Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.

Chapter Five | Blonds, Battles, & Charms

Waking up in the Ravenclaw tower has got to be one of the most picturesque experiences of my entire life. When I thought the view from my new bedroom would be magnificent my imagination didn't even come close to doing it justice. While the Gryffindor common room has a lovely view of the grounds and quidditch pitch, the view from the Ravenclaw tower looks more like a nature tours advertisement brochure.

A little bit of everything is caught in that picture, dead centre is the great expanse of the lake stretching off into the distance, mountains peeking up behind it like Gaia's castle walls. The forbidden forest lays to the right, giving the whole scene a very 'Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains' vibe. Yeah, screw Gryffindor, Ravenclaw is where it's at.

After a quick shower I nip down to the Great Hall for breakfast and plant myself next to Hermione. She looks up and smiles a bit once she recognizes me. She's looking a bit peaky though. Slightly prominent bags under her eyes, a mild pallor to her skin. I'm going to try and remedy that.

"Hey Hermione! How did you sleep last night?" Scraping some eggs onto my plate, I smile cheerily as I subtly interrogate her.

"I slept alright," She replies, blushing and going back to her toast. "I just had a bit of a hard time getting to sleep. This is all so… crazy, isn't it? Not that it's bad!" She adds fervently, putting her hands up in mild surrender. "I just never imagined I would be going to boarding school, let alone a magical one."

I nod my head sagely, placing a finger on my cheek as I comfort her. "Yeah I completely understand what you mean. I may not seem like it, but this is a whole new world to me as well," I confide, her eyebrows rising at that. "I was raised with my muggle cousins for the last ten years, I honestly didn't even know about the wizarding world until about a week ago. I'm just really good at faking it!" I laugh, poking her in the ribs and earning a shy giggle in response.

Hermione playfully slaps me on the arm in return, grinning all the while. "Well I'm glad we're both new at this together!"

"Yep! I'm happy I've already found a friend here!" I reply, watching Hermione's eyes shine at that simple statement. A little bit of me breaks when I see that. My old friend looking so surprised, awed that someone would want to be her friend.

"Me too," she whispers sheepishly, picking at her food.

"Five points to Ravenclaw Miss Potter for helping a new student."

I immediately recognize the distinctive chirp of Professor Flitwick. I twist around to see him, startled as he nonchalantly hands over two pieces of parchment to us. "Here are your course schedules, and I would like to remind you two that I expect the best from you and all my other Ravens! I'd like to see Exceeds Expectations at the lowest." . Looks like Flitwick takes the brainy reputation of Ravenclaw quite seriously. "But, I have faith you two will do the house proud."

I have to give it to him, that's a great way to motivate your new students. Pushy, yet comforting.

Hermione nods her head furiously, causing me to smirk at her unintentionally fantastic Dobby impression. "Absolutely Professor! I wouldn't dream of getting a lower grade!" She excitedly declares, the little academic solider that she is. The only thing that would complete this picture would be the two of them saluting one another before Flitwick leaves. I take this chance to do just that.

Snapping off an RAF salute that would make the Queen proud, I grin cheekily at Flitwick. "We will do the house proud, Sir. You have our word."

Chuckling to himself he salutes me back, crying out in his squeaky little voice, "At ease soldier! You do the Claws proud!" Chuckling at my antics, he continues with his task of handing out the class schedules, cheerily greeting the rest of the now thoroughly entertained Ravenclaws.

"Why hello Miss Potter, I don't believe we've been introduced yet."

Oh, for fucks sake. That better not be who I think it is. I slowly turn around, praying that I'm not about to deal with Draco Malfoy before noon. Of course, life is never so easy. I sigh in resignation as I lock eyes on the blond wonder.

"No, I don't believe we have," I demur, not even bothering to shake his currently extended hand. That should send a message his way, although I doubt he'll recognize it. Even if he does, he's not the type to listen.

He awkwardly pulls his hand away, hastily tucking it inside his robe as he tries to figure out how to approach me. His face screws up a bit in thought before he begins a very nostalgic spiel. "My name is Draco Malfoy, you'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others Miss Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort," he simpers, inclining his head with as much subtlety as a drunken toddler towards Hermione.

"Ah, I was afraid you were one of those types," I frigidly reply, placing my hand protectively on Hermione's shoulder. She knows that Malfoy has said something derogatory about her, but she still looks at me in confusion, most of the conversation completely going over her head. "See, I'd much rather spend time with the lovely Miss Granger here than with someone whose whole claim to fame is that their ex-Death Eater Daddy is disgustingly rich."

