Rubeus Hagrid, according to Helen Potter, will always be one of the greatest men to ever live. He was gigantic with a bushy brown beard, beetle black eyes, and a rough dialect. Sure, he was a tad forgetful and on the dim-witted side, but in Helen's opinion that just made him more likable.
Within twenty minutes of knowing Hagrid he'd revealed Helen's status as a witch, given her an invitation to a magical school called Hogwarts, told the truth about her parents demise, threatened Uncle Vernon, twisted a long shotgun in to a pretzel, gave her the very first birthday cake she could remember receiving, and gave Dudley a curly pig tail. It was brilliant! Best birthday ever! They'd stayed the night in the shack on the rock before heading out for her school supplies the next morning.
Helen tried her best to dress up for the occasion. A white button up shirt too large for her and cut in a masculine style, was paired with dark-wash jeans that needed to be rolled up at the ankle and the belt cinched twice around her waist. She was dressed better than she had been in a while thanks to her new room, but the clothing was still honestly ridiculous on her. Hagrid didn't seem to notice though and that was one more point in his favor. Obliviousness was it's own blessing.
After riding back to the mainland, and finagling a bus to London, Helen helped Hagrid maneuver through the Underground while Hagrid blurted odd words like 'muggle' and 'portkey' and generally did a bad job of keeping the magical world incognito. Helen was starting to wonder how they'd stayed a secret so far, and she hadn't even seen it yet. Eventually, Hagrid and Helen ended up in a grimy little pub called the Leaky Cauldron that everyone else on the street seemed to pass without seeing.
An offhand comment about her name to the bartender ended up with people swarming her, trying to shake her hand and thanking her profusely. She was also referred to as the Girl-Who-Lived a lot and she hadn't the foggiest idea what that even meant. She was internally torn between basking in the attention like a flower in the sun or lashing out at the strangers for daring to enter her personal space. She compromised by smiling in a charming manner while trying to edge out of the room.
Hagrid introduced her to one of her future teachers who was also at the pub: Professor Quirrell. The guy was a wreck in Helen's opinion. He stuttered incessantly, wrung his hands together nervously, and if children were supposed to learn to defend themselves from anything more dangerous than a butterfly from this guy then they were all well and truly screwed. He also gave off a vibe that Helen just didn't like. It whispered across her skin, making her tense and sending her ADHD into overdrive. She must have scanned the room five times in his presence, not even sure what she was looking for.
Hagrid and Helen eventually escaped the masses to a courtyard behind the pub, where Hagrid whipped out the little pink umbrella that had given Dudley a tail, and tapped it to the bricks in a rhythmic pattern. Before Helen's very own eyes, the bricks shifted to form a grand arch that led to one of the strangest streets in existence: Diagon Alley. Vendors of all shapes and sizes were selling the strangest wares- everything from shaved unicorn horn (and unicorns were apparently real!) to spell books.
Their first stop was at the grandest building of the lot- a solid white marble bank called Gringotts. It was the fanciest building she'd ever stepped foot in, filled with grand oak desks, golden chandeliers, and a clever poem at the entrance that almost sounded more like a challenge than a warning. The floor was a bizarre mosaic that at first seemed completely random, but the longer Helen looked at it the more it began to resemble… a dark Greek helmet of some kind? Strange.
The goblins were rude, but Helen was more than used to rudeness considering whom she grew up with. More importantly, they were no nonsense and got straight to the point. It didn't take long before she was on a mining cart hurtling straight into the Earth. Hagrid looked ready to throw up everything he'd ever eaten but Helen was enjoying the wind running through her hair and the adrenalin such speed gave her.
They ended up in front of the Potter Trust Vault and Helen nearly had a heart attack when she saw the piles of gold sitting in there, all hers. She filled a sack with the strange coins quickly. They made another stop at vault 713 so Hagrid could pick up a grubby little package for 'Hogwarts business' before heading back to the surface. Helen made sure to exchange some of her gold for pounds before leaving. She was going to have trousers that fit her! Made for girls!
Hagrid was still looking a little green from the cart ride, so he sent Helen off to get her robes, while he went back to the Leaky Cauldron for a pick-me-up. Not the most responsible thing for a chaperone to do, but she was nothing if not independent. Helen Potter entered Madam Malkins with her head held high.
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Draco Malfoy was excited. This was it. He was going to Hogwarts, finally. He'd been waiting his whole life for his acceptance letter. He had it all planned out. He was going to get into Slytherin, get fantastic grades, be a star Quidditch player, and have a ton of friends. He was going to do the Malfoy name proud. But first, he had to finish his robe fitting.
Some silly woman was pinning his school uniform when a tinkle from the front door grabbed his attention. He was sequestered in the back for his fitting so he didn't have a direct eye line with the door, but he could still hear the new customer.
"Hello, dear. Are you here for the Hogwarts uniform too?" the voice of Madam Malkin inquired.
"Yes, ma'am. But I was also hoping to maybe get a few day-to-day robes? And definitely something to wear out if that can happen?" the new customer probed. She sounded young to Draco, maybe a girl his age? Perhaps this would be a good chance to start the 'have tons of friends' part of his seven-year plan.
"Of course, deary. What you're in is much too big anyway. Why don't you head on to the back, there's a boy getting fitted for his Hogwarts robes as well."
"Thanks."
Draco wasn't sure what he was expecting to come back there and join him but it certainly wasn't his first crush, which is exactly what he got. She had smooth, olive-toned skin, dark hair cascading down her back in waves, and the blush of youth about her cheeks. Her features were eye-catching, almost… regal in their perfect symmetry. Her eyes were emerald green and framed with lashes as dark as her hair. All the smooth and proper greetings he had drilled into his head by his parents jumped out the window. He'd never liked a girl before, he was only eleven after all, but he didn't think it would be this mind numbing.
She had a little smirk on her lips, as if she was used to this particular reaction from boys her age. She stepped up on the stool beside his, dressed in some sort of muggle get-up that was the only detracting part of her appearance, and he still had no words.
Madam Malkin bustled back with a charmed tape measurer that was already taking the beautiful girl's measurements and a uniform that she pulled over the girl's head to be hemmed. A sharp prick to his ankle from his own hem job brought him back to reality.
"Mal- Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," he stuttered, fighting off a grimace. Oh, if only his parents could see him now. They'd be ashamed.
She seemed to look him over for a moment, before letting her lip quirk into a little smile.
"Helen. It's nice to meet you, Draco," she replied formally. Draco didn't even notice that she left her last name out.
