Beauty on the Battlefield

by underthemoonandstars

A Twice-Blessed demigoddess is born, and she's got a lot of work to do. Operating under multiple prophecies and fighting two wars, Helen Potter rises to the challenge with enough time left over to destroy her enemies and fall in love. Of course, nothing less could be expected from the Daughter of Ares and Aphrodite. Fem!Harry.

3. Snakes, Stalkers and Swords

After a year at magic school where she got to fly a broomstick, cast magic spells, and brew potions, life at the Dursleys was even more intolerable than it used to be. Sure, the threat of vindictive magic kept Helen's relatives in line for the most part, or at least away from her, but the isolation from the Magical World was taking it's toll. She hadn't received a single letter from any of her school friends, not even Ron or Hermione. She was torn between being angry with them all or self-deprecatingly upset. Did she do something that made them not want to talk to her?

She compensated by reaching out to some of her acquaintances from primary school. It was important that she reaffirmed those bonds if she wanted to keep a step ahead of Vernon and Petunia's never ending campaign against her in the neighborhood. They'd even tried to spread a rumor that she was off at some security facility for degenerate youth!

Luckily, between Helen's shining reputation and the work she'd put in to discrediting the Dursleys over the years; no one believed them. Honestly, the neighborhood was starting to consider the Dursleys a stain on their perfectly mediocre, cookie-cutter community. Helen thought it was hilarious and couldn't wait until the Dursleys found out. She'd pay good galleons to see their reaction.

Suffice to say, Helen had to give her own adjusted truth of where'd she been. She told them that she was at a boarding school in Scotland (true) named St. Anthony's (less true). St. Anthony's was actually the official false face of Hogwarts that muggleborns were advised to share with distant relatives and friends. It even had a mailing address where muggle letters could be addressed, and then tied to owls and delivered like regular (for wizards) mail at Hogwarts itself. Helen had learned about it from Hermione and Dean, as Hagrid had forgotten to tell her.

The Dursleys were furious that she was contradicting their story and making them look foolish and herself talented, but there was little they could do. Whenever they'd start in on her like they did before she got her letter, she'd simply flash them a peek of her wand, and their anger would be reluctantly quelled. Sure she wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school, but the Dursley's didn't know that.

They continued in that vein of forced civility until Vernon's boss and his wife were set to come over for dinner. She'd been shoved into her room with demands to be quiet and keep Hedwig quiet as well, and then left to her own devices while the Dursleys were downstairs pretending to be good, well-put-together people and not walking spite factories. Everything was going according to plan until the letter stealing house-elf named Dobby had shown up with dire warnings about returning to school. The bloody menace had used a Hovering Charm on the Dursley's dessert pudding and dumped it on their guest's heads.

Not only did she get in legal trouble for the charm, but she also got in major Dursley trouble as they discovered she wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school. Her trunk was locked up in the cupboard under the stairs and she was locked up in her bedroom. They'd even put a cat flap on her door so she wouldn't come out for meals and bars on her window- as if that was going to make the neighborhood think they weren't crazy.

She was being relegated to one cold can of soup a day that she had to share with Hedwig, and it was beginning to show. She was tired and listless and her already meager fat reserves were melting off her. She was actually starting to get legitimately worried for her health. One more day of this nonsense and she was going to scream and make a fuss at her barred window until someone called the police. Locking her up like this was inhumane and disgusting and the only reason she hadn't brought attention to it already was because she was in possession of magical objects that probably wouldn't go over well with the muggle authorities should they find them.

Luckily it didn't get that far due to the timely arrival of her knights with ginger hair astride their flying car. Ron, Fred and George helped her stage a spectacular breakout that included ripping the bars off the window, intense non-magical lock picking via George Weasley (which it turned out was the one with the telltale freckle) and her uncle falling out the second story window while trying to prevent her from leaving.

They'd driven all night to Ottery St Catchpole, which was the location of the most lived in house Helen had ever laid eyes on: the Burrow. They tiptoed in only to be caught by Mrs. Weasley. The boys had been scolded within an inch of their lives, but Helen had been welcomed warmly with a hot breakfast and several comments about how skinny she was.

Helen loved the time she spent at the Burrow. The house was positively dripping in familial love, and it made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside if she thought about it too much. The whole family had been warm and inviting for the most part (Percy spent a lot of time in his room but was still perfectly cordial) and she got to whittle hours away playing Quidditch, helping with a few household chores, finishing her summer homework, gaining some weight back under Mrs. Weasley's watchful eye, explaining muggle things to Mr. Weasley and even helping the twins a bit with their pranking. The only thing that made her feel a bit uncomfortable was Ginny Weasley.

Due to Helen and her both being young pre-teen girls, they shared Ginny's room and the awkward air was thick. As it turns out, Ginny was a big Helen Potter fan. Or at least, she was a big fan of the stories that she'd heard all her life about Helen Potter. She was also incredibly shy. Every time Helen would go to talk to her she'd turn bright red and rush out of the room. It got tiresome after awhile. She was used to a little stuttering and babbling, mostly from boys, but she'd never encountered someone who couldn't be in the same room as her because of it. Ginny made Helen's first meeting with Draco Malfoy seem articulate. Next time she stayed at the Weasley's she was going to finagle a way to stay with Ron or the twins. Heck, maybe even Percy.

Her glorious summer weeks with the Weasley's were capped off by the arrival of school owls, and a necessary trip to Diagon Alley where they were to meet up with Hermione. Helen ended up taking a tiny little detour to Knockturn Alley by way of a Floo Network mishap, and overheard some interesting haggling between Lucious Malfoy- Draco's dad- and the slimiest shopkeeper she'd ever seen. After sneaking out of the creepy curio store, she was rescued by Hagrid of all people and escorted to Diagon. Good ol' Hagrid, always there when you need him.

After meeting up with the rest of the Weasleys and the freshly arrived Hermione who were all freaking out about her disappearance, the group made their way to Flourish and Blotts- Hermione's favorite store naturally- where a book signing was occurring for the author of half the book list.

His name was Gilderoy Lockhart, and Helen knew he was a fraud the first time she laid eyes on him. Primped and polished to the point of being so artificial it was unattractive, Lockhart shot smiles at every woman he saw and the cameras twice as much. Helen knew without knowing how that Lockhart would never love someone as much as he loved himself and that was just sad. Or at least, she felt sad for him until he spotted her and forcefully pulled her on stage with him. All pity for the empty places in Lockhart's heart flew out the window.

"As I live and breath; Helen Potter! Smile big for the camera, together you and I have a shot at the front page," he exclaimed while trying to pull her to his side. She side stepped deftly, sent the camera a charming smile when she knew Lockhart was out of the frame, and then stepped off the stage with feigned humility.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly," she denied him, stepping closer to the safety of the Weasley's who were now shooting Lockhart poisonous glares for his presumptions. Well, the male ones were. Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and especially Hermione still seemed quite taken with him.

"Ah, I see, she's shy everyone," Lockhart recovered, laughing good-naturedly along with the crowd. Helen fought back a scowl, she was a lot of things, but shy was not one of them, not in any capacity.

Lockhart proceeded to announce that he was to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. Helen hoped the curse worked fast this year, she didn't want a touchy, vainglorious fool like him floating around all the time. The uproar from the announcement had gotten Helen shuffled away from the Weasley's once more.

"Helen, are you okay? That fool has a lot of nerve dragging you around like that," came the cultured voice of the newly arrived Draco Malfoy, who was apparently buying his schoolbooks as well. Helen turned to greet him with a smile. Draco had grown an inch or two over the summer, but the difference Helen noticed in him was the lack of stuttering or blushing. It seemed his crush had worn down some, seeing how unreciprocated it was. That was probably for the best, it increased their chances of forming a more genuine friendship. Unfortunately, it also lessened her influence over him. Pity.

"Draco, good to see you! Don't worry about Lockhart, I can handle myself," Helen assured him. His lip curled a bit in reference to Lockhart.

"That doesn't mean what he did was appropriate. I can't believe Dumbledore hired him to be our teacher. This year's Defense class is going to be awful," he sniffed haughtily.