Draco's face devolves from patient anticipation to undisguised fury, his upper lip curling into a familiar sneer, followed by his rebuttal of, "Well I never!"

"Please, leave me and my friend alone," I state, my voice tense and strained as I try not to say anything too rude. I mean, the kid is eleven for Gods sake. He pisses me off like it's his life's calling, but it not like he knows any better. "I'm not interested in being your friend, but I'm not interested in being your enemy either. I ignore you, you ignore me, alright?" I turn back to my meal, squeezing Hermione's shoulder comfortingly and whispering, "I'll explain what he was so rudely saying later, just ignore him," in her hear.

Just as I move to take a bite of the scrambled eggs that I have been lusting for since I dragged myself out of bed this morning, I feel a violent tug on my shoulder, a small hand roughly pulling me off of my seat and onto the ground. "How dare you," Malfoy growls, the statement much less intimidating than I would have once found it at this age.

I pull myself up to my feet, cursing under my breath at the level of entitlement the little shit has. What kind of person thinks that that's anything close to acceptable behaviour? "Look, piss off now and we can forget this ever happened, alright?" I spit, staring him in the eyes and begging him to simply leave. I don't want to put up with this stupid rivalry again.

Draco bites his lip in thought, before sticking out his jaw and drawing his wand, aggressively pointing it at my throat. I react instantly, smacking the wand away and striking him in the stomach, causing him to double over and empty his lungs with a shuddering hiss. He falls over to the ground dramatically, whimpering loudly and muttering something about half-bloods and temperamental redheads.

There's a rough stomping of feet behind me, announcing the entrance of whichever concerned professors have decided to intervene. "What in Merlin's name is going on here?" A familiar drawl demands. I stare in undisguised shock as Snape looks down at Malfoy with derision, sporting his patented scowl. That's just… wow. I never thought I'd see the day.

Flitwick clears his throat, beckoning for my attention. "I would like to know as well, Miss Potter, I would be extremely ashamed to find that you instigated this."

"Mr. Malfoy here insulted my friend's heritage before sticking his wand in my face," I explain, gritting my teeth at the sheer stupidity of someone, particularly someone who really should know better, pointing a weapon at another's face. "Considering we're first years and our magic is unpredictable, I felt the need to respond with force."

"Twenty points from Slytherin and detention tonight Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick snaps, turning his gaze towards Snape, expecting an argument.

"I couldn't agree more Filius," Snape sneers, much to my and Flitwick's surprise. Again, I never thought I'd see the day. "I'll take care of the detention, I'm sure my godson will understand the severity of his actions when I'm through with him."

Holy fuck. Did Severus goddamn Snape just assign Draco Malfoy detention?

I've never been so glad to have died. Death never told me that this would be so cathartic! Maybe this time Malfoy will get it and just leave me alone. It's a pipe dream, but it's my pipe dream, damn it.

"Miss Potter I'm sorry to have rushed to conclusions, are you alright?" Flitwick sighs, looking a smidge dejected due to his snap decision. "You're the spitting image of your mother and she was quite the fireball back in her day, when I saw Mister Malfoy on the ground I expected the worst. Are you hurt in any way?" I have to prevent myself from smiling winningly at his explanation. The fastest way to my heart is to tell me something new about my parents.

"It's alright Professor, I'm fine, just a little frustrated. You don't need to apologize as well. You were just doing your job. If it was me on the ground and Malfoy standing over me I'd expect you to act the exact same."

"I'm glad you understand, I'm happy to see that you inherited the more righteous aspect of your mother's temper, just make sure to send it in the right direction."

Rubbing at my shoulder I sit back down and dig back into my meal, oblivious to the stares around me. A tapping on my arm makes me turn to Hermione, who's eyeing me curiously now. "What was that all about? The right people? The wrong sort? What did he mean? Was he talking about me?" She asks, firing off a thousand questions at once.

I raise my hand, asking her to stop so that I can explain. She puckers her lips, doing her best to halt her nervous interrogation. "Draco is… from an old family. They have this idea that since they can trace their family back for hundreds of years they're better than anyone who can't. To be more specific, they look down on witches and wizards like you, muggleborn or muggle-raised who are completely new to the wizarding world," I explain, raising a single finger to stop her from starting another line of questioning. "Trust me, I don't share those bigoted opinions and I never will. My mother was muggleborn, and I'm muggle-raised. To be honest, most people don't share those opinions either," I add, a slight bit of relief washing over her features. "Unfortunately, the ones who do are quite vocal about it."