"Y-you too," he replied, blushing a bit. Draco pretended not to notice the two seamstresses sharing knowing smirks, most probably at his expense. He tried to keep the conversation going.
"You're a First Year too, right? Do you know what House you'll be in?" he asked. This was a safe topic, something he could work with. She seemed to pause for a second before humming non-committedly.
"I can't say that I do. How about you?" she deflected. Draco took the chance to fill the silence.
"Well, no one really knows before they actually get there, but I'm sure I'll be in Slytherin. My whole family has been for generations," he babbled. And on it went. Draco continued to ask questions, that Helen deflected and he shared just to have something to say. Helen was exchanging the Hogwarts uniform for a blood red day-robe when the topic of family came up.
"What Houses were your parents in?" he asked, hoping at least one of them was a Slytherin. That would up his chances of being in the same House as her.
"No clue. They died when I was young and the relatives I live with don't like to talk about it," she replied, voice a little sterner, as if daring Draco to continue this line of questioning. Draco wanted to drown himself right there for bringing it up. Or maybe the Earth would crack open under his feet and swallow him up. That'd work too.
"Oh, you poor dear," Madam Malkin clucked sympathetically as she exchanged the red robe for a green one that matched Helen's eyes.
"I'm so sorry," he squeaked, really meaning it and feeling like an idiot.
"It was a long time ago," she offered, closing the topic thankfully.
"You're done, Mr. Malfoy," the assistant that was helping him said. Draco didn't know whether to be sad that he couldn't talk to Helen anymore or grateful that he could walk away from his major blunder.
"I have to go," he mentioned to Helen, trying to be polite. "See you on the train?" he asked, almost hesitantly.
"I don't see why not. Have a nice day, Draco," she said, examining her reflection in the green robe. Draco thought it looked lovely on her.
XXXXXXXXXX
After getting her uniform and a few other robes, including the red one she was currently wearing over her muggle hand-me-downs, Helen met up with Hagrid again and they proceeded to decimate the rest of her school list. Spell books, potion ingredients, scales, a telescope, parchment, ink, and various other supplies were added to the trunk she'd bought until all that was left on her list was a wand and her pet. She was excited; a real magic wand was exactly what she needed to start feeling like a real witch.
Hagrid left her at Ollivander's, claiming he had to go get a surprise. Ollivander was an unsettling old man with white flyaway hair and ancient eyes. Helen felt over-exposed in his presence.
"I was wondering when I'd be seeing you in my shop, Helen Potter. It seems like it was just yesterday your parents were in here for their first wands. Your mother's wand was ten and three-quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."
"Of course," Helen murmured, feeling a little uncomfortable now. Ollivander seemed to stare at her intensely.
"Ah, I see. You have a spark of divinity about you, Miss Potter," he informed her.
"A spark of what?" she asked, completely bewildered. He gave a negligent wave of his hand.
"Don't worry, it will all become clear in time."
Then he started shoving wands into her hand. Many of them did nothing when she waved them, and others simply caused random bouts of destruction, which, while cool, weren't very productive. The lack of progress was depressing Helen, but Ollivander just seemed to get more excited.
"A tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find something. I wonder…" he muttered, mostly to himself. He headed to the dark recesses of his shop and emerged with a few boxes that seemed older than all the other ones.
He started passing her these wands and nothing happened until the third try. The wood was light, with a reddish tint to it and a handle beautifully carved to look like roses were twisting about the base. The tip on the other hand was pointed where most of the others where blunt. It looked sharp enough to poke someone's eye out. Helen loved it immediately. A warm feeling pulsed through her on contact with the wand. She waved it and blood red sparks exploded from the tip. Ollivander was shooting her a considering look.
"Curious… very curious…" he murmured. Helen was just about done with all his cryptic mumbling.
"What's curious, Sir?"
"You have a very rare wand in your hand, Miss Potter. A perfect foot in length, made of rosewood and the heartstring of a drakon," he informed her.
"A dragon?" Helen questioned, in interest.
"Drakon," Ollivander corrected. "Technically it is a type of dragon, but more… serpentine than what is widely considered a dragon today. English wizards refer to them as basilisks, but that is more of a title than a species. It literally means 'little king' in Ancient Greek, referring to their title of 'king of serpents' I believe. According to legend, the first drakon was a Son of Ares, the Greek God of War, who protected the Ismene at Thebes."
Ollivander was looking at Helen very intensely now, as if he was trying to convey something vitally important. Helen had no clue what he was trying to get at. It was an interesting legend, sure, but what did it have to do with her? After a moment of awkward silence Ollivander moved on.
"It's incredibly powerful, especially with offensive magic and transfiguration to an extent. I'll warn you now, Miss Potter, that rosewood wands are famous for being temperamental, and drakon wands even more so. This wand has chosen you, but it will not react so agreeably to anyone it finds… unworthy. Do not let your friends borrow your wand if you can help it."
"Yes, Sir," Helen agreed seriously. This warning sounded important, and she would heed it.
"Excellent. That will be seven galleons."
If there were any force in the universe that could trump cryptic mysticism, it would be capitalism. Helen handed over the galleons and left the shop with her new wand in its box.
Waiting outside the shop for her was Hagrid, who was holding something behind his back.
"Ya got yer wand, 'Elen? Good, good. I got ya a surprise. Happy birthday!" he rumbled, pulling a glittering cage out from behind his back. Sitting in the cage was a beautiful, snowy white owl with large amber eyes. Helen was struck speechless.
"Hagrid… This is… Thank you so much!" she squealed. She'd never gotten a birthday present before! Or had a pet! It was overwhelming, the whole day was. This was the greatest thing to ever happen to her, she'd never forget this day. Unfortunately, there was one more conversation they needed to have before heading back to Surrey, and it wasn't going to be pleasant.
Learning the truth about her parent's murder and her own lightning bolt scar, which she usually concealed through clever manipulation of her bangs, was hard. She was enraged that some crazy terrorist had murdered her family in cold blood, tried to murder her, and left her rotting in Dursley hell for ten years.
She was a little angry with the Wizarding World in general for proclaiming her some kind of hero while at the same exact moment abandoning her to the Muggle World. She was also angry that no one would say the guy's name. Why show him the respect? Why let him see their fear? She swore to always use his name to show she wasn't afraid of him. Well, except the 'Lord' part. He was no Lord of hers.