"Probably," Helen commiserated.

"Draco, who is this you're talking too," interjected Lucius Malfoy, stepping up to his son's side. Helen recognized him easily from Knockturn Alley. He was like a tall, middle-aged Draco with gorgeous long locks of white blonde hair that would have made Helen jealous if her own mane wasn't so fantastic (at least in her opinion).

"Father, this is Helen Potter. Helen, this is my father: Lucius Malfoy," Draco introduced formally. They shook hands.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Potter. Draco has mentioned you in his letter's once or twice," Lucius informed. Helen saw Draco's blush out of the corner of her eye and smirked a bit. It would seem to be more than once or twice.

"All good things, I hope," she bantered back.

"Of course."

It was at that moment that the Weasley's appeared out of the crowd to close ranks around her, Mr. Weasley stepped in front of her protectively.

"Alright there, Helen?" Arthur Weasley asked, eyes never leaving Lucius, who was now sneering at the red head.

"Sure, Draco was just introducing me to his dad," Helen said easily, but she was absolutely riveted. The Weasleys and the Malfoys had a long-standing family feud, and while she'd seen it play out with Draco and Ron, she wondered how it would work between two professional adults.

It turned out to be even more amazing than she'd anticipated. Arthur and Lucius threw a couple verbal jabs at each other, Arthur reminding Lucius that he'd recently raided his manor, Lucius reminding Arthur about his struggling finances- going so far as to pick up one of Ginny's second-hand books in disdain before replacing it in her used cauldron. One thing led to another, and before Helen was sure what was happening Arthur and Lucius were exchanging blows right there in the bookstore while a clerk ran around and begged them to stop. It was glorious.

Helen had once wondered if perpetuating the feud in Ron and Draco would make her a bad person, but now she knew she was doing the right thing. She could only hope that one-day a forty-year-old Ron and a forty-year-old Draco would beat the stuffing out of each other in a crowded public venue and she'd be there to see it.

When the two adults were done embarrassing themselves and entertaining Helen, Lucius adjusted his expensive robes and prowled out of the shop as if he hadn't just abandoned all dignity. Draco scampered after him after an embarrassed wave in her direction

"Helen, you need to be very, very careful where Lucius Malfoy is concerned. He's not a nice man and he's always got an ulterior motive," Mr. Weasley warned, breathing hard. She agreed if only to keep his blood pressure down. After that incident the rest of their trip was positively dull.

The last few days at the Burrow were a whirlwind of preparations for the oncoming school year. Supplies were lost, rediscovered, and lost before they could make it into the right trunk. Fred and George were stealing Percy's Prefect badge and running around with it at least every other hour and Ginny had gotten even stranger. Somewhere in Diagon Alley she'd picked up a little black book, a diary, and she wrote in that thing incessantly. Sometimes she'd stare over at Helen for a bit before she'd start writing rapidly and Helen found the whole thing unnerving. She couldn't wait to be sharing a room with Lavender, Parvati, and Hermione again.

When they left in the family's magically expanded flying car, they were running quite late. As they approached the platform, Helen opted to go first. She wanted Ginny to be able to say a proper goodbye to her family, which seemed quite impossible in her presence. Helen jogged confidently at the hidden entrance, reassured that she'd sink right through the false brick. Her cart slammed into solid stone, recoiling back and smacking into her ribs with enough force to send her flying back half a dozen feet while Hedwig squawked from her upturned cage and the Weasley's all gasped before hurrying to her side.

"Helen, dear, are you okay?" Mrs. Weasley cried nervously. They were getting a few odd looks from passerby but the Weasley's ignored them in favor of crowding around a shocked and bruised Helen.

"I'm fine," she rasped, voice still surprised. It had hurt quite a bit but she'd had worse and she was pretty sure nothing was fractured or broken. It had just knocked the wind out of her. She slowly sat up with Fred's help.

"The platform! It's blocked!" called Percy from where was pounding against what was for all intents and purposes a brick wall. "This can't be happening. I'm a Prefect! I have duties!" he declared, starting to look panicked.

"And we all know how seriously he takes his doodies," Fred mocked under his breath. Helen snorted at the immature joke while regaining her footing.

"Oh no! We've missed the train!" Ginny cried in horror staring at a nearby clock that had just passed 11.

"Well, I guess that means no school this year, huh Fred?"

"Too right, George."

"I guess we'll just have to lay around-"

"Doing nothing but playing Quidditch-"

"And designing pranks-"

"And wrestling the ghoul in the attic all year."

"Such a shame, Fred, such a shame."

"Tragedy, truly."

"Will you two knock it off," barked Percy, looking irritated.

Ron saddled up next to Helen with her cart and a righted Hedwig hooting indignantly on top. Helen sent him a smile.

"Thanks, Ron."

"No problem."

Amongst the chaos was Mrs. Weasley, who was biting her lip in thought.

"I guess there's nothing for it, then. Arthur and I will just have to take a couple trips and apparate you all to school tonight. You could Floo if you didn't have the trunks. Oh, I'm so sorry Ginny! The first ride to Hogwarts is supposed to be special. I just don't know what happened to the barrier," Mrs. Weasley wondered while placing a comforting hand on her daughter's back. Ginny looked close to tears.

"Come on then, everyone back to the car. I'll have to send a letter to Professor Dumbledore and let him know what happened."

They all piled back into the Ford Angela in unhappy, contemplative silence. Ginny was sniffing miserably and Helen's first instinct was to comfort her but she was afraid Ginny would react poorly to it considering she hadn't said two words to Helen since they started sharing a room.

They puttered around in the house for a while. Percy muttered to himself about losing his chance to be Head Boy next year, while the twins talked to each other in whispers- probably over some new prank idea- and Helen and Ron played a few rounds of chess. After a whole year of playing together Helen finally had him on the ropes and she was going to enjoy this triumph. Ginny was in the kitchen with her mother, saddened by the lost opportunity to make friends on the train.

Mr. Weasley arrived home to help with the apparating just as Ron pulled a tricky maneuver from nowhere and claimed victory once more. Helen didn't know if she wanted to hit him or herself more.

Apparition, as it turns out, is an awful way to travel. It felt like she was being twisted through a small tube and when Helen and Mr. Weasley arrived at the Hogwarts gates she had to hold her hands to her knees for a moment so she wouldn't throw up while Hedwig squawked from her cage in Mr. Weasley's hand. He assured her that the first time was the hardest and it'd get better. Helen sincerely doubted that. In the grand scheme of things a little nausea was worth instantaneous cross-country travel, but that didn't make the experience enjoyable.

The others arrived with trunks in hand, one by one. The Weasley parents gave their heart felt good byes before disappearing with a crack and leaving the group to trek to the castle. Professor McGonagall met them at the doors, ordered them to leave their trunks in the foyer and go to their House table before sweeping away with Ginny. They were a few minutes early so they chatted amongst themselves while they waited for the rest of the school to arrive.

It wasn't long before students started trickling into the Great Hall and Helen was assaulted by a head of bushy brown hair in the most aggressive hug she'd ever been subjected too. Hermione had been nearly hysterical with worry when they'd missed the train, and was very happy to see them. The rest of Helen's year mates crowded around as she and Ron explained what happed. No one seemed to have an answer as to why the barrier had malfunctioned.

The First Years were herded into the room, and the sorting commenced after another strange song about the Founders. Helen wouldn't tell the Weasley's, but she was kind of hoping Ginny would be sorted somewhere other than Gryffindor. She didn't dislike the young girl, she just didn't fancy six years of stammering and covert looks across the Common Room.

No such luck, Ginny became a Gryffindor, much to her brothers' pleasure. The feast proceeded normally from there, and it wasn't long until Helen was lying across her bed and chatting with Lavender and Parvati about their summers while Hermione did a little pre-bed reading.