Hermione nods faintly, chewing her cheek nervously. "So… they're like racists, aren't they? They hate people because of something they can't control."

"Yeah, in a nut shell," I reply, lifting my head back up and peering around the table I frown. Damn it all. Everyone is still staring at me and a couple of people sitting nearby are trying to shuffle away inconspicuously.

"Oh, for God's sake, I'm not about to fight any of you too," I growl in exasperation, shaking my head at the fearful looks.

Padma Patil, surprisingly enough, reaches across the table and pats me on the hand. "It's alright Helene, I think people are just shocked to see such a thing so early in the morning. I didn't know that Hogwarts offers a show with breakfast," she giggles. Poking her seatmate with her elbow and nodding in my direction. "Say sorry, Lisa."

Lisa bashfully apologizes, muttering something about 'scary red heads.' I guess I just pulled off a display of ginger rage that would make Molly Weasley envious. Shuddering at the idea of an angry Molly I thank Lisa and apologize to her in return for being downright terrifying.

"By the way, my name is Padma Patil. It's nice to finally meet you Helene." She smiles, offering her hand.

I give her hand a quick shake and offer mine to Lisa, who responds the same.

"I'm really sorry about all that. I guess that's a hell of a way to make an impression on my first day."

"You have no idea."

"I think I do," I respond as I notice Dumbledore looming over me, a genial smile on his face and his eyes twinkling merrily. Does he do that eye thing on purpose? That has to be a cantrip of some sort.

"Miss Potter, would you be able to have a word with me before lunch in my office? Just ask your Professor to take you there after class. I believe you have charms with Filius that block," he says, wandering out of the Great Hall, sparkling lilac robes swishing behind him.

-::-

Classes pass by quickly, although they are mind-numbingly boring considering I learned the syllabus four years ago. I do have to deal with the usual stares and whispers during the day, but I've been used to that for a long time. I really can't catch a break, can I?

The shining moment of my morning is potions going off without a hitch. No interrogations, no harassment, and best of all, no Slytherins. The Slytherins are delegated to the Gryffindor class, leaving ours paired up with the Hufflepuffs, making the working environment much more conducive to a healthy education. Funnily enough, Snape didn't loom over me as well. In fact, he kept his distance and watched me complete a perfect hiccoughing potion in our lecture, proudly marking it with an O before sending me off to my next class. The world is a strange and wonderful place. I don't think I'm ever going to like the man, but I do feel a little bit bad about carrying on the name Snivellus. Just a little bit.

After charms, Flitwick escorts me to Dumbledore's office, chirping out the password and leaving me to climb up the spiral staircase. I watch as the massive gargoyle jumps aside, walking past it and taking the magical escalator up towards the Headmasters office. I feel my stomach knot uncomfortably, anxiety plaguing my mind as I prepare myself for a conversation with a man that I once idolized and have now relegated to the category of 'untrustworthy and highly dangerous.'

I hear Dumbledore speak from the other side of the door before I even have a chance to knock.

"Please, come in."

I open it up and enter into his office. The place looks identical to the last time I was here, apart from the Sword of Gryffindor being mounted above the sorting hat. I don't know why I expected it to look any differently since I went back in time, but I did all the same.

"Take a seat Miss Potter, please," Dumbledore says, conjuring a very comfy looking armchair in front of his desk. I stop myself from raising one eyebrow questioningly, wondering why Dumbledore has begun this conversation with a show of power. Well, if I was mentally eleven, I would have found that to be quite impressive. I sink into my seat, cordially rejecting Dumbledore's offer of sweets before he cuts to the chase.

"So, how are you enjoying Hogwarts so far my dear? I hope that you're enjoying your classes," he begins, smiling at me from underneath his bushy mustache.

"It's… fantastic. I love it here," I gush excitedly, completely genuine as I proclaim my love of Hogwarts. "I think I enjoy charms with Professor Flitwick the most, and potions was really interesting."

Dumbledore raises his eyebrows in surprise at my statement, obviously perplexed that I would find potions of all classes interesting. Looks like he assumed that Snape would be treating me terribly. Really Dumbledore? You expected the man to treat me spitefully?

