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

Chapter Eighteen | Fighting Back

My alarm causes me to quite literally shoot out of bed, falling out and onto the floor in a mild panic, wand brandished sleepily. I shake my head, clearing the daze from my head as I right myself. I stop and breathe deeply, trying to calm my nerves.

Dumbledore.

First the man sends me to the Dursleys, never bothering to check up on me. Then he has the nerve to allow the most dangerous and insane things to occur in a school of all places just to… to what? Test me? Make sure his little project comes out how he wants it to? Of course, even worse things happen after I fucking die and come back to life! The man is a psychopath! Madder than mad! He killed a student for fucks sake!

I grip my head with both hands, groaning at the oncoming headache.

So, I have to find a way to stay under the radar. He found me last night and I know for a fact that he's keeping tabs on the Room of Requirement. Hell, the Room might not even exist anymore after he blew the wall in. I'd guess that the enchantments that make it function are inscribed into the walls. Fuck! He had to go and destroy the magical holo-deck of all things!

I need to talk with Severus, he'd know what to do.

I go through the motions of the day, eating, pretending to pay attention in class… the usual kind of monotonous day I'm used to. I'm nearly chomping at the bit by the time classes and dinner are over with, stampeding towards the dungeons as fast as my legs can carry me.

I barge through Severus' office door, startling the ever-loving hell out of him.

"Damnit Helene!" he bellows. "I could have been working on something in here! Do you want to see me blown to smithereens so badly?"

I smile sheepishly, going through another breathing exercise to calm myself down. "The shit has hit the fan Severus," I say, pulling out my usual chair and slumping into it. I lean my head back, gazing at the ceiling and counting the cracks in the ancient stonework. "I'm by all rights completely and utterly fucked."

He blinks slowly before quickly pushing away the stack of papers he's marking. "Tell me what happened. Now," he demands, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

I tap my foot nervously, the clicking surprisingly loud as it echoes off of the walls, reverberating throughout the office. "Dumbledore knows there's a necromancer in the school," I say, fidgeting nervously. "He blew in the wall of my training room last night trying to catch me. The only reason I escaped is because I was lucky enough to be practicing shadow travel at the time."

I laugh harshly, nearly crying as I continue, still in disbelief of what happened. "He killed Ron you know. Yeah, well- he didn't kill him the first time. I brought him back, it seems he hadn't been dead long enough to be in any pain. Just, let me explain, alright?" I ask, wiping away Severus' look of revulsion and anger. "There's a time frame in which you're free to toss somebody back into their own body as long as there's not too much damage done to their body. Since he was done in by the killing curse, there were no problems, but Dumbledore killed him… he just fucking killed him," I mutter the last few words, my fist clenching and nails scratching against my armrest. "Albus Dumbledore murders children."

Severus emits the loud breath that he was holding in. He raps his knuckles over his desk, a habit of his that I've noticed. He sits there for a few minutes, not saying anything. Just thinking. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, so quiet that I almost don't hear it. "I'm sorry that your friend is dead even after all you'd done for him. I can't… I can't say he was my favourite student, but I could… almost see the friend you knew in him, once upon a time."

I smile thankfully at him. That's high praise coming from Severus, especially when directed at someone he really didn't enjoy teaching.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "Albus has crossed the line. I- I looked up to him for a long time… he was as close to a father figure I could get. Mine was… quite similar to your Uncle in his treatment of me."

I purse my lips, studying Severus as he gives up a bit of himself, the wall he's built chipping ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry," I echo, looking him in the eye and attempting to convey that I understand. Because I do get it, and he knows that the best of anyone. What it's like to be beaten down, to hide one's true self away from others in the fear that you'll be admonished for something you cannot change.

He nods in reply, an unspoken agreement between the two of us to not repeat what has been heard here today.

We sit there for a few minutes in silence, and I'm the first to break the peace.

"What do I do?" I ask, fingers nervously knotted together.

"I haven't a clue," he replies honestly. "Albus isn't someone you can just… take head on. He plans, and he plans, a backup for every situation that he can think of so that things move in the direction he wants them to. He's a general at heart, always moving the pieces." He grimaces, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "You know, I don't believe he's genuinely evil. I believe that he does what he does because he truly thinks that he is infallible."

I chuckle at that. "Of course he thinks he's infallible! He's the great Albus Dumbledore! Saviour of the Wizarding World! Defeater of Grindelwald!" I cry, the words spilling out like venom. "Really, the fact that he doesn't think he's wrong makes him just as bad as Voldemort. It shows how ridiculously out of touch he is."