Parvati and Padma had gone to India to visit some family, and Lavander had spent a lot of time giving and receiving music lessons. Helen had gotten to know last year that Lavander was actually a rather accomplished harp player of all things and one of her dreams was to play for an audience in every capital city in Europe. So far she'd checked London and Paris off her list, and she told Helen she might get a chance to travel to Amsterdam over the winter holidays and play. Helen was happy for her friend; the harp was such a romantic instrument.

XXXXXXXXXX

Classes started, and it was all very reminiscent of last year. She continued to excel in Transfiguration above everything else. McGonagall had even started to give her supplementary assignments of harder material so she wouldn't get bored and let her ADHD run wild. Helen had kept these a secret from Hermione, no need to rile her academically competitive friend up.

Helen was also putting more effort into her War for Eye Contact. Her latest strategy was to step up behind Professor Snape quietly so when he whirled around he'd automatically make eye contact with her. So far such behavior had gotten her three instances of eye contact and one scathing lecture while he stared at her forehead. Progress.

Herbology was still awful. They'd started working on these horrid plants called mandrakes that looked like disgusting mutant dirt babies with a deadly cry. Even Neville, who was a big fan of Herbology and the best practical student in their year, hated the things.

The big stand out was by far Defense Against the Dark Arts, though. Quirrell, for all of his faked incompetence and being possessed by an insane mass murder, had a very good handle on the theory, even if his lectures where nearly incomprehensible at times. Lockhart, as Helen had predicted, was both incompetent and an idiot. Their first lesson included a quiz about his favorites and hobbies, and releasing a hoard of Cornish Pixies on the students.

Helen had immediately jumped into action once the pixies had stolen Lockhart's wand and chucked it out the window and she'd finished laughing at him. She'd wielded Voyages with Vampires like a baseball bat and bashed the little menaces to and fro. A pair had kidnapped Neville and hung him from the ceiling before she could defeat them, but his noble sacrifice was honored when Helen bashed those two out the window to join Lockhart's wand.

Hermione seemed to decide that Helen had had enough fun for one day, because she used the Immobilization Charm on the rest of them, and stuffed them back into their cages with Ron's help. The rest of the class and Lockhart had fled the scene already, and Neville's uniform finally ripped and dropped him back down to Earth where he belonged, so that problem fixed itself. Every subsequent class had been Lockhart acting out scenes from his books. At first, he'd tried to get Helen to come up and join him, but Helen had glared at him with such fierce intensity that he'd backed down immediately. She hadn't known it, but it had looked like little emerald green flames had danced in the miasma of her irises for a moment.

XXXXXXXXXX

Quidditch approached quickly with Oliver Wood becoming more fanatical than ever. Apparently, having won the Cup last year made Oliver very reluctant to part with it. Helen was in agreement; their team was fantastic, there's no reason they shouldn't win. The Gryffindors had been heading out for their first practice of the year when they were accosted by the Slytherin team.

Composed primarily of tall, male upperclassmen; the Slytherin Quidditch team cut an imposing figure. Their captain, Marcus Flint, was an aggressive boy who Helen would bet had a bit of troll blood in him based on how he looked. He was also Oliver Wood's archenemy.

"Flint! What are you doing out here? I've had the pitch booked for weeks!" Oliver barked, glowering at his green-clad nemesis. Sensing confrontation, a few of the Gryffindor spectators started coming down to see what the problem was. Helen easily spotted Hermione and Ron headed her way, along with that strange First Year who took his camera everywhere.

"Special permission from Professor Snape," Flint called mockingly, holding up a piece of parchment with the Potion Master's signature for Oliver's perusal. "We need time to train our new Seeker."

"New Seeker? Who?" questioned Alicia Spinnet, eye's narrowed.

"Me," drawled the unmistakable voice of Draco Malfoy, as he stepped out from behind his much larger teammates. Helen would give credit where credit was due: the Slytherins knew how to make an entrance.

"Malfoy," Ron growled, starting to turn red already.

"Weasley."

"Draco," Helen chirped cheerfully, cutting through the tension abruptly. Both the Slytherins and her fellow Gryffindors sent her disgruntled looks for interrupting their macho showdown.

"Helen," he said cordially, sending her a small smile. Marcus Flint cuffed him on the back of the head.

"Don't fraternize with the enemy," he grunted.

"Don't worry, Flint," Helen continued sweetly. "Draco knows that, despite our friendship, all bets are off in Quidditch. If the chance arises, I will destroy him," she finished with a smile. It was all teeth, and she took the widening of the Slytherins eyes with dark humor. Flint recovered the quickest.

"Good luck catching him. Or any of us for that matter," Flint grunted, bringing his broom to bear. For the first time, Helen really paid attention to the brooms the Slytherin's were wielding. They all matched, unlike the mish mosh of the Gryffindor team, with dark wood and sleek bristles. On the side, written in fancy, silver cursive was the name: Nimbus 2001. "A gift. From Draco's father," Flint finished triumphantly. Oliver looked ready to have a coronary.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent," Hermione asserted. Helen wanted to smack her own forehead. That slight against their ability was going to push the Slytherins too far; especially considering Hermione wasn't actually on the Quidditch team, or even a talented flyer. As predicted, the Slytherins bristled as one and the competitive spirit of the confrontation leaked out to reveal the persistent bitterness and tension between the Houses that has existed for centuries and was exacerbated by the last war.

"What would you know about talent, you filthy little Mudblood," Draco stated coldly. The effect was immediate. Fred and George lunged forward, barely being restrained by Alicia and Angelina. Katie shrieked in outrage, Oliver got in a yelling match with Flint about 'controlling your team' and Hermione raised a hand to her mouth in shock, eyes quickly filling with tears. Ron's reaction was the most aggressive. He raised his wand in Draco's direction. Helen tilted her head to the side in mild curiosity to see where this all went.

"You take that back, you git!" Ron roared. The camera kid, Colin Creevey, was taking pictures like mad in the background.

"Or what Weasley? Are you going to curse me with that secondhand wand of yours? The unicorn hair is poking out, can you even do magic with it?" Draco sneered. He had a point. Ron's wand had seen better days. It had always been beat up but the last few weeks had worn it down to the point that Ron's spells had started to warp as a result. He'd tried to transfigure a hedgehog into a pincushion last week and ended up melting it instead. The horrifying shrieks of the little animal had haunted their class since. Ron had thrown up in horror.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" Ron barked with bravado, but Helen could see how nervous he was. The possibility of Ron melting Draco was sobering. Helen decided to step in, if only to prevent a murder. If she thought they could have had a normal duel, she would have been delighted to watch them fight it out, but even she had her limits.

"That's enough," she barked with all the authority a little twelve-year-old girl could muster. Surprisingly, everyone froze and gave her their full attention. Helen capitalized on the opportunity, a little stunned her command had any effect at all.

"Ron, put your wand away. I'm not covering for you when you accidently kill someone. Draco, you should have realized someone was going to accuse you of buying your way onto the team when you happen to get on when your dad gives a donation. It's a logical conclusion; get over it. Hermione, don't dish it out if you can't take it. Creevey, if you take one more picture I'm going to snap your bleeding camera in half. Oliver, are we practicing or not?" Helen questioned, forcing all of her attention on her captain, who seemed to be surprised by the sudden attention he was receiving.

"Uh…" he sent a covert look at Flint, who just seemed confused at this point.

"You take the first hour, we'll take the second?" the Slytherin compromised after taking one look at the glare she was aiming at him.

"Sure," Oliver said, still sounding a little stunned. He shook his head like a wet dog, and turned to the rest of the team, who were all staring at Flint in outright shock, as was the rest of the Slytherins. "Gryffindors in the air. Now!"

Helen kicked off the ground easily as the Slytherins walked back to the locker rooms and the spectators to their stands, happy to get away from the whole confrontation. What was the world coming to when she had to be the peacemaker? It was surely going mad if she was preventing a confrontation instead of supporting one. Stupid Ron and his stupid, messed up wand.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione had been distant with Helen since the Quidditch practice confrontation. She never said more than a few words at a time, and although she wasn't outright avoiding her, she never sat next to Helen in class or at meals if she could help it. Helen had to corner her in the bathroom they'd fought the troll in to get her to talk about it.