He steeples his fingers, his friendly demeanor harshening ever so slightly, an attempt to get me to spill my mind like the scared eleven-year-old he expects me to be. "Forgive me for bringing this up, but I am curious to find that you are Helene Potter, and not Harry Potter." His thick eyebrows pull into a small frown. "In fact, I believe most of the wizarding world will find themselves curious. Could you tell me anything about that?"

"Well, I've always been a girl?" I hesitate, putting on the mask of a perplexed child. "I don't know why everyone thinks I'm a boy or was supposed to be a boy. I've always been Helene." I shrug emphatically as I throw up my occlumency shields, tense and prepared for the worst-case scenario in the event that he attempts to invade my mind.

Dumbledore's frown deepens, unsure of how to take my reply. He licks his lips, before drumming his fingers over the top of his desk for a few moments. "I guess it was all a big misunderstanding," he reasons, his frown quickly morphing into a forced smile. "I've heard you're quite the eager student, and talented to boot."

"Oh, no. I'm sure I've just been lucky," I say, downplaying my knowledge. "I'm sure you heard that from Professor McGonagall after I managed to transfigure the matchstick. I think it was just a fluke."

"Really? You shouldn't be so humble my dear, although that's very good to hear that you hold your Professors to such high esteem Miss Potter." He reaches across his desk and shuffles a stack of parchment, drawing out a quill and sucking on the end before delicately placing it in an inkpot. "Don't let an old man like me take up all of your time, I believe there's a large lunch waiting for you downstairs," he says, nodding towards the door, telling me in a very polite manner to jog on.

I pop out of my seat and head out, practically running to the great hall and stifling a nervous laugh. I can't believe I managed to get out of that! I felt so anxious I was afraid I was going to be sick then and there!

I pause on my way to the Great Hall, stopping to take a breather and settle my nerves, resting near one of the many suits of armour in the castle. I grit my teeth, my insides twisting in mild anguish as I fully realize that Dumbledore wasn't the man I thought he was, and never will be. I can't believe he tried to wheedle such personal information out of me, especially after he was the one to trap me in that body. Did Death transport me into some bizarre world instead of my own? Is that the real Dumbledore?

I shake my head awkwardly, trying not to look like a maniac and mutter to myself as I head to lunch, wishing that my impressions of Dumbledore are wrong. Wishing that he's not the seemingly Machiavellian liar that I was just subtly interrogated by.

-::-

The weeks steadily breeze by, most notably with Daphne helping me open up a line of contact with her father Octavius, as promised. I quickly hired him as my solicitor after mentioning his place as my potential guardian, along with glossing over my treatment at the Dursleys. From what I can tell that threw him through a loop, as the next letter I received was scrawled quite hastily and far less professionally than the previous ones.

Miss Potter

I am quite displeased to hear about the treatment you received by the Guardians you were placed with so many years ago, as me and my wife have always been quite curious regarding your whereabouts. My wife Terra was a steadfast friend of your Mother and Father, while I was well acquainted with the two of them from Hogwarts. We were under the impression that you would become our ward in the case of the unimaginable.

I will be making inquiries into the ministry as to your cousins and treatment forthwith and am offering you an invitation to spend the winter holidays in my family's home. I understand that this may be considered a step out of bounds as your solicitor, but due to the circumstances I'm sure any comments or worries towards my professionalism will be quashed immediately.

I will do as you have asked and make sure that others do not go poking their noses into my investigation, specifically those involved with your placement on that fateful night.

Sincerely

Octavius Greengrass

Yeah, that's less professional than his previous letters. Bloody lawyers, bunch of hard asses they are. Anyways, school has been going swimmingly for the past month and a bit, the only wave on the horizon being tonight's Halloween feast, but I've made sure Hermione has a good group of friends and will hopefully not go running off to the bathrooms this time around. I'd really prefer not to fight a troll a month after my rebirth. Although, it would be good practice if I could tackle it without anyone being around to see it.

Speaking of Hermione, she's been an even better friend in this timeline! It's amazing how much she's thriving with the rest of the Claws. Our peers in the house very quickly pulled her aside after the first day of classes and explained what could result of her behaviour in class, specifically her burgeoning need to answer any and all questions posed by the Professors. She was instantly mollified when she understood that the teachers were asking questions so that students who didn't know the answer could try and work it out themselves. I wish I tried that one on her before, considering it worked better than a confundus charm.