After Helen calmed down, it was time to return to the Dursley residence. She made Hagrid stop at a few stores in muggle London first (after removing her robe), and used some of her converted money to buy girl's clothes that fit her! Three pairs of pants, eight tops, some underclothes and her very first dress later and Helen finally let Hagrid escort her back home. She was deep in thought the whole return trip. She needed to come up with a way to get the Dursleys to drive her to King's Cross Station on September first. Her first instinct was to threaten them with magic. If that didn't work, well, her wand was rather pointy. There had to be a good threat of physical violence in there somewhere.
XXXXXXXXXXX
It turned out to be unnecessary. The Dursleys just wanted to get rid of her at that point, even if it was to magic school. They dropped her off before going to Dudley's appointment to get his tail removed, screeching out of the parking lot with all possible speed. Good riddance.
Helen struggled to find the proper platform as she wandered through Kings Cross in her new dark purple dress. Where the heck would they stash a train to magical school anyway? It couldn't just be out in the open, Lord knows the wizards weren't good at subtlety. This proved very true when she overheard a middle-aged redheaded woman throw out words like 'muggle' and 'platform 9 ¾' right in the middle of the station. Following her and her brood of five ginger children at a discrete distance, Helen learned the entrance to her platform was in a solid looking brick wall. Thanks Hagrid, that would have been nice to know.
Throwing caution to the wind, she ran in right after the last redhead, and was greeted with the sight of a brilliant, red scarlet steam engine. She struggled to get her trunk and owl-whom she had named Hedwig after a witch in her history book- on to the train until a pair of twins from the group she followed in popped over and offered to help. They had the same flaming hair as their mother, a shade darker than the other siblings who must take after their dad. They were completely identical with pert noses, upturned eyebrows, and mischievous smiles a mile wide. Helen knew they'd be trouble. She liked them already.
They introduced themselves as 'Gred and Forge' but had to hurry off to say goodbye to their family, leaving Helen alone in her compartment. She wasn't alone for long on that fateful first trip to Hogwarts though. The twin's younger brother, Ron, ended up joining her. He freaked out a bit when he caught a glimpse of her scar, and he whined quite a bit about his lot in life, but he also answered all her questions without making her feel stupid for being new to their world and reassured her that she'd be able to catch up. She decided she liked him.
They were visited, for a few minutes anyway, by a bushy-haired girl with prominent teeth. She was helping a boy named Neville search for his lost pet, a toad (ew), and stopped by to talk very fast, judge Helen for not being up-to-date on her own legend, and scold Ron for not being able to preform a spell his twin brothers pranked him with. Helen and Ron made the unanimous decision to steer clear of her. Neville himself also stopped by to mumble awkwardly about his toad, blush when looking at her, and then leave. Poor guy didn't have a confident bone in his body. Ron had only given her a brief overview of the four Houses, but she couldn't see Neville getting into Gryffindor any time soon.
The most entertaining visit had to be the reappearance of Draco Malfoy in all his platinum blond glory. He was looking for the 'Helen Potter' but when he discovered she was also Helen-from-the-robe-shop he turned into a stuttering mess. Helen knew that a lot of boys got crushes on her, many just a passing fancy, especially since she's never really returned any of them. There were a special few though, like Draco Malfoy, who got it bad. Part of her, the attention starved locked-in-a-cupboard-alone part, preened under the attention. The rest of her felt pity for the poor boys.
It turned out that Ron's family, the Weasley's, had a long-term blood feud going on with the Malfoys. The two boys immediately started picking at each other. Helen actually thought it was kind of hilarious, and decided to be friends with both boys. She liked them both well-enough, Ron a little more because he wasn't as infatuated with her, and more importantly her decision should set up interesting fights between the two in the future. Did helping perpetuate a generations long cold war between two families make her a bad person? Possibly, she'd rather not think about it.
Before long the train had arrived at their destination: Hogsmeade Station. Hagrid was there, gathering the First Years into boats. Helen shared hers with Ron and twin girls named Parvati and Padma Patil.
The first glimpse of Hogwarts was, and Helen hated herself for thinking this, magical. It was a grand medieval castle presiding over a large lake, with a magical forest in the background, all bathed in moonlight. There was no other word that would fit as well.
The boats took them right into the castle via an ivy-covered cave. There they met a stern witch in emerald robes with a harsh bun that practically screamed 'authoritarian.' She gave them all an abridged version of the Houses, much like Ron had. Gryffindor for the brave, Ravenclaw the studious, Hufflepuff the loyal, and Slytherin the ambitious. If Ron and Hagrid were to be believed, Slytherin was also the House for jerks, future terrorists, and parent murders who orphan little girls and leave them with their awful relatives. Maybe she was taking the description too personally.
After a chance encounter with some ghosts, the First Years were led into the Great Hall and serenaded by a talking hat that was going to read their minds. Helen really wasn't okay with this. She didn't want anything reading her mind and she definitely didn't want anything that mangy near her hair. If that hat really belonged to Godric Gryffindor, and had been here for one-thousand-years, than it had sat on thousands of heads! Did they clean it? Who knew! In the end, there wasn't really a choice. She'd just have to wash her hair extra-thoroughly tonight.
She watched as Draco got sent to the budding terrorist House like he wanted, and the chatty Granger girl went to Gryffindor. Ron seemed pretty put out by that. Neville Longbottom was the real surprise in Helen's opinion. How did that quivering pile of human make it into the 'brave' House? Neville was either a deep person with hidden depths yet to be explored, or the thousand-year-old hat was going senile. She would hedge her bets on the second.
Before she knew it, it was Helen's turn to wear the mangy hat and try not to cringe at the lack of hygiene. Whispers had spread like wildfire when her name was called, but she ignored them. The hat was so big it slipped over her eyes, and good Lord, she'd have to scrub her face within an inch of its life!
"Well, that's not very nice," chimed a disembodied voice in her head. This was getting worse by the second.
"Hmm, let's take a look then, shall we?" the hat sounded a little insulted. Helen almost felt bad.
"Plenty of courage, I see. Confidence as well. You are also of a keen mind, very strategic. You know what you want and plan on how to get it, oh yes. You are willing to use all resources available to you. There is much ambition, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you…"
"How about Gryffindor," she murmured very quietly so no one but the hat could hear, not really knowing how to think at it. She thought of her new friend Ron who'd probably end up there. She thought of his twin brothers who'd helped her with her trunk. She thought of the parents she'd never met, but Hagrid informed her were Gryffindors. She thought of the battles she fought everyday and how important it was to have courage in the face of all enemies. She even thought of how good she looked in red and gold. Gryffindor seemed like a solid option.