I scratch my ear, holding my out, palm to the sky. "I'm already attacking him on one front through the Prophet, but I want to find a way to truly cripple him."

"That was you?" Severus asks, eyes wide, before shaking his head. "How did I not- of course it was you. Who else would know half the things that happened here and be able to report on them with such detail," he continues, smiling grimly. "I think you need to step it up on the propaganda, but I don't believe you'll like my idea."

"And what idea would that be?"

"You give an honest interview on your childhood. The childhood Albus consigned you to."

I swear loudly. Yeah, I really don't like that idea. "I have to admit it would definitely be effective," I say. "I just- I really don't want people to know, you know? I get enough looks as it is… I could do without the pity being added on to the power-hungry leers."

"I understand," he says. I look at Severus, feeling my stomach knot when I see that he really does understand. He doesn't pity me, he truly empathizes.

I run my fingers over my robes, my bitten nails catching on the fabric. What to do… what to do.

I sigh in exasperation, resigned to Severus' idea. It really is the best we can do at the moment. "Fuck it, I think we should do it." I say, Severus shocked that I would so quickly accept his proposition. I shrug ineffectually. "It's a good idea," I concede. "But, Dumbledore will know that its me that's going through the Prophet."

"From what you've told me, he's not your biggest admirer at the moment anyways."

"I don't know what his opinions are of me at the moment, but I'm still the child of prophecy. Even if he doesn't like me, he can't change the fact that I'm important to his plans."

"True, very true," Severus admits. "If he calls you up to his office, demand that Filius or I come along with you. I don't want to risk you being trapped alone with him considering his recent dabbling in homicide."

"Thanks for having my back Sev'."

"Any time Helene," he replies, lips curled into a smirk.

-::-

I can't stop myself from fidgeting. Be it my tapping knee, my twiddling thumbs, or this nervous tic I seem to be developing where my head twitches like a startled pigeon when someone tries to catch my attention.

The Prophet arrives as usual. I'm not there to see it arrive as I'm too busy hiding in the Chamber where no one can bother me, attempting to extend their half-hearted courtesies, telling me how they're sorry. I'm not too keen on the attention. Yes, I know I'm being incredibly immature.

I'm beginning to realize how much I've changed since I killed Lockhart, although it was more of an execution. That… event solidified in my mind how much older I am compared to my friends, my sisters. It's reminded me how they're completely and utterly unprepared for the coming war.

I realized how cold I can be. How I can switch off when it comes to life and death situations. I guess that's what happens when one becomes intimately familiar with the rush that comes after nearly dying, especially at such a young age.

Christ, I wasn't even twelve-years-old when I killed for the first time, and what happened then? A pat on the back, a pile of candy, and empty promises from a false prophet.

I don't want them dragged into everything, not like Ron and Hermione were the last time… not like Neville, Luna and Ginny. All of them could have easily died at the Department of Mysteries, and for all I know some of them did after I fell through the veil. Not that it actually happened, what with that timeline being erased on the whim of Death.

I've done my best to keep it separate from everyone, having effectively excluded the girls from the more eventful parts of my life. Well, apart from the Quirrel incident.

Maybe this is all just some exaggerated version of my tendency to brood, my reflex to push people away in the fear that they'll be killed in one of my ridiculous, harebrained adventures. I'm legitimately surprised it took me until fifth year to die on one of them.

Every bit of me screams out to let them go, to ignore them and distance myself for their own safety. A tiny voice in the back of my head whispers in my ear, telling me that they'll all die if I'm involved with them.

I do my best to ignore this voice.

I'm sitting on the cold stone, silently petting Magna's scales. I'm still quite pleased to have avoided calling Miss Snakey all the time. My life may be insane, but it's not so insane that I'll willingly refer to a thousand-year-old basilisk as Miss Fucking Snakey. Thankfully, she still loves the name I chose for her.

She rumbles in discontent as I halt my affections. I just realized I've never really explored this place before. Surely there's got to be more than just the main chamber, right?

I stand up, dusting my robes off and stretching, my leg a little numb from having sat down for so long. I wander the Chamber, following one of the massive pipes immediately to the left of the statue of Salazar. I trail my fingers along the walls, wiping the grime off in disgust and immediately casting periodic scourgify's as I walk ahead.

The pipes split and twist multiple times, different pathways coursing throughout the school. Some go directly up, climbing towards the sky and to the higher floors of the castle. Others wrap into themselves like an ouroboros, I imagine Salazar constructed them that way intentionally. The symbology and all that.