The Halloween feast itself goes by just about the same, a fainting Quirrel, Dumbledore sending the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs back to their dormitories located in the dungeons, even Quirrel just announced that the troll is already there. I'm just absolutely mystified how I'm only now seeing the man for what he truly is. How did I not notice his behaviour before?

Unfortunately, Ron found himself in the bathroom this time, as his incredible lack of social skills (even worse than most other eleven-year-olds) landed him between a troll and a hard place. Apparently, he had insulted Lavender Brown for practicing with makeup and was met with a healthy dose of slaps from her and Pavarti. I like Ron, really, but he is a complete and utter prat. I hope he grows out of that, or his brothers manage to get his arse in line.

So, because of Ron having a spat with the two Gryffindor girls, I'm now finding myself toe to toe with a mountain troll. Again.

I barge into the boy's loo, following the putrid stench of the troll like a bloodhound. I spot the vaguely humanoid creature bellowing in Ron's direction, viscous strings of spit flying from its rotten mouth. I nearly snap off a blasting hex at the troll's head, stopping myself quickly as I realize that I would give myself away much too soon if I did just that.

I think as quickly as I can, wondering what spell to use to dispatch the troll before settling on an old favourite. "Wingardium Leviosa!" I shout, snatching the club from the troll's meaty grip and slamming it into its forehead a few times, quickly knocking it out and causing it to careen into the bathroom wall, taking a good amount of porcelain fixtures with it on its journey. Streams of water begin gushing out of the walls, the floor slowly beginning to pool with the clear liquid.

I march through the growing puddles towards Ron, bending down on one knee and checking him for any injuries. I smile reassuringly when I see that he's clean, extending my hand towards him. "Bloody hell mate! Where'd you learn how to do that!?" Ron chokes out as he grabs my hand. I yank him off of the ground, helping him to his feet.

"Charms class, you Gryffies are on the same schedule as us, aren't you?"

"Yeah I guess. Bloody hell though. You just took out a troll!" He mutters in astonishment, staring dumbly at the slow rise and fall of the unconscious beast's chest. He stumbles towards it, poking the rough, gnarled skin tentatively with his wand, cursing quite fluently under his breath.

"It seems I did," I respond, surveying my handiwork. Much cleaner than last round. No troll snot, nor torn robes. Apart from the environmental damage, I think I did alright. The real difference is the newfound control over my magic. The changes have been incredible, considering I would have had difficulty defeating that in fifth year, let alone how I somehow managed to in my first. Must have been obscenely good luck.

Clattering echoing from the halls and perfectly synchronized gasps alert me to the flood of teachers now standing outside the washroom. "What on earth happened here?" McGonagall explodes, rushing over to me and Ron and casting a flurry of diagnostic spells, sighing in relief when she realizes we're both unhurt.

"Well, apparently a troll happened," I respond, pointing at my partner in crime. "Ron here got trapped by the troll and I did the first thing I could think of and levitated the trolls club into its face."

"Fifty points to Ravenclaw for quick thinking and stellar use of a simple charm Miss Potter," Flitwick squeaks nervously, taking me gently by the arm and leading me out of the washroom.

The other Professors are looking on dumbly at the warzone, gaping incredulously at the unconscious troll. Quirrel has yet again slumped into the corner, faking catalepsy. I hold back a sneer, watching as Dumbledore quickly collects himself and waves his wand about, restoring the room to its previous condition before patting me on the back and proclaiming, "Fantastic charms work Miss Potter, you take after your mother."

"Thank you, Headmaster, I just cast the first spell I thought of."

"Nonsense, I would have been hard pressed to do better myself."

Even Snape looks impressed at the scene in front of him, wide eyed, he nods at me respectfully before leaving to check on his snakes. Eugh, that's not the best way to phrase that. Snape and his snakes? Sounds like the name of a cheap porno.

Flitwick quickly escorts me back to Ravenclaw tower before heading back to his rooms with a quick statement of, "If you are ever interested in charms tutoring please let me know, I'd be happy to show you the ropes outside of class."

I beam at that. Learning charms first-hand from a former dueling champion? People would kill, or at least main to be tutored by Flitwick.

As I make it back to the common room, I toss myself onto one of the love seats, basking in the warmth of the dormitories roaring fire before Hedwig swoops into the room. She settles carefully on my shoulder, crooning quietly as she rests her head on mine.