"Gryffindor? How about Slytherin? You could be great you know. It's all here, in your head, and Slytherin could help you on the way to greatness."
Helen snorted at that.
"Yeah, like the House at school I'm a part of is going to determine whether I'm great or not. Sorry, Hat, but if I'm going to be great, it'll be purely my own doing. Not because of who I shared a dorm with," Helen proclaimed resolutely, although still quietly. Her Sorting must be taking a long time, because people were starting to whisper amongst themselves. "If it makes you feel better, wouldn't the most Slytherin thing of all be to not go to Slytherin? No one will suspect the Gryffindor." The hat chuckled in her head, which was a weird sensation.
"Well said, Helen Potter, well said. If you're sure, better be… Gryffindor!" the hat shouted aloud at the end, and Helen practically ripped the thing off. Mind reading: not cool.
The red and gold table exploded into applause. The Weasley twins were singing 'We got Potter! We got Potter!' with glee and other Gryffindor's were giving each other high fives. Helen didn't understand what the big deal was. For all they knew, she'd be a shame on their noble House. Or maybe she'd be a credit. She hadn't quite decided yet. She went to go sit down, and ended up between newly minted Gryffindor Seamus Finnigan and Percy Weasley- another of Ron's brothers and a Prefect. Ron sat across from her when he joined the Weasley family tradition of getting into Gryffindor.
The Feast was wonderful in some ways, odd in others. She'd never seen so much food in a single place, let alone be allowed to eat it. The desserts had been even better, and she knew she'd have to watch herself or she'd get chunky quickly. What was odd, though, was the Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked like some sort of Gandalf impersonator that got kicked out of comic-con, but with worse taste in robes. Hagrid swore he was one of the greatest men alive (she opted not to trust Hagrid's judgment on this if only because he was actually one of the greatest men alive and couldn't possibly be impartial about such things) but after Dumbledoe's warning about the Death Corridor as it shall hence forth be referred to, she wondered if he was as senile as the hat.
When the Welcoming Feast was finished, the new Gryffindors were led up many sets of stairs to the painting (and astoundingly the paintings moved and talked!) of a large woman appropriately called the Fat Lady. Helen thought it must have taken serious self-esteem to let that be her moniker, she very much respected that painting. Beyond the Fat Lady was a cozy Common Room decorated in shades of crimson, with a large fireplace, and some truly comfortable looking furniture. From the Common room there were two doors that led up to the boy's and girl's dorms.
Helen shared her dorm with three other girls: Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and Hermione Granger. It became quickly apparent there was a bit of a disconnection between Hermione and the rest of them. Although she'd never had too much of a chance before Hogwarts, Helen loved joining Lavender and Parvati in what Hermione labeled 'frivolous nonsense.' They painted their nails together, braided each other's hair, and perused Lavender's truly impressive collection of fashion magazines. Sure, Lavender and Parvati giggled and gossiped more than Helen liked, but their shared interests overpowered Helen's occasional desire to tape their mouths shut. It also bummed Helen a bit to know that, although they were all friends, Lavender and Parvati were best friends, and it would occasionally make Helen feel like a bit of a third wheel.
Hermione, by contrast, liked to read. A lot. It certainly wasn't doing the girl a lot of social favors. By the time they were a month into school, Hermione had zero friends and the loneliness seemed to push her further into the library's embrace.
Helen was doing pretty well socially. Her and Ron were pretty close, and often partnered together in class. She was warm acquaintances with the other boys in her year as well. Neville was shy but unfailingly nice, Seamus was hilarious-usually without trying and often blew things up in the wackiest ways when doing magic, and Dean and her connected over their muggle up-bringing and what it was like to live in a new world. Helen wanted to connect with Hermione over that, but Hermione was busy. Reading.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Helen liked her classes well enough. Charms was a little theory heavy at the beginning, but it was getting steadily more exciting. Transfiguration was probably her favorite class at the moment. It came naturally to her, and she was usually able to take the assignments a step further with strong visualization. She was the first in her class to turn a match into a needle (followed closely by Hermione), but then she took it a step further by changing the eye of the needle so it was heart-shaped instead of a simple oval.
Professor McGonagall was delighted, or as delighted as the stern teacher ever managed to get, and awarded her five points. After class, she'd held Helen back to mention that her father, James Potter, had been a bit of a transfiguration prodigy and that he'd be very proud of her talent. Helen had practically glowed at the new information and praise.
Astronomy was rather interesting to Helen, especially the myths and legends behind certain constellations. History was boring and ran havoc on her ADHD. She could barely stay awake during her ghost professor's drone, let alone pay actual attention. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a joke. Quirrell seemed terrified of his own subject and his students. She'd heard rumors that the job was cursed and the professors often met sticky ends. Maybe that's what he's so terrified of. Either way she had constant headaches in his class.
Helen didn't like Herbology at all. It included getting dirt under her nails, wearing an ugly smock, and gardening- which was one of her least favorite Dursley enforced chores. What was there to like?
Potions was in a class of it's own. Helen was thoroughly convinced that Professor Snape, an unfortunate looking man with sallow skin, greasy black hair and a prominent nose, was bipolar and needed professional help. Sometimes he seemed to hate her, and would mock her work while taking points left, right, and center. Sometimes he was helpful and almost nice, like she was a Slytherin student. Most often, though, he just ignored her. Helen preferred this. Jerk Snape made her want to bash his head in with a cauldron and nice Snape made her want to run and hide. She did notice that no matter what mood he was in, he avoided looking her directly in the eye. Helen took this as a personal challenge, and the Battle for Eye Contact commenced every lesson. It was not a battle she was winning.
Eventually, Helen had to go to McGonagall and tell her about her dyslexia. She wasn't struggling too badly with the readings if she had enough time to work through them slowly, and she could listen intently enough in lectures to do the practicals in lessons. Ron was always willing to whisper instructions in her ear during Potions if deciphering them out of the text was taking too long after she'd confided in him. Ron had mentioned that the twins had a similar issue, although wizards didn't have a word for it, and promised not to tell anyone.
Truly, the only reason she even bothered to inform McGonagall at all was that their first round of essays was due and she knew her spelling was going to leave much to be desired. McGonagall hadn't pitied Helen a bit, much to her relief, and instead taught her a spelling correction charm. She'd warned Helen that she'd have to make a special request at the Ministry to use it for her OWLs, because it was otherwise against the rules to charm the exams in any way. Helen thanked her profusely.