"Why didn't you defend me when Malfoy called me… that word?" she'd asked tearfully. Helen would have sighed if she weren't positive it would only make the situation worse. That's what this was about?

"Hermione, all he did was call you a name. I thought you'd be strong enough to take it," Helen stated reasonably. She really didn't understand what the big deal was. Mudblood was just a word. No different then freak or abnormal or abomination, which had been spewed at Helen for her entire childhood. Names only hurt if you let them.

"It's not just a name, though, Helen!" Hermione exclaimed, becoming passionate quickly. "It's a racial slur! He devalued me as a person for something I can't control. It's a sign of how muggleborns are regarded as inferior, how we are treated as less in the Wizarding World!" Hermione's chest was heaving in quick breaths and her eyes were watering again. Helen felt her heart melt a little bit in the face of her friend's genuine distress.
"Hermione, you know you are far from inferior," Helen said softly, looking Hermione dead in the eye. "You're the best in our class, one of the cleverest students in the school. You outperform Purebloods in your sleep. You can't let a single nasty word tell you otherwise. When you do, you give them power to hurt you. Ignore it and you take that power away from them, you win the fight without even trying."

Hermione was sniffling, but she looked contemplative.

"Did you mean it, when you said you thought I was strong enough to take it?" Hermione asked, looking unsure. Helen nodded decisively.

"Of course. You don't need me to fight your battles for you. I know you're strong. Now you've just got to show everyone else," Helen said resolutely. Hermione cracked a small smile and Helen knew everything would be okay.

XXXXXXXXXX

After that, the year had dragged on as usual until Halloween. The trio had been invited to Nearly-Headless Nick's five hundredth Deathday party, and Hermione had talked Helen and Ron into stopping by, even though Ron had refused to stay there for the entire Halloween Feast. They'd huddled together in the freezing dungeons, making small talk with the Hogwarts ghosts and staying as far away from the rotting food table as possible until the Headless Hunt had showed up to be jerks, which Helen, Ron, and Hermione took as their cue to leave.

They had been heading up to the Feast when Helen first heard the voice. It was an echoed whisper from the floor above them. Hissing about killing and feeding. Helen didn't think about it, she'd immediately followed the voice up to the next floor, hoping to prevent someone from dying or… being fed on? Hermione and Ron struggled to keep up.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped dead in her tracks. Hanging from a torch bracket, stiff and staring at nothing, was Filch's precious cat and bane to all students: Mrs. Norris. Next to the feline body was a message written in dripping red that invoked thoughts of blood.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware."

Hermione and Ron were staring in shock on either side of Helen, taking in the image with clear horror. All three pre-teens were knocked out of it when they heard the rumbling sound of approaching voices. Helen had a feeling this was going to go bad very quickly. A hoard of students leaving the Halloween Feast stopped short when they saw the trio standing before the horrific message. The group was dead silent.

"What's going on here? Huh? Get moving you brats," came the scratchy tones of Filch as he pushed his way through the crowds. Of course, of all possible adults to show up, it had to be him.

"What are you staring at? What's-" Filch cut himself off when he finally caught sight of his most beloved pet.

"Mrs. Norris? What- What happened? WHAT DID YOU BRATS DO?!" he bellowed in rage and grief. His hand lashed out, and suddenly he had Ron by his collar.

"Was it you?! You and those horrid brothers of yours! Thought you could kill my cat, did you? I'll have you hanging by your thumbs in the dungeons for this! I'll kill you!" Filch sprayed spit into Ron's pale and terrified face, shaking him by his collar in rage.

"Argus! Release Mr. Weasley," demanded the aging tones of Professor Dumbledore. His face was grave, and he'd barely raised his voice, but the commanding tone was unmistakable, and Filch dropped Ron like a sack of potatoes. Helen was a bit envious. She wished she could inspire such instant obedience by modulating her voice. Professor's McGonagall and Snape stood on either side him, looking at the scene grimly. Helen vaguely thought the trio appeared to be some sort of academic entourage.

"He killed my cat! He killed Mrs. Norris and he was caught, right here at the scene of the crime! Him and those girls!" Filch ranted, pointing an accusing finger at Helen and Hermione.

Professor Dumbledore took a step closer to the feline, examining her closely through half-moon spectacles before turning back to the group at large.

"She isn't dead, Argus. Merely petrified," he announced. This didn't seem to alleviate Filch's ire in the least.

"Petrified! My cat's been petrified! You brats petrified Mrs. Norris! I saw you here, right at the scene of the crime," he barked, glaring at the trio heatedly.

"That doesn't prove culpability," McGonagall defended, looking to the Headmaster for back up.

"But it does raise the question of why they were here, and not attending the Halloween Feast with the rest if the school," Snape pointed out in sly tones. Helen nearly rolled her eyes.

"We were at Nick's Deathday party. There's an entire dungeon full of ghosts who can tell you that," Helen said, tone unwavering. She was not going to be accused of ending the bleeding cat if she didn't even get the pleasure of actually doing it. That just wouldn't be fair.

"It couldn't have been them. I hesitate to say it could be any student. Petrification is complex and dangerous magic, well beyond what one can expect from Second Year students. Prefects, please lead your Houses back to their Common Rooms, Professors stay behind," Dumbledore commanded.

Helen, Ron and Hermione were shuffled off with the rest of the Gryffindors by Percy; who was giving orders and comforting upset students simultaneously, truly in his element as a pompous, bossy older brother. Apparently, Dumbledore's declaration of their inability to petrify a cat was defense enough, because they weren't asked to stay behind, which was a relief because Helen could hear the grating voice of Lockhart entering the fray, boasting about how he could of saved Mrs. Norris if he'd arrived a little earlier. A little part of Helen was almost a little bit insulted that Dumbledore thought her so incapable of freezing a cat.

Once they reached the Common Room they were hounded by their housemates for more information, but there really wasn't much of a story to it. They'd only found the cat a minute or two before everyone else had shown up, and Helen was unwilling to discuss the voice she'd heard, even with Ron and Hermione. She was smart enough to know that, even in the Wizarding World, hearing voices wasn't a good thing.

The rest of the school was abuzz with rumors about the Chamber of Secrets for the following days. Everyone wanted to know whom the enemies of the heir were, and the Slytherins were more than willing to tell them it was muggleborns. Hermione was quite upset about this, but she seemed to take Helen's words from earlier in the year to heart, because all she did was raise her head high, and walk around like the rumors didn't affect her at all. Helen was proud as hell.

XXXXXXXXXX

No one could accuse Ares of being a hands-on father. The Ancient Laws forbid it and quite honestly, Ares was a firm believer in his kids fighting their own battles. That's not to say he hadn't stepped in every once in awhile. A gifted weapon here or a blessing there wasn't unheard of. He always made sure to claim the ones that proved themselves in a fight. His kids were expected to be the best warriors, the best fighters, and the best soldiers, no matter what those Athenian brats thought. Usually, they lived up to his expectations. His kids, as extensions of himself, were awesome on principle.

Ares was also prone to playing favorites, as most of the gods were. When you have as many kids as they do, every single one of them can't stand out, and there's even instances of gods outright disliking some of their children. Good luck getting Apollo to talk about Halcyon Green or Hades to mention Adolf Hitler. Ares had his own galleries of least-liked children and favorites. As he gazed upon the flying form of his daughter, Helen Potter, for the first time since her birth Ares got the distinct feeling that he was looking at his new favorite.

He had disguised himself as a fifteen-year-old Gryffindor student and joined the stands for the first Hogwarts Quidditch match of the season. Creative use of the Mist meant no one looked too closely at him, or realized they'd never seen him before. Ares was a fan of Quidditch for it's violent nature and high injury rate. Any game that included high velocity steel balls trying to knock your head off was okay in his book. It had nothing on gladiator fights or chariot races, but it was enjoyable in it's own way (although a single ball being caught by a single player on a seven person team being worth one-hundred and fifty points was bullshit and everyone knew it). This wouldn't be the first time he'd looked in on one of his children, especially the ones with exciting lives. Being immortal got boring at times, and demigods tend to court drama and intrigue.