I come across the sigil of a snake at a dead end. Curious, I hiss at it to see what happens. Luckily, I don't get blown up by some parselmagic trap and the sigil instead marks a doorway which swiftly materializes at my command. I slowly open it and peek my head out.

Huh.

Looks like I'm on the fifth floor. I peer around the corner and realize that I'm just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the prefect's bathroom. These pipes are awful convenient.

I close the door and continue on my exploration, organizing the maze of pipes in my head as I march along. I find two doors for each floor in my search, both at opposing ends of one another. My guess is that Salazar set these up this way to allow him to get to anywhere in the castle from his Chamber as quickly as possible. From the sheer amount of bodies buried on the grounds, it looks like Hogwarts lived up to its original function as a castle and the planning was well needed.

I make my way back to the main chamber, my legs free of any aches and pains thanks to the strength and stamina rituals I've undertaken.

That's something I need to find, another ritual room. There's so many other rituals I want to undertake, so many that I need to undertake if I want to stand any chance of going toe to toe with Voldemort come fourth year.

:Magna, do you know of any ritual chambers within Hogwarts?: I ask the great snake. If anyone would know about a secret ritual chamber, I'd place my bet on it being the ancient snake.

She tilts her head for a moment to think, searching through a thousand years of memories with the brain of a very intelligent golden retriever must be quite difficult. :There one by old master's room: she states, bobbing her head.

Well, of course Salazar had a room in the castle, and of course it's here in the Chamber. I wonder if there's one for each of the other founders? If I had to guess, the Room of Requirement was probably Rowena's. There's no way it's not hers, I'd eat my hat otherwise… if I wore a hat.

: …and where exactly is that?:

:It my room now: she replies, inclining her massive head towards the open maw of Salazar's statue.

Well I'm an idiot.

I hiss for stairs, smiling when they appear and quickly running up them, taking two steps at a time as I practically leap into Salazar's long lost private quarters.

Salazar's long lost private quarters which are apparently at the end of a very long corridor.

I quell my excitement as I continue to jog towards the door at the far end of the hall, dodging bits and pieces of animal bones and what looks like a few rotting acromantula husks strewn about the corridor. Magna's made her nest here, and not in Salazar's quarters judging by the scaled grooves worn into the sides of the walls. Thank Merlin for that, she'd probably have destroyed everything in his rooms.

I tug the door open, blinking slowly. The room is so- so terribly… normal. Well, it's more of an apartment than a room, but its just so mind numbingly normal! I'm standing in the middle of a small living room bedecked in the green and silver known to the house of Slytherin. There's a fireplace against the far wall, a leather couch and a loveseat, and a few doors leading to what I presume are other terribly normal rooms.

I was expecting something more sinister! The anti-muggleborn manifesto! Instead I get this… this bloody regular old set of quarters and not some incredibly interesting and sinister dungeon!

I huff in a painfully immature way, setting off to explore the rest of the famed Chamber of Secrets.

There isn't much.

Oh, sure there's a ritual room. That's a big plus. But there's no tomes on incredibly dark magic, the methods in which the four founders constructed Hogwarts, or anything actually cool. God damnit. There's an empty potions lab, kitchen, bedroom, and the aforementioned ritual room.

Looks like Voldemort cleaned out the place the last time he was here. Couldn't leave any incredible ancient books on mysterious and equally incredible and ancient magics for the rest of us huh? Not even a bloody journal to be found.

Well, on the bright side of things, there is a ritual room, and I sincerely doubt that Dumbledore can find me here of all places. If he can… well I'm completely fucked if Dumbledore can get down here.

I stop my (now very bored) surveying of the Chamber and other assorted rooms, making my way back to the Ravenclaw common room through one of the Chambers passages. I don't believe it would be a good idea for me to blink to and from my room, or anywhere near where I normally stay. For all I know, Dumbledore tracked me via my usage of spells. I'm sure he has some sort of dark magic detector within the school, and I've probably been stupid enough to be setting the thing off every day since second year.

I stride into the common room, doing my best to stay unnoticed and rush off to bed when I'm confronted by most of the 'Claws. Hell, even the Gray Lady is hovering off to the side sporting her usual blank look.

"H-Helene… why didn't you tell us?" Hermione cries, rushing over and hugging me tightly enough that I feel my spine shudder in protest.

"Hermione, hey, hey, let me breathe for a second," I gasp, rubbing her back. She squeezes me once more before tentatively letting go, her hand tugging at my arm for a moment as she releases me. I look at her for a moment as she retreats and note her swollen eyes. She's been crying. Padma and Lisa walk over to me and hug me as well, whispering apologies in my ear.