The real highlight of all her lessons had to be flying though. She'd been a little nervous, considering everyone else seemed to have been flying all over the place their entire lives. Hermione and Neville were far worse, though. Hermione had stuck her head in Quidditch Through the Ages and splattered them all with random facts against their will to try and prep for the lessons. Neville had simply suffered in silence, looking pale and terrified when they walked out on the grassy pitch in two lines.
It turns out that Neville was right to be nervous, considering he accidently flew twenty feet in the air, panicked, fell and broke his wrist. Madam Hooch, the instructor, told them to keep their feet planted firmly on the ground and then left twenty eleven-year-olds with magical flying brooms as if that was going to work out in anyone's favor. Well, it did for Helen, but that was beside the point.
"Well, look what we have here," Draco stated triumphantly, a glass globe filled with white smoke clutched in his fist. "Longbottom's lost his remembrall."
"Hand it over, Malfoy," Ron demanded, hand outstretched. Oh goody, feud time!
"I don't think so, Weasley. Perhaps I'll leave it someplace for the stupid oaf to find. Maybe up a tree?" Draco sneered, obviously grandstanding for the Slytherins who were snickering quite meanly. Helen knew she had two options. Intervene and possibly gain enemies, or abide by bullying on poor defenseless Neville. It really wasn't much of a choice
Draco hopped onto the school broom and glided gracefully into the air, all the while taunting Ron to come and get him. Ron was hesitating horribly, probably thinking of Hooch's expulsion threat. Helen rolled her eyes; as if they'd expel you over a little extra-curricular flying. So much for Gryffindor bravery. Helen hopped on her own broom, prayed she wasn't about to make a total fool of herself, and followed Draco up.
As soon as her feet left the ground, Helen knew flying was something she would love doing for the rest of her life. The wind flowing against her face, the freedom, the weightlessness, the control; it was all wonderful and came completely natural to her. She leveled up with Draco easily, and gave a pointed look at the remembrall.
"I really don't want to have a fight, Draco. Please hand the remembrall over," she asked, with little inflection.
"Why do you care?" he asked, trying to buy more time. Helen remained unyielding.
"Because it's bullying and you know it. I'm not saying you have to be buddy-buddy with the guy, just don't steal his stuff."
Draco looked conflicted for a moment before his face seemed to shudder down in resolution. Oh dear, it seemed he was about to do something stupid.
"If he was a proper wizard, he would have been able to hover on a broom. If you're a proper witch, than you should be able to catch this." And then he'd lobbed the orb high and far because boys are stupid and he didn't want to lose face in front of his Slytherin friends in what Helen was understanding to be some sort of power play she'd interrupted. Helen had enough time to sneer at the blonde before she lay vertically on the broom and took off after the remembrall. One thirty-foot dive later and she was the new Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
Draco tried to apologize and explain himself but she shut him down. Sure, she'd probably forgive him eventually (when it was convenient for her) but now was not the time. Quidditch practice started to dominate Helen's schedule. Helen grew pretty close to Ron's brothers, Fred and George, with all the intense practice- as they were on the team as Beaters. She was almost able to tell them apart now. She knew one had a dark freckle above their left eyebrow that the other didn't. Now she just needed to attach the proper name to that freckle. If they'd stop switching names back and forth for a few days it would help her efforts.
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Before she knew it, Charms class on October 31st had arrived and they had the Halloween Feast that night. They were preforming the Levitation Charm on feathers, and Helen opted to partner with Seamus Finnigan in the hope of seeing his feather explode- she was not disappointed. Him blowing off his eyebrow was just an added bonus.
Unfortunately, that left Ron to Hermione Granger's tender mercies. She showed him up, he insulted her, she ran away crying, and now Ron and Helen were running through the school with a troll on the loose because Ron was insensitive and Hermione was over-emotional. Helen had snagged a steak knife off the dinner table for the sake of this rescue mission, and she was palming it nervously. They finally found the bathroom Hermione had locked herself in, while said ten-foot troll was visiting her.
Hermione was screaming her lungs out and hiding under a sink while the troll swung a giant club with intent to smash. Helen wouldn't really be able to recall what came over her in that moment. One second she was staring at the ugly behemoth and trying not to inhale it's putrid odor, and the next everything in her snapped like a rubber band. Her ADHD went haywire and everything began to slow down. Adrenaline flooded her body and she was overcome with a visceral need to end this threat before it ended her. Before she could over think it, Helen threw herself at the troll with a loud war cry, stabbing the ugly beast in the thigh.
The troll roared in pain and tried to kick her, but Helen rolled out of the way. She could vaguely hear Ron yelling at her to stop and Hermione yelling in general, but she paid it no mind. She had an enemy to destroy.
The troll tried to kick her again but she dodged while slashing at its foot. It raised its club for a swing, but Helen stepped handily to the side. This was almost too easy. Still, she had yet to figure out how to actually bring the beast down. Her slashes were superficial at best, and dodging only worked until the dumb brute tried to take a swing at Hermione again. The bookworm was frozen in terror, still under the sink.
Helen dodged another kick, but this time it gave her an idea. She circled around its legs and slashed at its ankle, hoping it was a weak point on trolls like it was in humans. She was half right. The troll roared in surprised pain and dropped its club in shock. It didn't go down though. Instead it began to try and grab her furiously, probably hoping to crush her in its meaty fists.
Hermione was lecturing Ron about the finer points of the Levitation Charm and Helen really wanted to know what he planned on levitating because it better not be her. She'd seen his feather, and she was not going to die at the hands of Ronald Weasley trying to do a Levitation Charm. It turns out he was levitating the troll's fallen club, which was surprisingly brilliant of him, and he let it go just above the trolls head, knocking it out. Helen wasn't going to let it go at that, though. Every instinct was telling her to make sure her opponent couldn't get back up, and that's exactly what she planned to do.
"Is it… dead?" Hermione asked, finally crawling out from under the sink.
"Just knocked out, I think," Ron replied, eyeing the troll wearily.
"Not for long," Helen declared as she stalked over to the dumb brutes head. She clutched her steak knife in a firm grip before bringing it down in a harsh stab right through one of it's closed eyes and into its brain. Dark blood seeped out from the socket. Hermione let out a short scream and Ron gaped in shock at her actions while the beast gave an all-mighty twitch before lying still. Helen left the knife where it was poking out of the troll's skull.
"Helen, why would you… what…" Hermione stammered. Helen gave her an unimpressed look.