Ares was already somewhat invested in Helen, even if this was the first time he'd seen her. Aphrodite had been unable to procure a blessing from Eileithyia, as she had insulted her years earlier and had yet to be forgiven. So it was up to Ares to better the chances for their unborn demigod child to make it through birth alive, seeing as the Twice-Blessed rarely did. He'd coaxed and prodded and wheedled and eventually Eileithyia had caved but only if Ares agreed to bless her only living demigod daughter. Ares had capitulated easily, curious why the Goddess of Childbirth wanted a war blessing on her child. Eileithyia said she had a feeling her daughter would need it someday and left it at that. That day, Lily Potter was blessed with an easy and successful birth, and Elizabeth Goode of Boston, Massachusetts was blessed with the skills of a warrior.

This was a lot of effort for a god who generally didn't have much to do with his children until they were old enough to decapitate a Cyclops or stab a Hellhound, so Ares decided to look in on his investment. He was pleased to see that she resembled him somewhat, her hair was the same inky black and her skin was similarly tan. She was gorgeous of course; all the children of Aphrodite were, with regal features and striking green eyes that he vaguely remembers seeing in the face of her mortal mother. She still had a childish cuteness about her that he supposed would melt into womanly beauty in the near future. She was skinny in a way that reminded Ares of long battles with short rations, the hollowness that took time to fill in again, and it displeased him. Were her mortal relatives not capable of feeding her, or did they simply choose not to?

He knew she wasn't living with her mortal parents, knew they were dead. How could he not when their deaths had ended a war? Ares remembers being rather proud when he heard. His infant daughter had won a war before she was old enough to speak in full sentences. It was a very good record; he had rubbed it in Enyo's face for weeks, his sister being one of a few immortals to know about Helen's existence along with Eileithyia and his five children with Aphrodite: Eros, Anteros, Phobos, Deimos and Harmonia.

He wanted the emergence of a Twice-Blessed demigoddess to be dramatic, he wasn't going to tell the rest until he and 'Dite claimed her at Camp. She would be attending Camp, of course, to properly train. He'd already had her name written down on the list to be picked up. The limited number of demigods being born outside of America meant Satyrs were only sent out every few years to other countries, and generally only picked up demigods on specific request, mostly Olympian kids as the reduced number of monsters made it nearly pointless to train any of the weaker demigods to live outside the Heart of the West.

Ares tracked Helen across the sky as she dodged a Bludger aimed at her head with ease. Her reflexes were good, and she was a natural flyer, obviously comfortable in the domain of both her immortal grandfathers: Zeus by him and Ouranos by Aphrodite. Ares watched the same Bludger Helen had just avoided turn unnaturally and go rocketing towards his daughter again. She swerved out of the way, still looking for the Snitch. So, the Bludger was cursed to go after her then? That ought to make things interesting, and it would certainly be a good test of her skill. After all, Ares didn't fight his children's battles.

The Bludger rounded on her a third time, and Ares could see her eyes narrow in irritation with his advanced eyesight. The Beaters on her team seemed to have realized something was going on, because they flew to her side and tried to bat the Bludger away repeatedly and protect their Seeker, but the distraction was costly. The other Bludger, which was behaving as it was supposed to, had been hit by a Slytherin Beater and nearly knocked one of their Chasers off her broom. Helen noticed and motioned the two Gryffindor Beaters to go protect the others. The twin Beaters seemed reluctant to listen to her, but his daughter was insistent and the boys complied. Helen wanted to handle this on her own.

He watched an idea spark in her eyes as the cursed Bludger chased her. She was trying to look for the Snitch, keep an eye on the other Seeker, and dodge all at the same time, and it was accomplishing very little. He watched her speed up and fly toward the Slytherin goal posts. She dove sharply before pulling up, getting the Bludger off her tail for a few precious seconds. She used those to pull herself parallel to the Slytherin Keeper, turn, and face the Bludger. She hovered there, waiting as the steel ball came whistling through the air toward her and the Keeper looked on in confusion. At the very last second, Helen dropped through the air on her broom. The ball flew right through where Helen had been hovering and sped right into the Slytherin Keeper, knocking him clear off his broom and twenty feet down to the pitch. There was a roar from the Gryffindor stands and a round of nasty booing from the Slytherins. Ares felt a bloodthirsty grin spread across his face. His daughter was smart, creative, and ruthless enough to take out a player in a manner some would dub 'unfair.' He liked her more every minute.

She swooped away from the newly unguarded hoops, the Bludger once more turning to follow her. She seemed to spot the Snitch and made a quick dive toward the pitch, following a dancing gleam of gold. The other Seeker seemed to notice it as well, as he pulled up parallel to her, chasing the Snitch. He smacked into her purposefully a few times, and she gave back what she got, neither above pulling dirty tricks at this point as the Bludger gained on them and the Snitch continued to avoid them both. They had to make a quick turn to keep up with the little gold ball, and it brought Helen into the line of the Bludger. With a resounding crack the steel ball smacked into his daughter's right arm, breaking it.

Ares watched her reaction carefully, and was pleased when she barely flinched at the injury. She leaned down on her broom, hooked the unbroken upper part of her injured arm under it to anchor herself, and then reached out with her left. She snatched the Snitch to thunderous applause, and continued to dodge the persistent Bludger. The twins were now free to defend her, and they batted the ball away repeatedly until one of the Professors had the good sense to destroy the damn thing. Helen landed victorious, right arm hanging uselessly at her side, left grasping the Snitch triumphantly. A Professor walked up to her and tried to heal her arm, but Helen side-stepped him easily, and she should, Ares could tell he was incompetent just by looking at him.

Over all, Ares was satisfied with what he was seeing. She was determined, capable, could take a hit, and was ruthlessly strategic. He couldn't wait for her arrival at Camp. She'd wipe the floor with monsters, demigods, and anyone who crossed her path. Viciously pleased, Ares sank into the crowd of departing students, disappearing as if he'd never been there at all.

XXXXXXXXXX

Helen had to visit the Hospital Wing after her successful Quidditch match. Madam Pomfrey had her all healed in ten minutes, and Helen was glad she managed to avoid Lockhart's attempt at 'healing.' She would have probably ended up in the Hospital Wing a lot longer that way.

After her release, Helen made her way to the Gryffindor Common Room where the victory party was in full swing. Helen wasn't quite ready to party yet though, she had a camera-happy ingrate to handle. He'd been all over her at the end of the match, and frankly, she was sick of it. Spotting Colin Creevey in the corner of the room, Helen made her way toward the First Year before anyone could stop her to congratulate her performance on the game.

"Creevey, we need to talk," she said tersely, looming over the small boy where he was seated. Colin looked at her in wide-eyed admiration.

"Helen! You were so good at the match! I've never been to a Quidditch game before but-" he started babbling before Helen cut him off.

"Colin, shut up," she ordered. His mouth snapped shut with an audible click. "You've been taking a lot of pictures of me, and it needs to stop. It's creepy and uncomfortable and you need to knock it off," she asserted. He looked at her wide-eyed.

"I just wanted proof I'd met you, you know? I mean, you're so famous and pretty and I'm just a muggleborn First Year…" he trailed off. The enthusiastic, mousy kid looked so pathetic that Helen could practically feel herself melting to his puppy dog eyes against her will.

"You're too harsh on yourself, Colin," she sighed, sitting down across from him to take this from a list of angry demands into a conversation. "It doesn't matter if you're muggleborn, and trust me, everyone who cares if you met me knows we're in the same House. You don't need photographic proof," she chided.

"It doesn't matter?" Colin asked, eyes wide. Helen couldn't believe she was having this conversation again.

"Of course not, anyone who says it does is an idiot, brainwashed, or is only saying it because other people expect it of them, not because they agree. I'm going to be honest, it'll be hard, and you'll have to deal with a lot of idiots who try to use it against you, but you can't let stuff like that shape your behavior. You can't let it get you so worked up that you become a stalker," she said with a pointed look at his camera. Colin had the decency to blush.