"Have you got a letter for me love? Let's see what Mister Greengrass has to say about my latest message," I muse aloud, running my fingers over Hedwig's soft feathers, absentmindedly handing her a treat. Unfurling the parchment, I scan it quickly, an even bigger smile creeping over my face with every word.

Miss Potter

I'm extraordinarily surprised to hear that Sirius Black has never received a trial for his betrayal of your parent's and the consequent murders that occurred when he fled. I understand that you would like to personally see justice done, and I will be opening an inquiry into the DMLE regarding the trial of Sirius Black. Hopefully he gets his just desserts and a trial may shed some light on the happenings of that terrible evening.

I will be in touch.

Octavius Greengrass

"Yes!" I whoop, punching a fist into the air and scaring the hell out of everyone in the common room.

"Helene what's got you so excited?" Hermione asks, appearing out of nowhere. "Did something happen?

"Sort of? It's a bit personal," I deflect. "Sorry, I'm just unsure how to talk about it."

Slumping into the seat next to me, Hermione continues, "So what's got your attention tonight? Is it a letter from a boy?" She blushes awkwardly, embarrassed that she would even make an attempt to have such a stereotypically 'girly' conversation.

"Oh god no. I'm too young to even think about that." Not to mention much too young physically to even approach someone who would be interested in dating. If I'm even going to consider dating, I'm going to wait until I'm old enough, as well as only see someone who's in the upper years, preferably seventh. "No, I'm much too young. Not to mention, I'm not really interested in boys anyways," I add, wondering why she would even think that I would be getting a message from a boy of all people.

Hermione looks at me curiously, lips pursed in thought. "So… you don't like boys?"

"No, I don't like them. Why would you assume that?"

"You… you like girls then?"

I nod slowly, wondering what about my statement is so difficult to understand. "Yeah. I do? Why?"

"I've never had a gay friend," Hermione blurts, quickly slapping her hand over her mouth, eyes widened comically. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say it that way! You're not an object or anything, you know? I just… I never had a friend to begin with, but I never thought my first would be gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that!" she stammers, hands held up in apology.

"Gay? What did I say about being gay?" I vacillate, confused beyond belief. Gay? Where the hell did she get that id- "Oh goddammit." I place my head in my hands, blushing furiously.

Gay. I'm gay now. I'm a woman, I like women. Therefore: gay. Whoops.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"It's alright, I don't think any differently of you," she vows, squeezing my arm. "I won't tell anyone, alright? I'm sure you want to keep it a secret."

I nod shyly, mystified that Hermione could immediately jump to the conclusion that I'm gay, instead of finding boys 'icky' like all other children her age would. I'm also mystified that I just confirmed her thoughts. Why? Why would I do that? What could that possibly gain me? What happened to being a Slytherin, using my brain instead of my muscles?

"If you don't mind me asking… who's the letter from?"

"I got a letter from my solicitor telling me that the man who betrayed my parents will be getting a trial. He didn't get one when he was originally incarcerated for some odd reason. Looks like I'll be able to see true justice done and really figure out what happened ten years ago."

"I'm happy and sad to hear that Helene. I'm sorry you've had such a hard go of it, but it's good to get closure." Her eyes light up dangerously, her obsession with studying rearing its head. "But don't think you can use that as an excuse to get out of homework Miss Potter! You've still got a few inches left on your Defence essay, let's get to it!"

I grab my incomplete essay out of my bag, along with a quill and ink pot, mockingly pouting as I get to work.

-::-

The next day I find myself knocking on the door to the charms classroom, a high pitched, "Come in!" greeting me as I slide into the room. I stop and smile at the familiar sight, the tremulous tower of books stacked all around Flitwick's desk. It's so… unwieldy, yet it adds to the charm. Apt, considering he's the charms professor.

"I'm assuming you're here to take me up on my offer Miss Potter?" Flitwick inquires, looking out over his desk with an eyebrow cocked.

"Absolutely Professor. I don't think I'd be a true Claw if I said no to extra work," I reply, grinning in excitement.

"Truer words have never been spoken," he approves, climbing down from his seat and strolling over to me. "I know you've been reading ahead Miss Potter, but I'd like to run you through a drill and see where you're at before I teach you anything. We don't want to get ahead of ourselves or be too far behind, correct?"

"Yeah, I understand. What would you like me to start off with?"

