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

Chapter Nineteen | Fury

Dumbledore is paying more attention to me. I can feel the portraits eyes burning a hole in my back as I walk through the halls. The tinned whispers of people long dead reporting my every move, tickling at my ears and reminding me of how long I've been manipulated, how long I've been forced to play a role. I don't know what Dumbledore's end game is, and I'm sure in his mind he feels that he's justified, but it doesn't excuse his actions. The lives he's willingly destroyed in his path to… what? What is his goal?

Voldemort, I understand. No, I don't condone what he's doing in any way. He's a psychopath, a danger to humanity, but I understand why he does what he does. He's lashing out against the world, an angry child in a monsters body throwing a homicidal tantrum. It's always been about power for Voldemort. That's simple, easy to understand. But Dumbledore? All I know is that he has a strict idea of how the world works, how he wants it to work, and he does his best to have it conform to his views. He utilizes his positions to shape and carve the world into his paradise, whereas Voldemort just wants to destroy.

Speaking of, Dumbledore has been on thin ice lately. The ministry is investigating him, along with the goings-on at Hogwarts for the last few years. I've noticed Amelia's familiar face in the halls, and she's approached me a few times to say hello and check up, obviously concerned after reading the Prophet article. It was embarrassing to have a woman that I admire so much to speak to me with pity in her eyes, but I felt that the pity quickly changed to compassion when she realized that I came out of that mess in one piece.

I've caught glimpses of Dumbledore as he traipses through the halls, chin held high and offensively bright robes brushing the ground beneath him. I noticed the well-hidden worry in his eyes. He's stressed, that's evident, but he thinks he can get out of this. Not on my watch.

Rita has been pulling up dirt on him for the last few years. Octavius has had her working her way towards publishing a book, one that she's titled The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, a tell-all biography detailing Dumbledore's childhood and life through young adulthood. Turns out he was quite chummy with Grindelwald back before the war and the both of them coined his term 'For the Greater Good,' Grindelwald's ramshackle justification for his personal genocide against the muggle world.

It's going to launch in a few weeks, as Rita is just putting the finishing touches on it now. She got started on it after my initial meeting with Octavius, the first time I was over at the Greengrasses. I'm looking forward to its release, to seeing the shock and anger written on Dumbledore's face as he notices his world crumbling all around him. His positions, his legend all coming to an end, and the world will see him for what he truly is: a liar and a murderer.

I hear stamping feet behind me, turning around to see Hermione running clumsily towards me with a smile on her face. "Hey! How's your day going?" she gasps, doubling over as she catches her breath.

"It's good! Uh, quick question though. Why are you running through the halls? Isn't that against the rules Hermione?"

She shoots me a half-hearted glare, standing up straight as she recovers from her sprint. "I think you've broken that little part of me that loves rules," she jibes, reaching towards me and balancing herself on my arm as she adjusts one of her socks. She doesn't mention the impact that the news surrounding Dumbledore has had on her, but I know that its affected her greatly. "I'm corrupted and it's all your fault!"

I laugh, but I feel a touch of guilt hearing those words slipping out of her mouth. I'm worried about inadvertently forcing my friends to grow up before their time like I had to. It's not something I'd wish on someone, especially one that I care about.

"So, what class are you headed to? Don't you have muggle studies soon?" I ask, adjusting my book bag as I follow her through the halls.

"No, divination," she replies, a grimace on her face as if the words are bitter as they pass over her tongue. I guess it's about time that she has her little spat with Trelawney and storms out of the classroom. I wonder if she's still got a time-turner this year? She doesn't look burnt out.

I stick my tongue out, garnering a laugh from her. "Eugh. I'm glad I didn't take that. All I've heard is that Trelawney predicts a few people's deaths every class. Honestly, at the rate she's working half the school will be gone before Winter break."

Hermione giggles, not even reprimanding me for saying Trelawney without the ever-important title of Professor tacked on. "I think I'm going to drop it," she mentions, looking shocked that she even considered the idea. "I haven't learned anything, and they really should mention before we take the class that seers are born, not made." She throws her hands up in the air, a playfully exasperated look on her face. "I mean, really! We're going to predict the future through tea-leaves? What about learning something useful like scrying!? That counts as divination, and you don't need to be a seer to learn that."

I shake my head, smiling at her rebellious display. "Preaching to the choir there Hermione. I didn't take the course for a reason."

"I know, I know," she says, still slightly out of breath. "I just wish we had someone more useful as a Professor for that course. It would be so much more interesting!"

"So… why don't you just skive off? You're going to drop it anyways."