"I think some of it… I mean… I was just so excited to be here…" he rambled, looking calmer than Helen had ever seen him at school. Helen much preferred this Colin Creevey.

"It's okay to be… enthusiastic. I love the Wizarding World too, with everything I have. You just need to mind yourself and how you affect other people," she explained patiently. He nodded his acceptance. She clapped her hands together.

"Excellent! Then there's really only one more thing to discuss. What have you been doing with all those pictures?" she asked. She was debating whether or not she was going to have to raid the boy's dormitories to make sure there wasn't a cache of super embarrassing shots of her.

"Oh, I keep all of my photos in a box, I'll go get it!" he announced before bouncing away. Helen leaned back into her chair to wait for him, tapping her nails against the arm. The Bludger had scraped some of her red nail polish off; she'd have to fix that tonight.

Colin reappeared, simple wooden box in hand. He handed it over with a blush.

"They're, um, not very good," he stuttered.

Helen took the lid off, and was surprised by what she saw. Hundreds of pictures resided inside the box, some moving and some not. There were breathtaking landscape photos of the Hogwarts grounds, stunning sunrises, and amazing nature shots. Colin had even managed to capture a distant photo of a unicorn. It didn't take long until Helen found a picture of herself. The sun was behind her head, giving the Helen in the photo an incandescent glow. She found another, and another and another, all of them complimentary. He always captured her good side.

"Colin, these are amazing," Helen said, picking up a picture of sunlight reflecting off the Black Lake. "You have a real gift."

It was true. Helen had always appreciated beauty in others, in art, and in nature itself. Colin had captured the beauty in everything he'd photographed, even things that weren't themselves overly beautiful, like the Whomping Willow. Colin blushed harder.

"You think so?" he asked shyly. Helen nodded her head vigorously.

"Yeah, I bet you could even sell some of these," she said, and then realized her mistake a moment later. "But not the ones of me. You do not have permission to do that, you understand?" she asked sternly. The last thing she needed was Colin Creevey selling photos of her. She gave Colin a hard look, and he nodded quickly.

"Right, don't sell photos of you. Got it. Um, I did give a few to someone who asked, though," he said hesitantly. Helen was instantly irritated.

"Who? she demanded.

"Ginny Weasley. She asked for a couple a few weeks ago. Five or six I think. Maybe seven… or eight."

Helen felt her eye twitch and didn't try to stop it. Of course it was Ginny.

"I'll handle Ginny. You are not going to give anymore away. You are definitely not going to follow me around anymore, and so help me Colin if I find out you've sold any I'll make you eat your camera. Understood?" she asked, bringing the conversation back to the demanding tone she'd originally intended. Colin nodded like a bauble head.

"Yes, of course, no more photos of you. Understood," he said quickly. Helen narrowed her eyes, looking for even a hint of deceit. She found none.

"Good."

And she walked away to join the party and let Hermione fret about the cursed Bludger. The next day, Colin would be found petrified, the first human victim of the Heir of Slytherin, and there would be a persistent rumor that Helen had been seen threatening him the night before. She never denied it, technically she had threatened him, and lying would only throw more suspicion on her. Still, the rumors didn't get really bad until the dueling club.

The school decided that having a dueling club would be a good idea in such troubling times. Helen thought this was a good idea. They also decided to let Lockhart run it. Helen knew this was a bad idea. He pranced around, dropped his wand, gave Professor Snape an excellent chance to work out some frustrations and teach the room the Disarming Charm, and paired them up to fight each other with very little instruction. Helen was paired with Pansy Parkinson, who hated her for some unknown reason. She'd summoned a snake to attack Helen, Helen told the snake to back down, and then suddenly half the school thought she was the Heir of Slytherin.

Helen could almost understand their reasoning. She was a Parselmouth (the technical term for talking to snakes), she'd threatened Colin (as far as they knew, no one was sure on the particulars of their conversation), and she'd been at the scene of the crime where Mrs. Norris was petrified (although no one had seemed to care at the time of the attack and were only now bringing it up).

The school had been broken down into factions and public opinion was straying wildly back and forth. The Gryffindors vehemently defended her, glaring at anyone who even alluded to the idea she might be the heir. Similarly, the Slytherins denied it as well, but more because they found it insulting that someone would think the Heir of Slytherin could possibly be a Gryffindor.

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, on the other hand, were terrified of her. They sat as far away as possible from her in class, tried not to make eye contact with her (they weren't nearly as successful as Professor Snape in that endeavor), and whispered nasty things about her behind her back. Helen had made a game of walking up behind people when they did that and clearing her throat. The look on their faces when they were caught was always hilarious. This unfortunately backfired on her when she caught Justin Finch-Fletchley out, and then he was petrified the next day along with Nearly-Headless Nick. She seriously could not catch a break with her timing. The Hufflepuffs became even worse after that, the only exception being Cedric Diggory.

Cedric Diggory was a handsome Fifth Year with a sunny smile and light brown hair streaked with natural blonde highlights. He'd personally apologized to Helen for his House's behavior and accusations, and assured her that he was doing everything he could as a Prefect to try and stop them. Helen had shot him her most charming smile and assured him everything was fine, while her heart fluttered in her chest. Cedric was just so cute and so sweet.

She'd reported the fluttery feeling back to Lavender and Parvati that night, and was met with squeals of excitement. According to them, she had a crush on Cedric. It didn't take a lot of convincing for Helen to think they might be right. She'd never been afraid of her feelings, and even though liking a boy was relatively new territory for her, she'd been liked by many other boys before, so she wasn't really uncomfortable with the whole crush concept, this was just a new role for her. She settled into the role rather well, in her opinion. She appreciated his looks from afar, smiled if she caught his eye in the hallway, and giggled about how cute he was with Lavender and Parvati but never with Ron and Hermione despite them being her best friends. Hermione still found it to be silly nonsense and Ron was too… Ron. No. Never with Ron.

XXXXXXXXXX

Speaking of Ron and Hermione, they were thoroughly convinced that the Heir of Slytherin had cursed that Bludger and had it out for her. They were also convinced that the Slytherins knew who the Heir was and that the only way to get them to talk would be to brew illegal Polyjuice Potion and sneak into their Common Room in disguise. Helen had disagreed and suggested they just walk up and ask the Slytherins if they knew anything. Ron had nearly gone ballistic, insisting they would lie and that Draco was probably the Heir himself. Helen had laughed in his face. She was getting to know Draco rather well this year, they partnered in Potion's sometimes just to see the look on Snape's face (apparently he was Draco's godfather of all things), and if she knew anything about Draco, she knew that he wouldn't be able to not brag about such an exulted lineage. Nope, Draco was out of the running, but he might know something.

This search for knowledge was why she was marching over to the Slytherin table during lunch, a week before winter holidays were set to begin. She was getting bizarre looks from just about everyone in the Hall, Ron himself knew her plan and had his head in his hands, moaning about how they'd eat her alive while Hermione clutched a textbook in fearful anticipation. Helen made sure to smile at Cedric as she passed the Hufflepuff table, never one to miss an opportunity. He smiled back, looking thoroughly amused at the ruckus she was causing.

Having reached her destination, Helen plopped down on the bench across from Draco who was flanked on either side by Crabbe and Goyle. To her left was the beautifully impassive face of Blaise Zabini and to her right was Daphne Greengrass. Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson sat to Daphne's right and Theodore Nott rounded off their lunch group on Blaise's left. They were staring at her in various states of surprise, but she just smiled and reached for an apple as if she always joined them for lunch.

"Afternoon, everyone," she greeted, rolling the apple in her hands. This seemed to snap the Slytherins out of their shock.

"What are you doing here?" sneered Parkinson, looking rather upset with Helen's presence. Helen put on her best innocent expression.

"I only stopped by to talk of course. Draco, how is your day going?" she asked with all civility. She tried to keep a politely curious expression on her face, but she couldn't help the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Uh, good?" he answered looking unsure.

"That's nice to hear."