"We couldn't let it get back up, it was a danger to the school," Helen said resolutely. Hermione seemed to hesitate for a moment before nodding. Ron's mouth was hanging open.
"Bloody hell, Helen. That was brilliant!" Ron shouted, still looking gob smacked. "Where did you learn to do all that?"
Helen shrugged, not sure how to answer. She hadn't learned, she'd just… known. It was instinctual. Helen didn't want to talk about it.
The professors chose that completely useless moment to storm in wands blazing. Professors McGonagall, Quirrell, and Snape took in Hermione's slightly fabricated story, and McGonagall ended up awarding them points for 'sheer dumb luck.' Helen wanted to scoff. That wasn't luck; that was pure talent.
Helen noticed the way they eyed the knife sticking out of the troll uneasily, but she was unrepentant. Would they have been so worried if she'd slashed it with a spell? There comes a time when all the professors have to realize that they live in a school full of immature children carrying deadly weapons in the form of wands and get over it. Wizards were perpetually armed. Such was life. Does using a knife actually make a difference?
After the troll incident, it was unanimously decided that the three of them would henceforth be best friends. There were just some things you couldn't go through together without bonding, and killing a mountain troll was one of them.
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The weeks blended together again after that, nothing really sticking out until her very first Quidditch game against Slytherin. The team captain, Oliver, was a total fanatic, and wanted to win more than anything. Helen wanted to win too, but mostly for the sake of victory in general and proving that she deserved her spot despite being a First Year.
The broom McGonagall had sent her worked like a dream, and she whipped around the field as cool wind blew through her braided hair, searching for the Snitch. There was a small detour where her broom was jinxed into bucking her off to her early demise, but as soon as it was back under her control she made a beeline for the Snitch, snatching it out of the air with her quick reflexes. Gryffindor won and the after party was awesome. Food and drink was supplied by the Weasley twins via the kitchens, and all the students partied late into the night until McGonagall showed up to kill the mood and send them to bed.
Ron and Hermione both insisted the one who tried to kill her was Snape. Helen wasn't so sure. Maybe he was in one of his 'I-hate-Helen' moods, but that still seemed kind of extreme. She supposed she'd have to look into it.
She also had to look into a little side-project of Hermione's. They'd accidently stumbled into the Death Corridor one afternoon, and ever since Hermione was determined to figure out what the three-headed-dog was guarding. Helen was dragged into scouring for information with her but she didn't think she was helping much, considering the dyslexia made sifting through old tomes incredibly difficult. Their starting point was Nicolas Flamel thanks to the ever-lovable and loose-lipped Hagrid. Other than that, they didn't have much.
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The days grew shorter and colder and Christmas break had arrived. The Weasley's were staying because their parents were off to visit one of their older siblings in Romania, but Hermione, Lavander, Parvati, and the rest of the boys were headed home. She'd have the dorm all to herself.
Christmas break turned out to be one long line of over-eating, snowball fights with the Weasley's, and chilling in the Common Room. She'd gotten presents for the first time ever, including a lovely sweater from the Weasley matriarch, a whittled flute from Hagrid, and a nail servicing kit from Lavender and Parvati. She'd even received a delicate glass figurine of a broom from Draco.
She'd distributed gifts as well, mostly generic things like candy and trinkets (and a book for Hermione of course) from owl order ads. Draco's gift had been a small note with the words 'I forgive you' scrawled across, as well as one of her transfigured needles- this one fashioned to look like a snake with the tail for the pointed end and the eye being made by the head curling around to touch the body. She thought he'd appreciate the snake motif.
The stand out present of the year was definitely the Invisibility Cloak. Apparently it had once belonged to her father, which made it even more valuable in her eyes. The note attached hadn't been signed, but Helen appreciated the person who returned her family's Cloak, whoever they were. Her first order of business with the Cloak was to go exploring, and it was on one of those little exploring trips that she found the Mirror of Erised.
She had looked into it, and was entranced by what she saw. On either side of her stood a man and a woman. The woman had fiery red hair and emerald green eyes, the exact same shade as hers. The man had messy dark hair, glasses, and a big smile on his face. Helen thought she could see some resemblance with him too. She also had dark hair-darker than his really- and she thought their facial structure was pretty similar. Where these her… parents?
As she stared more intently, two more figures where shimmering into existence: a scarred, handsome man with an oiled crew cut of night black hair (the same color as hers), wrap-around sunglasses, and a leather jacket and a woman beautiful beyond imagining who cycled through different hair and eye colors rapidly. Who were they?
Then things got stranger. More people started to appear in the background of the mirror, less prominent then the original four but still visible. There were some people who looked like the messy haired man and some that looked like the red-haired woman. These were the relatively normal additions that Helen supposed must be extended family. The rest were nut jobs.
Three imposing, dark-haired men were arguing while holding a trident, a Greek helmet, and what looked like a staff of pure electricity. Two women looked at them with exasperation, one with hair the color of wheat and the other the very definition of regal. There was a blonde teenager using a pair of white headphones to listen to music with a sunny smile. There was a girl about Helen's age with moonshine eyes in a silver parka next to a no-nonsense woman with grey eyes and a red-haired eight-year-old. There was a man with a leg brace and thick beard that had flames dancing through it and there was a curly-haired man with a mischievous look about him who was typing away on a cellphone and flying around with winged shoes.
Helen drew the line at flying shoes. She bundled herself up into her Invisibility Cloak and marched from the room. If that mirror wanted to toy with her by acting like it would reveal her family and then make up wacky strangers, she wouldn't go along with it.
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The second semester commenced cold and dreary. The homework load was steadily mounting and Helen was struggling a bit with all the reading, but she would not be defeated by floating letters. She ended up staying up later than most working on homework, but it was a worthy sacrifice if it meant not losing to her dyslexia. At least the spelling in all of her essays was impeccable.
The new semester also introduced Helen to a major bad habit of Hagrid's- namely, raising dangerous creatures in inappropriate places. Helen wouldn't say it to Hagrid, but she hated Norbert. He (who they would eventually discover was a she) made her skin crawl, like he was about to try and rip her face off. She was really relieved when they handed him off to Charlie Weasley's friends. The whole operation was actually a close call, considering Draco had figured out that Hagrid had a dragon and was going to rat on him until Helen intervened. She knew forgiving him was a good idea, it made him much more agreeable.