Flitwick scratches his chin before snapping his fingers (sadly unaccompanied by the declaration of 'Eureka!'). Producing his wand out of his sleeve, he lights the end, "This is the lighting charm, lumos. I know we've gone over this a few weeks ago, but there is a derivative with the incantation, lumos solem, which instead of producing a light at the tip of your wand," he states, nodding pointedly at his wand as it shoots a solid line of light from the tip. "Lumos solem creates a beam instead, which you can direct and point much like a muggle torch. Go ahead and give it a try, there are no motions necessary."

I quickly fire off a Lumos, along with its variant before looking back at Flitwick and saluting him yet again. "Got anything harder Sergeant?"

Flitwick jokingly wipes an invisible tear from his eye before saluting back. "You bet your buttocks I've got some harder spells for you to try!"

We quickly dash through the lot of the first-year curriculum, Flitwick praising me all the while as we continue our little army routine. We make our way up to a cheering charm before Flitwick jumps for joy and rushes to his desk, books and paper flying through the air as he rummages around. A few minutes later, he's shouting excitedly and sprinting back, carrying a tome nearly as large as he is.

"Miss Potter you're a genuine prodigy and I'd love for us to continue our lessons. If you're half as good at transfiguration as you are at charms I know Minerva- sorry, Professor McGonagall would be ecstatic to provide you lessons as well," he proclaims, his voice brimming with pride as he hands me the tome. "I would like to give you this, it's my absolute favourite charms textbook, although it would be an insult to call it a simple textbook. This is a lexicon of charms from first year, up and beyond, going past seventh to what a Charms Master would be expected to study. I hope that you'll tear through most of this before your time at Hogwarts is up Miss Potter. Do the Claws proud!"

I look down in wonder at the gift he's given me, my mind racing at the possibilities this book may bring. Such a valuable thing for Flitwick to give to a first-year student. I flick my eyes back up to Flitwick, snapping off another joking salute, I cry out "Sir, Yes Sir!"

"Now go, off with you! I have grading to do!" Flitwick orders, frantically ushering me out of the room and chuckling all the while.

I love being a Ravenclaw.

-::-

Winter break is here in a flash, with me excitedly clambering onto the Express, looking forward to my first real Christmas holiday. Who knew a trip to the bank could change so much? I find myself in a compartment accompanied by Daphne and Tracey, as well as Hermione, Padma, and Lisa, all of us chatting about our plans for the break.

"Helene, I heard you're staying with Daphne over the break?" Tracey inquires, one eyebrow raised surreptitiously.

"Yep! Turns out our families go way back, and our parents were good friends," I respond, smiling widely. "I'm assuming I'll see you on Christmas day?"

"You can bet on that Potter!" She replies, grinning at me and punching Daphne in the arm, who scowls back at her. Looks like she's in another 'no fun allowed' mood. I find the disparity in personality between the two friends incredibly entertaining, like some sort of old comedy skit. It brings Abbot and Costello to mind. "You couldn't tear me away from my Daphne even if you cast a blasting hex!"

Everyone laughs at this, although we're all quickly interrupted by the compartment door sliding open to reveal the famous blond bastard sporting his usual sneer. "Hello Potty, spending time with the dykes I see? It's all bad breeding that leads to your perversions," he spits, crossing his arms and attempting to look intimidating as his brainless compatriots poke their heads out from behind him.

I look at Daphne and Tracey, noting how uncomfortable Daphne looks after Malfoy's bigoted announcement. "Malfoy, I asked you once, and I'll ask you again. Piss. Off," I hiss through gritted teeth, getting out of my seat and standing up in front of him.

"Why should I listen to a halfblood like you?" He smirks, looking as if he's won the argument. I sigh, dragging my fingers through my hair dramatically.

"Malfoy fuck off, you inbred little git."

"Why- you insufferable- When my father hears about this!"

"He's going to cry himself silly and cuddle the ewe that shares his quarters. I thought your family was French, not Welsh, yeah? I know it's encouraged to assimilate into a new culture when you move to another country, but daddy dearest took it a little too far." I smile maliciously at him, my temper getting the better of me.

"You bitch!" Malfoy cries, drawing his wand before I wave my hand reflexively, slamming the door shut on his fist. He quickly draws back, screeching in pain. He cries out some nonsense about blood traitors and what his father will do to me, or some other meaningless rubbish. I ignore him, flicking my hand again and closing the door behind him, taking out my wand and casting a silencing charm for good measure.