She turns to me, utterly horrified that I would even suggest such a thing. "Helene Lily Potter! You- you… that's an excellent idea!" She grins widely at my shocked look, faux-horror melting away. Wow. I really have corrupted her! "What class have you got right now?"

"Uh… I've got ancient studies right now, why?"

"Because you're skiving off with me!"

I frown and lay my hand against her forehead. "Huh, you're not running a temperature… are you sure you're Hermione and not some sort of long lost twin?"

"No, no," she mutters seriously. "There's no such thing… is there?"

"Not that I know of!" I laugh. "At least, not in the real world. In muggle fiction maybe." I scratch my head, a touch mystified by her behaviour. "So… what did you want to do?"

"I uh… I didn't think that far ahead?" She replies sheepishly, averting her eyes.

"Well, we could always just go down by the lake and read, chat, maybe skip some stones while it's still a touch warm," I offer.

"That sounds great!" She says, already marching off towards the lake.

What on Earth is going on with her? I wonder. She's never been so excitable before. Not that I'm complaining, but something about Hermione is different.

We stroll through the empty halls, dodging Filch and stealthily making our way over to the lake. We set up camp next to a tree overlooking most of the grounds, propping myself against it as Hermione settles down next to me, a book already in hand. We stay there for a while, resting in the autumn sun and enjoying one another's silent company.

"So, what's gotten into you today?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. "You seem awfully chipper. You get good news or something?"

"No, I haven't. Is it so odd for me to be happy?"

"No! Not at all! I was just curious."

"Well, I've learned some things about myself," she muses, tearing her eyes away from her book and looking out over the pristinely calm lake. She looks almost like her old self for a second, the Hermione I knew in my last life as a light breeze ruffles her hair, curls shining gold and red in the light of the sun. "I've learned some things that, well- to be honest they scared me a bit, but I… accepted them and I'm happier for it." She whispers the last few words, a subtle smile working its way across her face.

I nod, confused, but happy for her. "… and what would those things be?"

"Nothing of consequence," she smirks, crossing her legs and returning to her book. What the hell has gotten into her today? Nothing of consequence? She's talking in riddles! I swear to god if she went on another Alice in Wonderland binge like in the last timeline I'm going to lose it. Last time that happened she spoke in psychedelic idioms for a whole week!

I lay there, surprisingly comfortable as I'm caught between the crisp air and warm sun, my eyes drooping lazily as I fall into a light sleep.

-::-

"…hey! Wake up sleepy-head! You there?"

"Huh?" I grumble, confused and disoriented.

"I said wake up! You've been out like a light for the past hour," Hermione says, her voice surprisingly close. Blinking slowly, I go to rub my eyes and realize one arm is caught, the familiar feeling of pins and needles tickling at the deadened limb. I lift my head and realize it's been laying on her shoulder, my arm tucked behind the small of her back and my hand resting on her waist.

"Oh shoot! I'm so sorry!" I babble, reflexively tugging my arm out from behind her and falling over onto the slightly damp grass. She looks almost offended at my retreat, her head tilting to the side as she studies me. I feel a bit embarrassed reacting that way after we've been so close lately, but I didn't mean to jump away from her like that.

"It's nothing to worry about," she murmurs, reaching over and helping me off the ground. "It's almost time for dinner, are you going to stay there or are you coming with me?"

"Huh?" I say, still shaking the daze away from my nap. I flex my arm, the painful tingling beginning to leave. "Yeah, yeah I'll be right there." I grab my bag, quickly falling in line with Hermione as we amble up the hill back towards the castle.

"Are you alright?" I ask, looking her over. She seems stressed now, nothing like her playful self from earlier. Her shoulders stand rigid and one hand is clenched tight over the strap of her book bag, knuckles standing out in sharp relief. She glances up at me, a thoughtful look on her face as she considers my question.

"I… I am and I'm not," she confides. "Can we stop here for a second? I'd like to say something."

"Sure. What is it that you want to talk about?"

"I… I- I think I might..." She paces restlessly, tearing a groove into the well-fed Hogwarts grass. She lifts her hand up to her head, pinching her temple. "Damnit why is this so hard?" She exclaims, stumbling from one word to another as she attempts to string a sentence together. I've never seen her so flustered or worried before. I reach out, squeezing her shoulder.

"It's alright. You don't have to tell me if you're not ready, whatever it is," I reassure her. "Just know that I'd never judge you, alright? I'll always be around to chat. Helps that I'm your room mate," I add, smiling at her.