"So… I imagine you all have questions?" I say, resigned as I look over just under a hundred concerned and curious students after detaching myself from my friends.

"Well- is it true? What the Prophet said?" One seventh year pipes up. Clearwater, I think. Prefect? Wasn't she Percy's girlfriend?

"Yes," I sigh, running my hands through my hair. "Every word. I didn't have the greatest of childhoods… I wanted people to know the real me, not what they've read in those inane stories that couldn't even get my gender right. I mean, honestly, Harry Potter and the Veela Conclave? I couldn't have been older than nine when that came out!"

The crowd laughs at this, the obvious tension in the room being relieved.

"What about Dumbledore?" Someone shouts, their hand waving over the top of the crowd.

I groan and scratch my head, mulling over how to phrase what could be a catastrophic sentence if it comes out wrong. Dumbledore is still incredibly powerful, both magically and politically, and I don't want to paint too large of a target on my back.

"Dumbledore… the deal with Dumbledore is complicated. He's a great wizard, don't get me wrong, but he's still human. He's not infallible, and the problem with him being so influential is that when he makes a mistake, that mistake can be catastrophic," I explain, some of the Ravenclaws nodding along. "One major mistake he made was placing me with my previous guardians and then never checking up on me. He expects the best out of people, and unfortunately, he expected the best out of my relatives. I know you're all familiar with the mistakes he made regarding the third-floor corridor. If that Cerberus got loose… well it would be nothing short of a massacre."

The chorused gasp runs through the crowd as they imagine what could have happened. What a blood bath that would have been.

Fucking Dumbledore.

I walk over to one of the couches and perch on top of it, legs dangling over the end. I clasp my hands together and rest them in my lap, swinging my legs back and forth nervously. "My relatives weren't loving, not by any means. They were selfish, bigoted, hateful, and all around abusive people. It doesn't matter who you are, they'd find a way to hate you. Be it via jealousy, scorn, or a general sense that they were just better than you. The thing they hated the most was magic. My aunt was horribly jealous of my mother when she got her letter, and that jealousy festered until it went from resentment to hate. My uncle was already a spiteful man, and her tales of my freak of a mother just added fuel to the fire."

I hop off the couch, stretching like a cat and yawning loudly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really do need to get some rest," I say.

A couple of people shout out very personal questions, but they're quickly silenced by Filius, who gives them a stern look and demands that they leave me alone. I smile gratefully at him as I walk up to my room, brushing my teeth before flopping into bed.

Not too soon after jumping into bed, I hear a knocking on my bed post and poke my head out of the curtains to see Hermione standing there. Her eyes are still slightly swollen, and her usual messy hair is especially bedraggled. She's taken the news a lot worse than I thought she would.

"Hey, you alright?" I ask. She laughs morosely and flicks me on the arm, sitting down next to me on my bed.

"You? You of all people are going to ask me that?" she murmurs, once again leaning on my shoulder. "I really don't get you sometimes Helene."

"Someone's got to look out for our resident librarian, right?"

She chuckles and wraps her arms around me, burying her face in the crook of my shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry," she whispers, her voice shaky. "I- I understand why you didn't tell anyone. I just wish I could have helped my best friend, you know?"

I run my fingers through her hair, holding her close as I console her. "I'm fine, really. I just don't like the attention. I… I came to terms with my abuse a long time ago, and Sirius helped me out with a lot of it over the breaks these last few years."

"Are you sure?" she responds, pulling back to take look at me, her eyes glistening.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Now, if you don't mind I would love to get some rest. As much as I enjoy having a beautiful witch in my lap, I've had a very long day."

She blushes and hides her face, hugging me once more before scampering off to her own bed.

I close my curtains and lay back, pulling the covers up to my chin. I'm going to do my best not to distance myself from my friends.

Hermits do tend to go mad after all.

-::-

"Miss Potter, if I may have a word with you in my office?"

I curse mentally. Took him less than a full day to confront me. I'm guessing our discussion is going to devolve into how I'm evidently turning dark, and how I've given away state secrets by telling the world of my true life.

"Could I come after I've finished my meal Headmaster? I'm still quite hungry," I say, gesturing at my lunch.

"Of course, of course," he reasons, nodding his head thoughtfully. "I'll see you soon. The password is nerds, by the way. I've become terribly fond of the sweet, or should I say sour, as of late."