"Okay, Potter. What are you really doing here?" Daphne interjected, obviously fed up with Helen's games. Helen let out a long-suffering sigh.

"This is the thanks I get for civil conversation? Harsh. Well, straight to the point then. I want to know everything you guys know about the Heir of Slytherin," she stated bluntly. She received a round of raised eyebrows.

"We don't know nothing," rumbled Crabbe. Helen almost fell off the bench in shock. So he actually could talk. His grammar wasn't the best but it was still a worthy discovery.

"Yeah, I actually don't believe that. It's the Heir of Slytherin. If anyone is going to know anything, it would be the Slytherins," she pointed out.

"Even if we did know something, why should we tell you?" asked Blaise Zabini in a smooth voice. Blaise was a lot like her in the respect that he was eye-catchingly attractive. It wasn't the charming, athletic attractiveness that Oliver had, or the proper, aristocratic beauty of Daphne Greengrass, or even the roguish charm of the Weasley twins. It was the classic beauty of ancient statues, perfectly proportioned and carved from stone. It was beauty to be appreciated, and turned into a weapon if one was smart enough. Helen was sure he was smart enough, just as she knew she was.

"Because I'm taking a lot of heat for his extra-curricular activities, I think I have a right to know, if only to clear my good name," she replied, still casual. Anger wouldn't help her here.

"How do you know it's a him?" Millicent Bulstrode questioned, having caught Helen's pronoun.

"Heir implies male. Which is another reason it can't be me, of course. I'm an heiress, I wouldn't have mistaken my gender in my threat," she said faux-reasonably.

"Unless you wanted to throw someone off the trail," Draco pointed out.

"If changing heiress to heir is the only thing I'm doing to get people off my trail than I obviously haven't thought through this whole school-wide petrification plot enough." Several of the Slytherins around her actually cracked a smirk at that.

"Fair enough. Still, this seems like pretty important information to you. What do we get out of sharing?" Daphne asked, the quintessential Slytherin.

"The warm and fuzzy feeling of doing a good deed?" Helen deadpanned.

"Maybe this isn't a question of gaining something. Maybe this is more of a chance for her to prove herself," came the quiet voice of Theodore Nott. Nott was a weedy boy, skinny and tall for his age. He was also quiet and generally bookish as far as Helen could tell, although not to Hermione levels.

"Prove myself how, exactly?" Helen asked, a little intrigued. She made sure to look Nott straight in his light brown eyes.

"You want Slytherin only information? Prove yourself a Slytherin. Meet us in our Common Room tonight at seven," Theodore Nott offered. Helen felt a toothy smile spreading across her face.

"And of course, you won't tell me where that is or how to get in," she filled in the blanks for everyone who was failing to see the problem. Flashes of understanding went around the group and even a few satisfied looks, as if they found this an appropriate compromise. They must think it incredibly hard to get into their Common Room.

"It's not proving yourself if we give you everything you need to know," Nott said drily. Helen nodded in graceful acknowledgment.

"Challenge accepted, Theodore Nott."

And with that, Helen took at sharp bite of her apple before forcefully coercing Draco into a discussion about potions like this was completely normal. The others decided to play it off similarly, except Pansy who looked like she was about to explode.

That evening, Helen snuck out of the Gryffindor Common Room under her Invisibility Cloak much to Ron and Hermione's discomfiture. They'd both begged Helen to reconsider marching straight into the Snake Pit but Helen was having none of it. She wanted information; she'd go get it. The Slytherins didn't intimidate her, and quite honestly, she wasn't so different from them. The Sorting Hat had been rather insistent that she would fit in there, and Helen believed it to be right. The silent fighting, the mind games, their rather ruthless natures were all things she'd seen in herself at one time or another. She figured she could find friends in the Snake Pit, and one day it may become very valuable that she does.

She stood at the top of the stairs that led down to the dungeons, silent and invisible, and waited for Slytherin students to pass her by. She didn't have to wait long for a pair of third year boys to go strolling by, laughing and chatting. She started following them, trying to muffle her footsteps as much as possible. Helen was beginning to understand why the other Slytherins thought this would be such a challenge, once they got past the Potion's classroom, the dungeons became a labyrinth of stone with so many twists and turns it's amazing any Slytherin First Year ever managed to find the Common Room.

The two Third Years stopped in front of a completely blank stretch of wall, whispered something, and then entered the newly separated bit of wall that closed immediately behind them. Helen cursed; she'd been too far behind them to hear the password or sneak in before the entrance closed. She shucked her Cloak off and stuffed it into her backpack, which she'd brought along for that express purpose. No need to announce that she had an Invisibility Cloak to the world.

She ran her hand along the blank stretch of wall, deep in thought. What would Slytherins use for their password? She tried a few words, like 'silver', 'green' and 'snake' but it wasn't getting her anywhere. Her finger ran over a rough spot in the wall, and she stopped to look at it. A little carved snake was curled in the corner of a stone. It gave her an idea. She was a Parselmouth, and it was famously a trait of Salazar Slytherin and his descendants, which is why she was getting into so much trouble with her peers. What if there was some sort of failsafe for the Common Room, so a Slytherin descendent would always be able to get in? A Parseltounge failsafe? Helen concentrated on the snake, trying to imagine it as a living reptile; she'd only ever managed to speak snake in the presence of one before.

"Open."

Helen could barely here the hissed undertones in her word. It mostly sounded like English to her. Apparently it wasn't though, because the wall split open smoothly, revealing the Slytherin Common Room to the young Gryffindor. She threw her shoulders back, raised her head high, and stepped confidently into the Snake Pit. It was as green as its Gryffindor counterpart was red. It must have been at least partially under the lake, because all the natural light was filtered green and the windows looked out into an underwater landscape. The furniture was just as nice as that in Gryffindor, but the Slytherin Common Room seemed more ornate somehow. It had silver chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and elaborate wall sconces to hold torches. Helen liked it.

She spotted the Second Years all huddled up in the corner of the room. She saw books, pieces of parchment and stray quills stacked up on the surrounding tables as if they had been working but got bored and decided to chat instead. She headed in their direction, adopting an uninterested expression.

"So, did I pass your test?" she asked, startling the group, who looked at her in surprise.

"Helen, you got in!" Draco said sounding pleasantly surprised. Helen sent him a smile as she slipped into the only empty armchair between Daphne and Millicent.

"I did indeed," she replied. "I believe that means you all have some information to share."

"What exactly did you want to know?" Theodore Nott asked, staring at Helen in a new light. He looked like he was on the verge of solving a rather complex puzzle.

"Everything you can tell me about the Chamber of Secrets or the Heir of Slytherin," she answered promptly.

"Why? So you can stop the attacks? They're just Mudbloods, I don't see the big deal," Pansy sniffed. Helen rolled her eyes.

"It's a big deal because I'm getting blamed for something I didn't do. If the attacks don't stop they're going to be looking for someone to accuse so they feel productive, and that someone could be me," Helen argued. She also wanted the attacks stopped because some of her friends were muggleborn, but that argument wouldn't get her very far here.

The Slytherins seemed to have a silent conversation amongst themselves before coming to a decision as a group. Draco straightened up importantly.

"We don't know who the Heir is exactly, but we do know this isn't the first time the Chamber has been opened. Back in the forties, it was opened and attacks started happening just like now, all aimed at the Mudbloods," Draco shared.

"It was said that Slytherin never wanted them to go to Hogwarts in the first place. They didn't know our traditions, didn't appreciate magic as a gift from the gods, so they didn't deserve a place here. He argued with the other three founders and had a vicious duel with Gryffindor, and then left the school," Blaise continued for him smoothly.

"They say he left a monster behind though. A monster only he or his descendants would be able to control, in a place only they could get to: the Chamber of Secrets," Millicent continued. Good Lord, had they rehearsed this? The staggered story telling? Helen had to put a lot of effort into keeping her face blank and not cracking up at the thought. Daphne picked up were Millicent left off.

"The purpose of the monster would be to cleanse the school of Mudbloods, especially those that don't conform and practice the Old Ways. It's been down in that Chamber for one-thousand years, waiting for the Heir of Slytherin to release it to purge the school, according to legend."