She returns the smile, her throat bobbing as she swallows heavily, staring at the ground. Her brow furrows dramatically in thought. "Can I talk to you some time this weekend? About… well, what I want to talk to you about." She fidgets nervously with her hands, staring at the ground. "I just need some time to sort things out."

"Like I said, I'm always around."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Now, would you like to go and eat? I'm feeling a bit hungry myself."

"Lead the way," she replies, gesturing forward.

I notice something different as we walk into the Great Hall. Plenty of red hair. Looks like the Weasley family is back. "Give me one second, alright? I need to go and talk with Ginny," I say.

"Ginny Weasley?" She asks, looking over at the girl and licking her lips nervously. "Do you mind if I come with you? I wanted to make sure she's doing alright after… after what happened. I know we don't know her that well but… I want to talk to her. I don't think she has many friends."

I cringe at that statement, having forgotten to speak with Ginny last year and induct her into our friend group. "Not at all. I'm sure it'd help for her to be surrounded by friendly faces right now."

I walk over, sitting down next to Ginny, with Hermione taking a seat on her other side. The Ravenclaw table has given her a wide berth, apparently incapable of comforting an emotional young girl. That's the one thing I don't like about Ravenclaw. Hell, I hate it. They constantly compete with one another, sabotaging homework, rampant bullying, the way they segregate themselves from other 'Claws who aren't stereotypically brainy. I guess they're Ravens for a reason.

"Hey Ginny," I murmur, doing my best not to startle her. She doesn't react apart from her fingers tightening around her cutlery, hands trembling as she grips the pieces of silverware. "I know you've probably heard this a million times in the last few days, and you're about to blow a gasket if you hear it again, but I want to say that I'm sorry for your loss. I understand what you're going through, and if you need someone to talk to, I've been told I have a good shoulder to cry on."

She huffs quietly, scraping and pushing the sparse amount of food around on her plate. "Thank you," she whispers, so quiet I almost don't hear it. "I… thank you."

"I'm here for you as well," Hermione speaks up, placing a calming hand on Ginny's back. "If you need me, either of us, we're here."

Ginny looks up, her eyes glistening and lip quivering, suddenly pulling Hermione into a tight hug. Hermione squeaks in surprise, hands held out awkwardly. She awkwardly wraps her arms around Ginny, cradling her against her shoulder and rubbing small circles into her back. Lisa and Padma sit down across from us, both looking concerned.

"Is she okay?" Lisa mouths, looking back and forth between me and Ginny. I shake my head.

"Not yet, but she'll heal," I whisper surreptitiously. "We'll be there for her."

The two of them nod in unison.

-::-

"Hey… Daphne? Can we talk for a second?"

I've managed to corner her after one of the few classes she doesn't share with Tracey. I'm sick and tired of the hostile attitude that I've been getting from the younger girls, and I want to put a stop to it by any means. If I have to use Daphne as an unwilling mediator, I'm going to do that.

She stumbles at my voice, confused. "Hey Helene… what are you doing here? Don't you have runes with Gryffindor in a few minutes?"

I wave her off. "I'm skipping today, I've got something more important to worry about," I explain, taking her by the arm and leading her to a nearby empty classroom, one of many in Hogwarts.

This school is severely underpopulated. A depressing result of two back to back wars and the near genocide of British muggleborns. In turn, many an abandoned classroom and a severe lack of course choices.

"What's all this about?" She asks, looking furtively about the room. "Is everything alright with you? You've never pulled me aside like this before."

I blast the dust off of a desk, taking a seat on top of it, my feet scraping the floor as I kick them to and fro. "Everything is alright with me, but not everything is alright with Tracey," I say, Daphne frowning. "I don't know why she's taken such a fervent dislike to me-"

"She has her reasons," Daphne interrupts.

I close my eyes for a moment, biting my cheek in mild frustration. "Like I said, I don't know why she's taken such a dislike to me, but I want to figure out what I did wrong. If I didn't do anything wrong, I want to know why she's been such an outrageous bitch to me since last winter."

Daphne groans, running a hand down her face and pinching her jaw between her forefingers. "It's not my place to say," she says, obviously a bit cross with the situation as well. "Like I said, Tracey has her reasons. Trust me when I say that it is her story to tell, and she's completely justified in her anger. She just shouldn't be taking it out on you."

"Well, I'd love to figure out what the fuck is going on and talk with her about – whatever it is," I clip, sighing quietly when I realize that I'm taking my frustrations on Daphne. "Sorry, I shouldn't be speaking to you like that. It's just been driving me crazy having this divide between everyone. I know the tension has been bothering everyone else, and I don't want this to carry on."