Between intense over-studying for the impending final exams, Hermione was still determined to figure out the secrets of the Death Corridor. Surprisingly, it was Ron who secured them their next clue, finding out that Nicolas Flamel was an alchemist off of Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog Card. It wasn't long before Hermione whipped out a huge tome that listed some of Flamel's accomplishments, and it was only a small jump in logic to determine that their mystery prize was the famed Philosopher's Stone.
That would have been the end of that if Ron and Hermione weren't convinced Professor Snape was trying to steal it. Helen could concede that someone was probably trying to steal it by the simple fact that it was incredibly valuable and being guarded by a freaking Cerberus! She just wasn't sure it was Snape, who was sometimes nice to her and was still winning their Battle for Eye Contact (not for long, she was a devising a new strategy).
Hermione did have some convincing arguments though; including Helen's near fatal first Quidditch match, a leg injury on the night of the troll break-in that she hadn't noticed and an intimidation campaign against Quirrell that Helen had overheard one night while scurrying around under her Cloak.
Still, none of their postulating really mattered as long as Dumbledore was around. Helen may doubt his status as one of the greatest men living, but the strategist in her could recognize that he had a powerful reputation: certainly strong enough to scare off potential thieves.
Finals had just ended (Helen had scored top in their class for Transfiguration, much to Hermione's discomfiture) when Dumbledore chucked the only thing he had going for him out the window: his presence. He had flown off to the Ministry for some bureaucracy demand or another, and now it was prime time for any potential Stone stealers. Hermione was in a tizzy, so they sought counsel with McGonagall, who did about what Helen expected her to as a rational adult and told them to stay out of it. Knowing they'd have to get proactive, Helen led her friends to her favorite source of information: Hagrid. A few carefully chosen phrases later and they were ready to get passed Fluffy (Hagrid had immense talent for understatement when naming things).
That night they headed out for the Death Corridor after subduing a well-meaning Neville (and there was that Longbottom courage she was starting to doubt existed). Helen played her flute to lull Fluffy to sleep, and then they descended into the trapdoor, fell a lot further than Helen was comfortable with, and then landed on a springy pile of plant. That plant happened to be Devil's Snare, which immediately started trying to strangle them. Hermione kept telling Helen to relax so the plant wouldn't try as hard to kill her but Helen was not going to relax when she was under attack! Luckily, judicious use of a fire spell made the plant back off but not before reminding Helen why Herbology was one of her least favorite classes.
They found themselves in a room with flying keys, which Helen found to be more of a game than a challenge. She snatched up the oldest one with a crooked wing, and they were through the door and onto a chessboard. Helen let Ron lead this leg. Helen was actually rather good at chess, tactical decision-making came naturally to her, but she didn't play nearly as often as Ron did. She'd let his experience win out here. It did, but at the cost of Ron nearly getting his head knocked off. The temptation to retreat and help Ron was strong, but he did not sacrifice himself so they could back down like wimps and make him getting thrashed pointless. They forged ahead.
The next room smelled disgusting and held a very dead troll. It seemed their thief was had been through and he or she knew how to properly handle a mountain troll. They continued, and found themselves trapped between two walls of flame with a clever little riddle for company. Hermione figured it out, but when it became clear that only one of them was going to be able to move ahead, Helen knew it had to be her. She sent Hermione back to help Ron and get a teacher, gulped down a potion that made her insides feel frozen, and stepped through the flames.
If Helen was being completely honest, she really wasn't expecting it to be Quirrell. Sure, she never liked the guy and she wasn't sold on Snape being the thief, but she had been banking on some sort of outside actor, not her pitiful pile of a Defense Professor.
"Surprised to see me, Potter?" he sneered, stutter free.
"Well yeah, kinda," she responded truthfully, rubbing at her scar. A headache was flaring up hard and fast.
"Of course, who would expect po-poor stu-stu-stuttering Professor Quirrell. I assume you thought it would be Snape? He was oh so helpful as a distraction, swooping around like an overgrown bat."
"Nah, I didn't think it was Snape. Does this mean you're the one who tried to kill me at my first Quidditch match?" she asked, stalling for time. She was really starting to wish she'd thought through this confrontation a little more before hand. All she was armed with her wand and a repertoire of First Year spells. She really wished she had a steak knife right about then.
"Very good, Potter. Beauty and brains; I'm sure your mudblood mother would have been so proud," he mocked. That brought a sneer to Helen's face.
"Someone in this room has to have them, and we all know it wasn't going to be you," she drawled, palming her wand.
"Be quiet, Potter. I have work to do," he commanded dismissively before turning to gaze intently into what Helen had just realized was the Mirror of Erised. Helen was pretty insulted. Did he think she was such a non-threat that he could turn his back on her in the middle of their confrontation and ignore her? Heck no. She had raised her wand to do…something… when a disturbing, high-pitched voice spoke from nowhere.
"Use the girl," it hissed. Helen did not like where this was going. Quirrell turned back around to face her.
"Come here, Potter!" he shouted. A wave of his wand later and Helen was rocketing into his punishing grip on her shirt-clad arm and forced to look into the Mirror again. The picture was about the same, the man and the woman she thought were her parents, the other couple who frankly confused her, and all the wacky strangers in the background. The only difference was that Mirror-Helen lifted her pointer-finger to her lips in the universal 'hush' gesture before dropping a blood red stone into her pocket. Helen felt a heavy weight appear in her real pocket a moment later.
"What do you see?" Quirrell demanded. Helen sneered at him.
"I see myself punching you in your stupid face," she heckled. Quirrell backhanded her for the cheek. Helen spat at him.
"She lies, let me speak to her," the disembodied voice demanded.
"Master, you are not strong enough," Quireell replied nervously. Master?
"I have strength enough for this," he replied. Quirrell shoved Helen away from him roughly, making her stagger. She brought her wand up to bear again, still not entirely sure what she was about to do with it. Quirrell's hand snaked up to his ever-present turban, and he began to unravel it. Helen found this to be a completely inappropriate time to regret his abominable fashion choices. Once it was fully removed, Quirrell turned so the back of his head was facing Helen, and she almost puked.
On the back of Quirrell's skull was a truly hideous face. It had squinted red eyes, a flat nose, was a horrid chalk color, and was rotting at the edges like a skin graft gone horribly wrong. The pain in Helen's scar exploded in agony but she ignored it.
"See what I've become, Helen Potter? This is your doing. I must live off the sacrifice of others, like loyal Quirrell here. He's been helping to sustain me with unicorn blood these past weeks, but I need a body of my own, one that can be provided by the Philosopher's Stone. Hand it over. Join me, and you can learn magic beyond your wildest dreams, far beyond what they teach at this poor excuse for a school. Join me, and we can bring your parents back. All you have to do is hand me the Stone."
