a night, but at least he could.

"Oh, Henry. Why didn't you tell me?" He hugged her from behind. "Please. Please tell me next time. I can help you, you know that."

She shrank a bit. "I know. It's just… I dunno, I forget."

Was he really that unreliable? So unreliable she didn't even consider asking him?

"Of course not," she scoffed. Harry was the only good constant in her life. He kept her grounded in reality. He was the reason she woke up and endured Pansy's harassment.

"Thanks, but your actions tell a different story."

"Then I'll… I'll be better. I'll try to… to ask for help. To tell you more about… about everything."

He was making sure she kept her word this time. "Good. Now, where are we?"

"The Room of Requirement." She quickly explained what it was and how it worked. "And before you ask—yes it's from my dreams."

"I still haven't forgotten those books you mentioned. Are they, like, prophetic?"

She grimaced. Of all the times to bring that up, two in the morning was not the right one. "Can we talk about that some other time? I really wanna go to sleep."

But Harry wasn't interested in that. He'd waited all his life for an explanation that wasn't "I just know" or "I have dreams".

Henry hesitated. This was something even more unbelievable than magic and dragons. This was earth-shattering. He might actually think her mad if she told him, and then what? She'd lose him forever. She couldn't let that happen. He was her anchor, the reason she hadn't gone mad years ago. If he left her now… those Draughts wouldn't be able to help her.

"Henry. Henry, do you really believe it will be weirder than literal magic? We can brew death. There are ghosts. You're a shapeshifter! What can be weirder than that?"

She bit her lip. Was it now or never? Would he hate her if she rejected him? If she kept quiet? Probably. But he'd get over it. She hoped.

She was about to say "nothing", she really was. Then she saw his eyes, how they begged her to let him in, and she caved.

"They're memories," she whispered. Her heart jerked and she sat down on the bed. Harry was quick to put his arms around her.

"Memories?" he coaxed. "How?"

"I… I have memories of a past life. Or something." She meant to laugh in defeat. A sob escaped instead. "I don't remember much of it anymore, just bits and pieces. It's been eleven years after all." She sobbed again. Harry's arms tightened around her.

"Take a deep breath." She did.

"I remember there was a book series I loved. It was called Harry Potter and written in the 90s. They followed a boy that learned he was a wizard. He was taken to a school for magical people. While there, he learned about magic, himself and that the megalomaniac that killed his parents was out to kill him."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. She was reborn? That was fine. They had magic and ghosts and stuff—reincarnation wasn't an impossibility. But the books? That was weird. Scary, even. Did that mean she came from another universe? Was she really his sister?

"So… so you've been using these books to help… me?" he asked carefully. She nodded. A bitter laugh escaped.

"Mad, isn't it? I, a Muggle in a world where magic probably didn't exist, was reborn as the sister of the hero I admired as a child. Impossible, right?" She pursed her lips, waiting for him to scorn her.

"Are you sure about that?" She looked at him in surprise. He gave a small smile. "I mean, we're magical. Snape said we can bottle fame. For God's sake, there's a Sleeping Beauty potion. Reincarnation probably isn't impossible. I mean, you did it, of course it isn't." He hesitated. "Have you ever seen me as your brother?"

"What? Of course! You're my only family." She kept babbling about how hard it had been to accept her new surroundings, how he had kept her alive, and Harry knew she loved him like she loved her previous family.

"Wait a moment," he said, interrupting her monologue. "You said you weren't sure if it was a past life, right? What'd you mean by that?"

It was hard to explain, but the fact was she didn't know if she'd died or not. One day she had simply woken up in the crib beside him, just in time to see Lily die.

"So, you think this is a dream?"

"I did at first. But now eleven years have passed and I'm sure I was in fact taken to another dimension." It wasn't the right time to tell him about her theories. He had enough dealing with this.

"Honestly, magic." He shook his head. "Alright, walk me through it: does your knowledge have to do with your constant panic attacks?"

"Probably," she admitted. She explained the plot of the first book, how Voldemort took possession of a teacher to get a hold of the Philosopher's Stone, but ultimately failed because Harry got to it first.

"And where were all the teachers?"

"Well… They didn't know until after you got rid of Voldemort," she said sheepishly. "They kind of didn't believe you."

"Alright," Harry sighed, "Who's the teacher I have to look out for?"

"Quirrell."

He burst out laughing. "What? That stuttering Defence teacher?" He stopped laughing when she didn't partake. "You're serious."

"Yeah. His stammering is subpar at best. Fred, George and I stumbled upon him last night or something and he wasn't doing it then. It's all an act."
"Bloody hell. What do we do?"

"My initial plan was to take the Stone before he got to it."

"And when's that?" He face-palmed when she said she didn't remember.

"It's been like thirteen years since I finished the series last, Harry. I know very well I'm lacking."

"No, you're right, and I'm not holding it against you, I'm just… really not in the mood to be a hero."

She smirked. "You're nothing like your book counterpart. Well, the sass is the same, I guess, but he was Sorted into Gryffindor."

"Ha, what? He was?" Harry couldn't imagine himself there. They were too loud, too energetic. He liked the Weasley twins enough, they always greeted him whenever they saw him, but that was about it.

"And Ron Weasley was his best friend, Hermione too… and he was enemies with Draco."

"Hold your horses—really?" She nodded. "Wow, that's… I can't even imagine."

"Let's just say I saved us a lot of grief by taking precautions first." They laughed at that. "Thanks, for not saying I'm crazy."

He hugged her again. "Of course not. You're my sister, my only family. I love you to the moon and back. And it's kind of exciting, all this prophecy stuff. Tiring, but exciting. I'll go read up on it tomorrow afternoon."

"Thanks."

"Again, I'm your brother. I'll help you sort this out. But Henry… I'm really not a hero."

She grinned. Her Harry and Rowling's Harry weren't the same, but in all honesty, she liked hers better. So what if he wasn't the hero Dumbledore wanted? Together, they could still fix this and live.


A/N: Honestly, I can't relate to Henry here. I can't not fall asleep. I'm dead tired all the time, and if it wasn't for the fact I literally cannot fall asleep in broad daylight (or any light at all), I fear I would sleep standing...