Daphne nods, a melancholy look on her face. "Agreed. I'll talk to Tracey, alright? I've got a spare block, but you should really get to your runes class. I know how seriously you take it."

I smile at my sister, readjusting my bag and pulling it up a little higher. "Thanks Daphne. I'll see you soon, alright? Don't work too hard!" I order her, jogging towards the sixth floor.

-::-

"Miss Potter, would I be able to speak with you for a moment?"

God damnit.

"Headmaster, what can I do for you?" I ask cordially, doing my damndest not to spit in the murderous bastards face.

"I was wondering if you would be able to come up to my office, so we may have a quick chat. I have some important information for you that I feel you would like to know," he responds, turning on his little twinkle cantrip. God, how I hate that bloody twinkle.

"I have runes in a few minutes, would there be any way this could wait?"

"I can give you a permission slip. This information isn't something that can wait."

"Well, let me contact Professor Flitwick or Snape and I'll be on my way."

"Hele- Miss Potter, surely you do not need to interrupt one of the Professors classes for this. Do you not trust me?" Dumbledore asks, a half-hearted attempt to guilt me.

"I'm simply following regulations Professor," I say, snapping off a messenger patronus to Severus. I smile at the massive thestral in front of me, ethereal hooves scuffing against the ground and a puff of silvery smoke emitting from its nostrils. "Professor, this is Helene. I have need of you for a meeting at Dumbledore's office," I announce to the patronus, which dips its head and disappears into the wall, off to relay my message.

"Shall we be off?"

"Yes, we shall," Dumbledore replies, unable to hide his astonishment at my patronus. "When did you learn to cast such a spell, let alone the messenger variant? That's highly impressive, even for a full-grown witch."

"I practiced. Then I practiced some more," I explain, not explaining anything at all. "I thought it would be an important spell to learn considering the host of dementors roaming around the grounds this year."

Dumbledore nods mutely, his beard swaying as he leads me to his office. Severus is waiting there, wearing his usual dour mask. Dumbledore makes no move to argue with his presence, inviting him with us up the stairs.

I take the same seat I did last, Severus yet again looming behind me. I cross my legs, resting my clasped hands on top of my knee. "Headmaster, what is so urgent that you pulled me away from one of my courses?" I inquire, one eyebrow raised.

Dumbledore sighs heavily, looking everything like Atlas, the world resting on his shoulders. He glances up at me with dull eyes. "Miss Potter, I find there is no easy way to say what I must," he proclaims, glancing towards Fawkes who trills lightly, the quiet song of the phoenix tickling at my mind. I clench my teeth at the pain the sound brings, the magic of something so light clashing with my own. Fawkes cocks his head at me, now silent, one eye watching me warily.

"There is… a prophecy. A prophecy told before you were born, detailing that you will be the one to vanquish Lord Voldemort," he continues, unaware of my reaction to the phoenix song. "I wanted to tell you of this when you were older, more prepared for such a burden. I did not want to ruin your childhood, you see."

"I am fully aware of the prophecy Headmaster," I intone, openly smirking at his look of shock. "I understand that I will be the one to put down Voldemort one day. I do not look forward to it, but I know that it's inevitable. Was there anything important that you wanted to tell me?"

"I was… unaware that you already knew of the prophecy. To be quite honest, that shocks me deeply. If I may inquire, who was it that told you?"

"I'm afraid that I cannot divulge that information Headmaster," I deflect, waving my hand lackadaisically. I'm not about to explain to Dumbledore of all people that Death itself told me the prophecy. Hell, I'm not feeling up to explaining anything to him. I feel sick just being in the same room as the old man.

"I assure you Miss Potter, this information must be kept under lock and key, you understand? If Voldemort was to become aware of the prophecy you would be in grave danger," Dumbledore states, looking on at me imploringly.

"I understand, and the prophecy will not find its way into his hands. Now, was there a reason you brought me up here now as opposed to a few years ago? Why you deemed it necessary to withhold such vital information? Why you found an excuse to not supplement my education and train me for the war that I will fight in?"

"I simply wanted to make sure that you had a happy childhood," he argues, hands held out in a calming gesture. "No child should have to deal with such a thing hanging over their head. Nor should they be worked like an animal, training to fight at such a young age."

"Yet I still suffered every day within the oh so loving environment the Dursley's fostered," I spit back. Is this bastard really going to tell me that he wanted me to have a happy childhood? Does he not listen to the words that come out of his mouth? I clench my hand, my nails digging into the flesh of my palm as I glare at Dumbledore with unadulterated contempt. "Do you really believe yourself to be so important? Do you really believe yourself to be infallible? That every choice you make is without consequence? You've sat within your ivory tower for so long that you no longer see individuals Dumbledore, you are incapable of seeing the forest for the trees. How dare you sit there and try to bullshit me into believing that you allowed me to be abused for my own good."