It took Helen a minute to understand whom she was talking to, he seemed to assume she'd know, but when she did she was beyond angry. Who would blame her for leaving him bodiless? Who had legions of followers to call him 'Master?' Voldemort! Wasn't he supposed to be dead? She'd figure that part out later. Hagrid had mentioned that he might not have been as dead as everyone assumed. Right now all she wanted was vengeance for her dead parents and screwed up childhood. She wanted to see him hurt.
"Like hell I will!" she shouted, absolutely infuriated.
"Then prepare to die, Potter!" he hissed, dropping his little recruitment tirade. Good, she didn't want to hear it. Quirrell turned around to face her and lifted his wand.
"Avada-"
But it was useless, because Helen was already in motion. She threw her slight body at Quirrell with all the force she could muster, fully intending to shove her wand through his eye, just like the troll. She was beyond rationality. The thought that this would be legitimate murder of another human being didn't cross her mind. This wasn't cold-blooded killing; it was war. War meant death to the losing side and she was going to win.
They both hit the ground hard with Quirrell's wand sent flying from the force. She had a moment of visceral joy where she realized that Voldemort's parasite face just got a mouthful of hard stone when the back of Quirrell's head hit the pavement. Her hands reached for his throat. She knew strength wise she was no threat to a full-grown man, but the element of surprise had gotten her this far. She might as well keep going before he got his bearings back and shoved her off.
As soon as her skin made contact with his, Helen realized something strange was happening. His flesh was smoldering where it contacted with hers. He started shrieking in pain, and that just encouraged Helen to hold on tighter. The contact was causing her skull to absolutely pound but she wouldn't release him. He was going to kill her. She had limited mercy for Voldemort's puppet and none for Voldemort. Before long the burning spread beyond the points of contact. It was like he was crumbling under her touch. Twenty seconds more of screaming and Quirrell was nothing but a pile of dust. Helen stared at her hands in shock as she scrambled out of the dust pile. How had she done that?
Helen didn't have a lot of time to contemplate Quirrell's surprising demise, however, because the spirit of Voldemort chose that moment to rise from his former host and fly right through her, knocking her out cold.
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She woke up three days later to a smiling Dumbledore, a pile of letters and gifts, and a vicious headache. Her and Dumbledore had a lovely conversation about such topics as her mother lending her protection through her death, the power of love (which Helen wasn't ashamed to admit she found a totally legitimate power), Voldemort not being dead and continuously trying to rise back to power, the purpose of the Mirror of Erised, everyone knowing what happened in the Death Corridor, Ron and Hermione being relatively unharmed, and the Stone being destroyed. Helen got a little angry at that point.
"Are you trying to tell me that this whole year spent setting up protections and my fight with Voldemort was pointless because the Stone was just going to be destroyed anyway? This course of action didn't occur to anyone nine months ago? Now it's an acceptable option?"
Dumbledore looked pretty sheepish after that. Good. Hermione was right, wizards completely lacked logic.
That evening was supposed to be the final Quidditch match of the season against Ravenclaw for the Quidditch Cup. Technically, Helen wasn't supposed to leave the Hospital Wing but technically, she didn't care. She snuck down to the pitch ten minutes before the match was set to start, much to the team's joy. She rose on her broom quickly, feeling dizzy and weak but determined to win at all costs. She caught the Snitch in twenty minutes, ten of which included Madam Pomfrey yelling at her from the ground and demanding that Madam Hooch stop the match. She landed to a roar of approval from the Gryffindor stands, and then promptly passed out. It was totally worth it.
Her body was carried back to the Hospital Wing on the shoulders of her Housemates, and that was the day Oliver Wood declared his unwavering devotion to her.
Gryffindor won the House Cup handily that year thanks to the Quidditch victory (which earns points) and Helen, Ron, and Hermione's adventure in the Death Corridor. Even Neville won points for trying to stop a rescue mission and validating the Hat's decision to place him in Gryffindor (that may not have been the official reason). The Feast was delicious and Helen was borderline depressed that she was heading back to the Dursley's, where food was scarce and people enjoying her company scarcer.
As she got on the train to head back to her living nightmare, Hagrid stopped her. He reaffirmed her belief that he is one of the greatest people alive by giving her a photo album filled with pictures of her parents. She was right, the redheaded woman and man with glasses from the Mirror of Erised were her parents. She gave him a big hug before slipping into a compartment with Ron and Hermione, wondering what next year would have in store for her.
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So, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Look, I know no one enjoys a rehash of canon events. It gets boring. I thought about leaving these chapters out completely, but I couldn't do it, they are necessary to delve deeper into the characters of the Magical World, and to make sure everything is straight and established for future chapters. While most of the actions are relatively the same, the motivations and relationships are different because Helen is fundamentally different. For example, even though Helen is still best friends with Ron and Hermione, she's less desperate for friends than Harry was (because of her acquaintances and popularity in primary school) and more arrogant in general because of her divine heritage so she sees faults in them more easily and is rather condescending at times. Still, I didn't want to linger overly long on this stuff, so years one, two, and three are all one chapter each and the summer after third year is when things start to get exciting.
Helens wand is rosewood for Aphrodite, as one of Aphrodite's most notable sacred plants is the rose (technically rosewood isn't from rose bushes but is actually from tropical trees in the pea plant family, they call it rosewood because it smells like blooming roses when cut and has a reddish tint to it). The core is for Ares, who has a legend like Ollivander describes about his son being a drakon (which is a type of dragon) that protected Thebes. Basiliskos is the word basilisk comes from, and it is Greek for 'little king.' I took some creative license, however, when I made basilisks and drakons the same creature.
On another note, I made Helen a Transfiguration prodigy for two reasons. The first is that I wanted her to have that connection with James Potter, just as a reminder that she's still a Potter despite her complicated heritage. I also thought that it made sense for a Daughter of Aphrodite to be talented at changing the appearance of things. She'll also be handy with Glamour Charms when the story gets that far into her magical education for the same reasons.
Just hang on everyone, I promise we'll be getting to Camp Half-Blood soon. Until then, perhaps enjoy a few plot adjustments. If you thought Ginny's obsession with Harry in canon was bad, you should see how it's going to play out next chapter…
As a final note to this extremely long author's note, thank you so much everyone who has read this story so far. The feedback from the first chapter was overwhelming and I can't thank you all enough.