Huh, the train is really quiet now. I guess the silencing charm was a bit too powerful.

"Can you guys hear me?" I ask, looking over everyone. The whole compartment is now staring at me wide eyed. Weird. I tap myself on the head, noting that I can still hear. I snap my fingers as well, the sound registering fine. "You alright?"

"Mother of God! What the hell Helene! That was wandless magic!" Daphne shouts, jumping to her feet and grabbing onto my shoulders, shaking me vigorously. "Wandless magic!" She repeats loudly, eyes bugging out hysterically.

"Wa-a-a-a-as i-i-it?" I reply in short stutters as I'm aggressively tossed about. "I didn't know I could do that."

"That was genuine wandless magic!" She marvels. She blinks as she looks down at her hands, clasped tightly to my shoulders. Coughing, she releases me and sits back down, staring at the ground as her mind races. "I knew you were powerful for a first year but that's something on an entirely different level! Have you always been able to do that?"

"Uh, yeah. I didn't think it was a big deal, I just imagine what I want and try hard enough," I guess, shrugging my shoulders. "Combine the two and… poof, I make it so. I thought everyone could do simple things like that. All I did was shut the door."

"You didn't just shut the door. You sealed it!" She says frantically, pointedly poking at the side of the door. I look closely and realize that the frame has now joined with the door itself, blending together seamlessly. "That's OWL level work that you just did with no wand! I knew you were a bookworm, but how far have you studied ahead?"

"Erm- I try to read everything but I'm currently on some of the NEWT spell work, but only the simple stuff like the bubble-head charm... "

"Circe."

"Who?"

"Never mind," she mutters, a slow breath hissing between her teeth. "You're going to have to talk to my father about this when we get back to the manor."

"I'd really like to not call attention to myself if I can help it Daphne," I argue, looking over the rest of the group who are staring at me with a mix of awe and confusion. "I'd prefer for this to not get out at all. I don't really like attention, if you haven't noticed."

Hermione nods in agreement, doing yet another fervent Dobby impression.

"Helene did you even look at the contract my father sent you?" Daphne exclaims.

"No, I didn't. I mean, I glossed over it, but it seemed pretty standard. Why?"

Putting her head in her hands Daphne falls into her seat and moans. "You're smart but at the same time you're a bloody idiot, Helene. Always, and I mean always read a magical contract all the way through before signing it! You could have written away all of your rights and doomed yourself to servitude if that contract was from the wrong person!" She exclaims the last part loudly, stressing the danger of signing an unknown sheet of parchment. "Contracts in our world aren't just legally binding, they're magically binding! If you break it, then you lose your magic! You can even die due to a breach of contract if the breaking clause states such a thing!"

Oh okay, that sounds quite important. I really should know better after the fiasco with the Goblet of Fire. I've already had bad experiences with magical contracts, so how could I forget that?

"Shite," I whisper. "Good thing your dad is a stand-up guy, right?"

"Yes, it's a very good thing he is," she rasps, rubbing at her forehead while the rest of the compartment is simply aghast at what I almost did to myself. Hermione is shaking her head in disappointment, while Padma and Lisa just look relieved that I haven't dropped dead right in front of them due to my own stupidity.

"So, what's so important about the contract?"

"There's a confidentiality agreement that's a part of the contract. You can basically tell my father anything, as long as you're about to hurt someone, yourself, break a law, or have broken a law. He won't be able to tell anyone else about it unless you allow him to. You can confide in him, I'm sure he'd be happy if you did. It's all very similar to a healer's oath."

I sigh in relief. Looks like I may have found my first potential ally. If I can tell Octavius anything (within reason) and he can't spread any of my secrets, that means I can talk to him about the whole time-travel fiasco, as well as the meet and greet with Death. Hopefully he can give me a second opinion on what to do about Dumbledore, whether I should lay low or make an attempt to fight back in some way.

"Alright, I get what you're saying now," I note, echoing Daphne's exhausted gesture and kneading away my growing headache. This is a lot to take in. "Thanks for letting me know Daphne, sorry for scaring the hell out of everyone… again."

That little quip lightens up the mood, everyone slowly going back to their discussions; complaining about Quirrel, bickering excitedly over what the best track is on the new Weird Sisters album, you know, regular kid stuff. Sinking back into my seat next to Hermione I pull out my advanced charms lexicon and hunker down for the rest of the trip.

Edited, 21/05/18.