"Helene, I did everything for you. I made my decisions for your betterment" he retorts, his magic beginning to condense, his presence stifling. "You are but a child, incapable of understanding the reasons behind the things I do. I do them because I must. I do them to keep you away from the dark. The danger that such power holds!"

He stands up, pacing back and forth, breathing deeply to calm himself down. I look on, disinterested at his display of power. Yes, I know I couldn't fight him right now and stand a chance of winning, but I know I'm too important for him to do anything rash. I can sit back and watch him dig his own grave.

"Is that your fear? To create another Voldemort?" I goad him, my words dripping with venom. "Well, let me tell you something, Headmaster. I will never, never be like him. But, do you want to know something? You could have created another Dark Lord very easily, or should I say Dark Lady? You placed me into an abusive environment, you never checked up on me, you kept family heirlooms away from me in the hopes that by gifting them to a broken child that you would earn their unwavering trust. These are only a few of the things that you have willingly done wrong. You are the one who is dark. No, not in magic, but in your actions," I curse, working myself up into a small frenzy as I rant at the wizened man.

He rears back as if struck, my words hitting their mark. Severus tightens his grip on my chair, the leather near my head cinching under his callused fingers. I stand up, striking my fist on Dumbledore's desk, my aura flashing unintentionally, a deep black dancing around my body, the shadowy silhouette flickering out of existence as I reign my temper back in.

"You believe yourself to be the wisest of all men, standing on your pedestal and attempting to mould the world as you see fit. Sure, you can argue that you have honest, even good intentions, but you forget the lives that you ruin in your path. You do it all for your greater good, don't you? You and Gellert had big plans for the world, did you not?"

Shit. I think I got too carried away.

Fury emanates from Dumbledore, the anger tangible as it rushes off of him, his magic flaring wildly as he looks down on me in a rage. "You… you, young Helene, you remind me of a student I had a long time ago. He was clever, very clever. We argued much the same way that you and I are now. Do you know what happened to him? What he became? Do you?" He booms, his voice echoing off the walls, power laced through his every word.

"Tom Riddle," I clip, jutting my chin out and staring the Headmaster down, unwavering. "You would dare to compare me to him? The man who murdered my family? The man who nearly destroyed this world? You are blind, Headmaster. You… you mur-"

Severus grabs my shoulder, stopping me sort. "Watch yourself," he mutters tensely.

I hiss through gritted teeth, my jaw clenched painfully. I sober up quickly, realizing I almost let myself go there, almost gave myself away as the one Dumbledore is doing his best to hunt and put own. Me and my fucking temper.

"I'm leaving, before this office turns into a warzone," I seethe, the chair spinning out of my way with just a wave as I exit the room, Severus hot on my heels. I take deep, ragged breaths as I try to calm myself down. I march a warpath through the school, pushing my way through the crowds of students who fall over themselves in shock as they're rudely displaced. I quickly find myself in Severus' office, pacing wildly.

"Helene, calm down," Severus calls, grabbing me by the shoulders. "Breathe, alright? In, then out. In, then out."

I shut my eyes tight, in through the nose, out through the mouth. I stand there for a few minutes, my mind still raging, but slowly ebbing away. "I'm… I'm so damned furious," I gasp, slightly shocked at my anger. "I can't believe I blew up like that… I just- damnit, he riles me up without even trying! He thinks he can bring me back over to his side with that offering? He has the nerve to believe he can just walk back into my life and attempt to ruin it another time?"

"Apparently, he does…" Severus observes, his voice strained. "Things got out of hand."

"Understatement of the century," I laugh morosely, my voice heavy with sarcasm. "He saw my aura Severus, he saw my magic. He's going to put two and two together soon."

"Then we put him on the defensive," he states. "We need something to keep him off kilter, something to put him down for good."

"Rita's book isn't coming out for another few weeks," I grunt, resting my head in my hands, massaging my temples as a headache rapidly begins to form, a tense throbbing at the front of my skull. "We can't exactly push her to get it out immediately."

"She could advertise it, put out a teaser. Maybe a chapter or two released into the Prophet before the book launch?"

"That could work… but we want to take him by surprise. He could stop the whole thing before it even gets off the ground."

"Then we publish the teaser under a pseudonym."

Could that… could it be that simple?

"I'll get into contact with Octavius immediately," I say, shooting towards the floo. I cast a quick incendio, the fire roaring to life as a throw a pinch in. "Greengrass Manor," I intone, stepping through.