I incline my head in reply, looking up to the staff table to shoot a meaningful glance at Severus. He lifts his goblet slightly in recognition and begins to wrap up his meal, getting ready to leave to leave. I scarf down the rest of my sandwich, saying my goodbyes to my friends before following him out.

"Are you ready for this?" I ask hesitantly, looking towards Severus. "You're sort of picking a side right now, and I don't want to see you on the Headmasters bad one. He is the one who vouched for you and helped keep you out of Azkaban, right?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he drawls, his voice surprisingly even. "And yes, although he is the one who vouched for me, I don't particularly care, because if I'm ever brought to trial I'll make sure to drag him into Azkaban with me."

"How would you do that exactly?"

"A few years ago, I developed a potion that provides temporary immunity to veritaserum, about a month long depending on the dosage. Albus of course knows nothing of this," he adds with a feral grin. "I believe myself to be a sufficiently skilled actor considering my years as a double-agent, would you not agree?"

That's… that's absolutely devious.

"You're one terrifying man, you know that Sev'?" I stop at the doors, looking up at him one last time. "… are you sure about this?"

"Of course, I'll do whatever is in my power to help you Helene," he responds, before turning to the griffin statue guarding the stairs to the Headmasters office. "Nerds," he announces. We walk up the stairs at a sedate pace, preparing ourselves for the argument to come.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice rings through. I glance up at the empty portrait frame above the door and shake my head. Always with the theatrics. I push the door open, striding into the office with all the confidence I can muster.

"Please, sit down. Severus, you may go," he continues, not even looking up from his parchmentwork as he waves his hand at Severus to leave.

Severus doesn't leave, planting himself next to me and crossing his arms, causing the Headmaster to tear his eyes from his work. "I'm afraid I will be staying for this discussion Headmaster, as Helene has requested my presence as one of the Heads of House."

Albus looks askance as he lifts his head, tidying up a stack of parchment and setting it off to the side. "Now, there's no need for that. Me and Helene were just going to have a private chat."

"I'm sorry sir, but if Severus doesn't stay then I'll have to request for Sirius or Octavius to attend this meeting. According to the Hogwarts Charter, any meetings with the Headmaster must be attended by either a Head of House or the student's parents or guardians," I interrupt, smirking internally at Albus's look of confusion and mild frustration.

"Forgive me my dear, I do tend to forget some things in my old age. Please, take a seat," he says waving pointedly at the single chair in front of him. I sit down, Severus looming over my shoulder like a very greasy and easily frustrated guardian angel. Turns out the grease is a glamor to make sure that students don't crush awkwardly on him. Apparently, he nearly had to ban a sixth-year girl from his NEWT classes when she kept trying to get him alone, and he's been terrified of lecherous teens ever since. No matter how much Severus complains, working at Hogwarts really is a great job.

"Now, I was concerned to read of what allegedly occurred to you whilst you were living with your family Helene. You should have conferred with me before releasing such information. It may place your relatives in danger," Dumbledore proclaims, a disappointed look on his face.

"I hold no love for my relatives, Headmaster. I would also like to mention that I take offense that you would believe my testimony to only be allegations," I retort, cocking my head to the side questioningly. "Unless you have proof that I was treated differently? Additionally, I was also unaware that personal matters should be taken up with you, my Headmaster, considering my adoptive father is a lawyer and would understand the ramifications of my story being told to the Prophet."

Dumbledore steeples his fingers, not rushing in on the offensive like he did the last time I saw him and ended up destroying a good portion of his office. I shouldn't have let my magic get away from me then, but, if I do say so myself, that was an impressive way to destroy one's office.

"I'm sorry my dear, I'm not sure you understand the gravity of the situation," he argues plaintively. "Your relatives may be in danger now due to your very public attack on their character."

I lean forward, my eyes narrowed dangerously. "Please, stop call me 'my dear' Headmaster, I find it to be uncomfortably familiar when we've had but three conversations in my time here," I demur, almost giggling at the offended flash in his eyes. "Like I said previously, I hold no love for my relatives and any wrath they incur as a result of their abuse of me. Yes, abuse, Headmaster. They very well deserve what's coming to them."

"You wish death upon your relatives Helene?" he gasps, fingers now splayed in shock.

"Please, refer to me as Miss, as you do every other student," I assert. "And of course not. I never have wished death upon them. What I do wish is repercussions for their disgusting actions towards me as a child, preferably through the justice system."

Dumbledore shakes his head serenely, his beard swaying. "You must learn to forgive He- Miss Potter, it does not do one well to hold onto hate."