I vanish the ashes off my robes, dashing through the sitting room and up to Octavius' study. I knock loudly on the door, not even waiting for a response as I walk into the room. Octavius looks up at me in surprise, dropping his quill.

"Helene? What are you doing here? Is- is everything alright?" he asks, standing up and pulling me into a hug.

"There's been a change of plans."

"What do you mean, a change of plans?"

I sigh deeply, stepping back from Octavius and looking him in the eyes. "Dumbledore is becoming more of a problem, we have to start whittling away at his political base now. He's getting more aggressive when it comes to keeping me under his thumb, and I'm scared to see what lengths he'll go to."

Octavius nods, having been the one to help me realize how much Dumbledore had tampered in my life. "Is he not busy dealing with the current attacks on his person from the Prophet? That recent article detailing how you were… raised, seems to have made an impact."

"Not enough of an impact," I say, shaking my head. "I think it's pushed him to keep his attention focused on me. Dumbledore is big enough that these stories will probably be forgotten in a few months unless there's a new piece of news released every week, or, something big enough to really knock him off his feet."

"So, what did you have in mind? I thought that Sirius and I had everything well in hand."

"I think we should publish a teaser of Rita's biography under a pseudonym. It was Severus' idea, and I think it would work wonderfully before we can get it fully published."

Octavius, scratches his chin, nodding along to a line of thought that only he is privy to. "It makes sense, and it would work, even just to get people interested before it's fully released." He pauses, taking close look at me. "Why are you so tense, Helene? This isn't the first time Dumbledore has shown interest in you."

My breath hitches, remembering the way Octavius spoke of Black Magic, the sheer level of disgust he holds for it. I flinch away from his caring expression, making sure to look anywhere but at him, terrified beyond all belief that if I tell him of my talents I'll be disowned, kicked out of the family before I've even had a chance to enjoy it.

"Helene, Helene look at me," he says, stooping down to my level and gently holding my chin. I grimace at the feeling of his calloused fingers on my face, the sensation a little too close for comfort and reminding me of Lockhart, ignoring the fact that those memories have been stricken from my mind.

Octavius pulls his hands back, noticing my discomfort. "Helene, no matter what you tell me, I will always be there for you, understand? I know you haven't said it yet, and I know that I haven't said it yet, but I'm… I'm your father, and it's my job to be there for you. Nothing you say can tear me away from you."

I shut my eyes tight, holding back the tears that threaten to spill over in droves. "I'm… the reason Dumbledore is after me is because… I'm a- I'm a N- Necromancer," I stutter, ripping the band aid off as quickly as I can, averting my eyes from Octavius' most likely horrified face and staring dumbly at the ground.

"Oh."

I snort, a harsh, choking laugh escaping my lips. "I'm guessing that's it then, right? I'll be on my way, and I'll make sure to find somewhere to stay come summertime. I know I have plenty of properties," I murmur bitterly, turning around to leave.

I feel a strong hand grasp my shoulder and spin me around, forcing me face to face with Octavius. He looks conflicted. Deeply conflicted. I can see his warring thoughts, the way his eyes flick over me, his brow knitted together in a mix of confusion, love, and horror. "Don't go anywhere, you hear me?" He whispers, biting his lip. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

He drags me down to the sitting room, the both of us taking our seats that we took just a few years ago.

We sit there in silence, Octavius digesting the revelations that I've made, while I try desperately not to tuck tail and run.

After a few minutes Octavius cuts the tension with a verbal knife. "A Necromancer," he says, his voice strained. "A real, genuine Necromancer?"

I nod contritely, still refusing to make eye contact. "Yes. Apparently, you have to have been brought back by Death to become one."

"It makes sense. I don't like it, but it makes sense." He pauses thoughtfully, probably studying me, not sure what to make of his malefic adoptive daughter. "I don't hate you, you know."

I look up at him, unable to hide my confusion. "Why not? I remember how you spoke of the Black Arts, the way you revile them, the hate that you hold for them. Why would I be any different?"

"Because I know you're not evil," he interrupts, holding a hand out to stop me from beginning a verbal tirade. "After the way you reacted to the vile, vile thing that happened to you last year, I know for a fact that you're not and never will be evil. You regretted killing the man who violated you, you felt guilt for it. I know I wouldn't have, I would have been proud to have put the man down. I would have tortured him until he was just a mindless sack of flesh that was once human," he states emphatically, driving the point home by crashing his fist into his open palm.

"The magic that you may use? Yes, it makes me uncomfortable, and I would prefer to go my whole life without ever seeing it with my own two eyes," he admits. "But that doesn't mean that I want to go my whole life without seeing you."

Octavius stands up, crossing the distance between the two of us and sitting down next to me. "I fought tooth and nail to make you part of this family. I'm not about to let you go now." He lifts my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. "I love you Helene, I love you like my own daughter, because you are my daughter. I won't lie when I say I don't like what you've told me, but it doesn't change how I feel about you."

Sobbing, I clutch onto him for dear life, burying my face in his chest. He holds me for a while, just rocking me back and forth.

-::-

I must have dozed off, because when I open my eyes it's dark out and Sirius is lying next to me in his animagus form, snoring softly as he rests. I smile at him, running my fingers through his rough fur. He opens one eye lazily, quickly standing up and morphing back into himself when he realizes I'm awake.

He tilts his head awkwardly, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to put his thoughts into words.

"You know?"

"I know," he echoes, nodding silently. "I knew… I knew that what you were dabbling in was bad, but I didn't expect it to be the pinnacle."

I flinch at his words, turning my head away. Sirius… Sirius of all people doesn't understand it? He doesn't get it?

It makes sense, what with him running away from his family. If anyone would be a practitioner of the Black Arts I'd assume it would be the Blacks.

"Oh! No, no no no, Helene! I didn't mean it that way!" He says frantically, looking slightly ashamed. "Trust me, I was just… shit, how do I say this. I just meant that it came as a shock to me that you were studying Necromancy of all things. I would have expected Blood Magic, maybe the standard suite of Dark Arts, but not Necromancy, mainly because it would have been completely unheard of."

"I get what you mean. I didn't… I didn't really expect to be doing it myself, but, the magic just feels natural to me, like I was always meant to use it," I reply, one hand playing with my hair. "It's the power that the Dark lord knows not, there's no way it couldn't be. I'm the only person in the entire world who's able to use these spells."

"The power the Dark Lord knows not?" Sirius inquires.

"The prophecy. There's a part of it that says, 'they will have power the Dark Lord knows not.' I believe Necromancy is that power."

"Helene, I'm sure Voldemort has read about these things."

I shake my head. "But has he seen them? Has he felt them? Because trust me, words don't even begin to cut it when it comes to Necromancy," I retort, flicking my wand out and conjuring a pig.

Sirius looks on in confusion, although I notice a hint of pride for the ease in which I conjured the pig, not to mention the lack of wand movement or incantation. His look quickly morphs into abject horror when I cast corpse arms, watching in undisguised disgust as the pig is torn to ribbons, bits of flesh flying about the room in a manner disturbingly reminiscent of how Sirius tears open a present.

I vanish the mess, making sure that I haven't turned my room into a makeshift abattoir, before turning back to Sirius. He simply stares at the spot where the pig once was, a slightly green tinge to his face and his chest heaving from the sudden burst of adrenaline.

"That was…"

"Yes?"

"That was absolutely fucking horrific," he whispers, his voice raspy. "That's… that's one of the more… out there spells, isn't it? Please tell me that that's not a normal spell."

"I regret to say, that is in fact, a normal spell," I concede, having to prevent myself from laughing at his disgusted expression. "I felt the exact same way the first time I did that. You… you get used to it."

"I do not want to get used to that," he says pointedly, still staring at the empty floor.

"That's fair. It's a grimy, bloody, horrific field, and if Death itself didn't tell me to master it I never would have gone within a mile of Necromancy."

Sirius nods shakily, putting his arm around my shoulder and bringing me in for a sideways hug. "I love you to bits kid, but that was fucking terrifying."

-::-

Dumbledore was worried, more worried than he could ever remember being.

He was mystified by the girl's hostile attitude. Did she not know that her anger would lead to her own destruction? Did she not understand that he has the best of intentions for her? That he is the only person qualified to guide her, and that she must listen to his every word and work underneath his tutelage to become a light in the coming darkness?

He flicked his wand, righting the fallen chair and the few scraps of parchment that were tossed about in her fit of anger. What should he do? What could he do to convince her of her folly?

He lost his temper, and that was unacceptable. Dumbledore understood that, but the girl knew things that nobody knows. She had pushed buttons of his that hadn't been pushed in nearly eighty years. Like how did she know of him and Gellert? Where did she discover the prophecy? Where does she get the idea that he was manipulating her?

Yes, Dumbledore would readily admit that he had attempted to guide her towards her destined path. He had eased the road for her future travels and tasks. But… to manipulate?

No, I do not manipulate, he thought. No, I guide, I forge.