"I understand that. A wise man once told me that 'hate begets hate,' and that it only takes one person to break the cycle," I comment, knowing Severus is probably trying to hide a smirk behind me. "I do not hate my relatives. I pity them. I pity them for their hate, their inability to see beyond their small worldview and understand that difference is not something to be reviled or feared- but encouraged."

Dumbledore nods knowingly at this, seemingly content with my answer. I don't quite know what to make of that. "Well, I see that I cannot change your mind Miss Potter. Please, do keep in mind to come and speak with me before you decide to make another rash decision," he says flatly, obviously dismissing us.

I nod politely and get up, Snape following in my wake as we leave. We walk in silence to Severus' office.

"That was… not what I expected," I confess as Severus shuts the door.

"Agreed. He's planning something, but I do not know what."

"That can't be good, can it?"

"No."

-::-

Dumbledore was concerned, deeply concerned for the fate of the wizarding world. His conversation with Helene Potter lead to him drawing parallels to another student he taught many years ago. Tom Riddle.

He found her disturbingly similar to him. Her controlled cadence, the way she carried herself, how she could spin a tale and weave verbal circles around a man like him, a man who'd spent most of his life playing the political field in an almost artistic manner with his use of half-truths and misdirection.

It scared him, if he was to be honest with himself. A rarity with Dumbledore.

He stared out of the window, wondering whether her personality was due to a mistake he may have made. Could her relatives really have treated her so poorly? Was that why she did not trust him? He had assumed that upon her entering Hogwarts for the first time she would be mystified, incredulous at the sheer magic of it all. How she would be a humble child.

Instead, she was broken.

He didn't know if he believed every word of the article. How she was forced to cook and clean from the age of four, beaten and starved of both food and compassion. Yes, he did believe that she may have had a somewhat… less than ideal upbringing, considering the Dursley's opinions on magic. But they couldn't have been abusive. Who on Earth would abuse one's own blood? He wondered in amazement, the idea completely foreign to him. The insanity of it!

"No, everything has been blown out of proportion," he murmured thoughtfully, dragging a wrinkled hand through his beard. "But what do I do about the girl?"

Should he tell her of the prophecy? She was surely getting closer to an acceptable age for it, and she would be taught occlumency of course. There's no way he could have such vital information being leaked. Severus could teach the girl.

He paused, his absentminded ruminations halting as he brought his hand out of his beard and up to his chin, resting one finger under his lips as he thought.

Severus. What had happened to him? Dumbledore thought that he would hate Helene for what she represented, the child that he never could have had, Lily's child. More importantly, James's child. He never expected the man to become something of a mentor for the girl, if his guess at their current relationship was correct. In fact, he may even see her as something of a niece, dare he even think it, a daughter.

If only she hadn't broken those bindings, she would have attended Hogwarts as Harry and not had to have fought an uphill battle.

He lamented that. The Wizengamot was just that, the Wizarding court of law. Not the Wiccegamot, not the Magigamot, but Wizengamot. Plans upon plans had been dashed away, and the House of Potter would most likely fade into oblivion if the girls future husband did not allow her to name one of their children as heir. It was quite likely, and he prayed that she didn't end up marrying into a dark aligned family, for she'd most likely live her life as nothing but a brood mare.

He sighed, sadly remembering that his first choice as a potential partner for her, chosen after realizing that she was very much a her, and not a him, was no longer available. Ronald Weasley, regrettably, had passed on to the next great adventure.

Dumbledore blinked slowly, bringing his tangential thoughts back on course.

As long as he could keep the girl on track, keep her on the path of the light, Britain may come out of the future war much stronger than before. But, something was off about the child. Something terribly sinister.

It wasn't how much she reminded him of Tom, as Dumbledore had now convinced himself that her similarities were only a coincidence and nothing more.

No. Something felt… off about her magic.

He sighed, tiredly stroking his beard once more as he watched the giant squid play, flicking gouts of water through the air above the lake.

"It's probably nothing to worry about, just the soul shard in her scar," he thought aloud, nodding his head. "Yes, nothing to worry about at all."

Everything would work itself out in the end. Helene would defeat Tom, and she would come out of it cleansed of the darkness of his soul, ready to lead the wizarding world into a new era.

Now, if he could only find out who that damnable Necromancer was…

Kragh50: Right in one on that ritual chamber call!

Bearmauls: I've always been a fan of the idea that snakes talk like sneks. And yeah, Helene's heart doesn't beat, and that will come up later down the line.

Edited, 11/06/18.