He believed that the horcrux must have been affecting her. Obviously, that was the issue. The magic of it must be leeching into her mind, moulding her into something wrong and twisting her against his benevolent will. She was bitter, much too bitter at the world.

Could her relatives really have treated her so horribly? Surely not. He believed that Petunia would come to love and care for the child as if she were her own. No one can ignore their own blood.

Yes, Petunia may have been a touch strict with Helene, but she never would treat a child in such a manner. Dumbledore had heard of the occurrence of child abuse in the muggle world but was unfamiliar with it as it was such a rare thing to come across in the wizarding one.

He wasn't aware that magicals were almost incapable of child abuse due to the bond that magic creates between a parent and child. That combined with his tendency to trust the good in people above all else led to him deciding that no, the girl must be deluded. A combination of rampaging hormones and a tainted soul shard was turning her anger towards him.

He paused, wondering about her previous bout of magic. She had glimmered for just a moment when arguing with him. He thought long and hard on that, a visible aura on a thirteen-year-old? That was something completely unheard of for someone her age. The power she wilds must be incredibly, and even though it was there for only a split second it should be enough for him to see what colour it was, to study her magic.

Was it red? That would mean an affinity for fire, a strong sense of justice. Perhaps blue? Water and ice, a controlled temperance? No, that couldn't be it. Not with her temper.

Maybe gold? He hoped. A prodigy in transfiguration and light magic like myself, a born leader.

He placed the tip of his wand against his temple, drawing out the silvery memory of their argument and placing it in his pensive, the ethereal liquid settling into the bowl with neither a splash nor a ripple. He plunged into it without hesitation, hoping to learn something from their encounter.

He settled into the blurry environment of the pensieve, the colours muted, yet not black and white, unlike older models of the convenient invention.

He watched over the argument again, studying Helene's body language. He noted that she was tense for most of it, even before she had sat down. She hid it well, and he didn't notice her discomfort immediately upon her entering his office. He made a note to keep her obvious dislike of him in mind when it came to future interactions with the girl.

Her features began to crack after he had mentioned her childhood, after he inquired as to how she knew of the prophecy. He wasn't sure how she found out as he had the orb in the Department of Mysteries heavily tracked and knew for a fact that nobody has touched it since it was placed there. Not that they could, of course, as only the subjects of the prophecy could move it once it had been recorded.

Nobody apart from Severus knew of the prophecy, and he would surely never tell her of it no matter how close they are. He trusted the man above all else, his ever-faithful spy. Severus would never inform her of it, he knew how vital the prophecy was to his plans, not to mention Severus didn't know the prophecy in full.

Dumbledore watched as her fury built, terrifying him. Such rage, such unbridled hatred in such a young girl, all of it directed towards himself. The horcrux must be affecting her. He would have to look into it as soon as possible and see if there was any way to supress the soul shard residing within her head, perhaps even cleanse her of it.

He felt his stomach knot.

If only he could rid her of it without a destructive method. His only theory was that Tom's killing curse would be what inevitably cleansed her soul of his own, a poetic form of justice if there ever was one. It made sense to him, of course. If that was what placed the horcrux there, it must be able to remove it as well. Dumbledore hadn't bothered to study deeply into the subject, instead having decided that that would be the only way in which the horcrux would be removed. Having decided it was the only way in which the horcrux would be removed.

Suddenly he saw it.

A flash of… what was it? Could that be?

"No."

No, it couldn't have been. It's not… that wasn't possible.

Her aura was black. Black.

"The Girl-Who-Lived is the Necromancer?"

azaira: The Room of Requirement isn't destroyed thankfully. Otherwise yes, everything in it would have been spat out into the seventh-floor corridor, most likely causing a large portion of the castle to explode.

antim1santhrope: Yeah, I goofed in my initial chapters in terms of having a believable set up for the whole gender switch, along with Helene not being the biggest fan of Dumbledore. I'm not necessarily going for any bashing, as the characters I'm writing are very different from canon at this point. I'm trying to focus on the characters flaws, emphasizing their wants and fears and how those emotions drive their actions. Thank you though, I'm glad you enjoy the story! Here's hoping I don't have enough plot holes by the end of it that it looks like swiss cheese.

kuriboh1233: I'm neutral on the Ron front, personally. I feel that he can be an interesting character if used correctly, but he wouldn't have fit in well in this story.

Bearmauls: Thanks! He is a bit unhinged, isn't he?

mateo84mm: I'm glad you're enjoying the story! I already have my pairing set in stone, but you guys are going to have to wait to find out who it is!

Edited, 12/06/18.