"The story doesn't stop with the legend, though, as Draco said" Theodore interjected, a conspiratorial look on his face. "In the forties, the Chamber was opened, and attacks started happening just as they are now, petrifications of the Mudbloods. They were going to shut down the school, especially after one of the victims died. They didn't though, a student caught the culprit, the monster fled into the forest, and the supposed Heir was expelled," Nott finished. Helen caught something inconsistent in his wording though.

"Supposed culprit?"

"My grandfather was here during the attacks, and told my father about them, who told me. I know who they expelled, and there is no bleeding way they are the Heir of Slytherin. He had to be a scapegoat," Nott explained. The rest of the group look surprised, like Theodore hadn't mentioned it to them before.

"My father wouldn't tell me who it was, I can't believe yours did," Draco said sounding somewhat insulted.

"Who was it?" Daphne asked. Helen leaned forward in anticipation.

"Hagrid."

"You're joking, " Helen stated in disbelief. The very idea that naïve, innocent Hagrid could kill a student was unthinkable.

"I'm not. That's why I know he must be a scapegoat. I mean really, that oaf as the Heir of Slytherin? Give me a break," Nott said, sounding sure. The others nodded, seeing the logic. Draco still looked a little petulant that his father hadn't told him.

"But you don't know who it is or where the Chamber is located?" Helen clarified, just to be sure. The others shook their heads. Helen wanted to sigh, but she really couldn't complain. She had a lot more information now to work with. She'd have to unravel this all rather soon if she wanted to clear her name before the Ministry or the Hogwarts Board of Governors decided to start pointing fingers. She also needed to look up information on the Old Ways Daphne mentioned. Apparently it was something the wizardborn were familiar with, maybe she'd ask Ron.

"Thank you for your help. I'll think on this," Helen said, preparing to leave. Nott stopped her with a wave of his hand.

"Stay a minute, please. We've answered some of your questions, I think you should answer some of ours," he said, a calculating gleam in his eye. The others looked at him in confusion, as if this hadn't been part of the plan, but he ignored them.

"Depends on the question," she said, intrigued despite herself.

"You aren't really a Gryffindor, are you?" he stated more than asked, the others looked as surprised as she felt by the exclamation. Helen tried to hide a smile; these were the mind games she was talking about.

"I don't know what you mean," she said in false innocence. Nott looked at her shrewdly.

"The Sorting Hat, it didn't really want to put you in Gryffindor, did it? You're a Slytherin," he announced. The others began to look thoughtful, as if considering the merit of the idea. Pansy just looked angry.

"Oh please, Theo. You have to be kidding. She's the Gryffindor Golden Girl, a lion to the core!" she exclaimed, fidgeting in her seat.

"Or that's just what she wants everyone to think," Blaise murmured, a sly smile stretching across his face. Helen decided to play along.

"What led you to that conclusion?"

"Several things," Theodore said, taking on the air of a scholar. "That move you pulled in the Quidditch match, when you got our Keeper taken out with a rogue Bludger, that was about as far from fair play as you can get."

"I don't remember 'fair play' being part of the Hat's song," she argued, just for the sake of it. Nott waved her off easily.

"But chivalry is, and that move wasn't exactly chivalrous either. You also keep up with us, you understand double speak and hiding your intensions without actually lying. Half the words out of your mouth since you've gotten here have been less than genuine," he continued, really getting into it now. "I remember how long your sorting took, you weren't exactly an instant Gryffindor. You even managed to find the Common Room without help."

"Wow, Theo, I didn't realize you were paying so much attention to me. It could start to give a girl ideas, you know?" she said, just a tad flirtatiously. The shade of red his face turned was hilarious, and even his friends started laughing at the look on his face. Ha, twelve-year-old boys, they think they're so clever until the topic of girls is brought up.

"You didn't answer my question. Did that Hat want you in Slytherin?" he asked, trying to power through his embarrassment. She decided to throw him a bone, even if she didn't want to reveal too much.

"It was discussed," she admitted. Triumph alighted Nott's eyes. He was the picture of a smug know-it-all in that moment.

"Why didn't you then. Go to Slytherin, I mean," Draco asked, looking a little woeful at what could have been. Helen sent him a mischievous smile.

"I look good in red," she deadpanned. The others snickered a bit, but Helen could just barely catch 'you look good in everything' come from Draco. She pretended not to hear it.

Further questions where stopped when the wall slid open to reveal Professor Snape.

"I expect that everyone who plans to stay over the holidays has- Potter what are you doing in here?" Snape barked, cutting himself off. Helen stood up and collected her school bag, straightening her uniform as she did. She knew when she was about to be kicked out. The whole Common Room had turned to stare, apparently having missed her initial entrance and had not realized there was a lion amongst them.

"Just visiting some friends, Professor," she said, all innocence. Snape didn't seem to be falling for it.

"Who let you in? Did someone give you the password?" he questioned aggressively, hard eyes zeroing in on his godson who was shaking his head in rapid denial. Helen stepped in to save him from the Potion Master's wrath.

"I let myself in, Professor, no one helped me. Quite honestly, I didn't need their help. They couldn't keep me out if they tried," she said, trying to meet his eyes, their never-ending battle continuing. Why wouldn't he look her in the eye?

"What do you mean?" he demanded. They had the whole Common Room's attention now, and Helen had a decision to make. She could explain it aloud, and try to seem innocent in her use of a 'Dark gift' or she could demonstrate and make a ploy for respect in the Snake House. Well, she'd never been afraid of a challenge before. Helen supposed she really was a Gryffindor. The word came easier the second time.

"Open."

Everyone in the room jerked back, even Professor Snape. There were a few cries of surprise, and a First Year even fell out of their chair as the wall slid open. Snape's black eyes finally caught hers, and Helen could almost see a glimmer of fear before it was extinguished. Helen turned back to the Second Years, looking just as pale and surprised as the rest.

"See you in Potions."

And she walked right out of the Slytherin Common Room with no one bothering to follow her. So this is what fear feels like.

XXXXXXXXXX

The winter holidays were quite similar to last year. The school was decorated splendidly, food was in abundance, and the general mood was cheery. Hermione, the Weasley's, Draco and Theo opted to stay, so she was never without company. Helen had begun a campaign of befriending the Slytherins in her year, so she spent several meals during the last week of the semester at their table. Draco was always delighted by her appearance, and the others were warming up to her as well. Except Pansy, of course, but Helen was starting to realize why: Pansy had a gigantic crush on Draco and saw Helen as some sort of competition. Helen didn't bother to correct her; her ire was too funny.

Ron absolutely hated that Helen was cozying up to the 'slimey snakes' but he'd get over it. She made sure to play extra games of chess and Exploding Snap with him to dampen his irritation though, and it seemed to be working.

The only out-of-the-ordinary part of her break was a trip to the second floor girl's bathroom. Generally, everyone avoided it due to the presence of Moaning Myrtle, but she really needed to go. After relieving herself, she nearly tripped over a dirty caldron and a copy of Moste Potente Potions. Someone had been brewing in the bathroom, and left in a hurry, it would seem. They either finished their potion and stored it away, or ruined it because all that was left was the greyish dregs at the bottom.

She thought about doing nothing until she actually opened Moste Potente Potions out of curiosity. She took one look at the recipe for a poison that made one bleed to death through their eyeballs, and then ran off to retrieve Professor Snape. He wasn't happy to see her, or be dragged into a girl's bathroom, but he was even less happy when he saw the book and caldron. One sniff of the caldron determined it to be Polyjuice Potion, and Helen was sent to retrieve the Headmaster before being banished to Gryffindor Tower. She had cross-examined Hermione to make sure she and Ron hadn't gone through with their ridiculous plot to interrogate the Slytherins, and they swore they didn't, which was even more worrying because it meant someone else was wandering around with the ability to look like anyone, and that someone may very well be the Heir of Slytherin.

Helen decided she couldn't wait any longer after a Ravenclaw Prefect named Penelope Clearwater was petrified (which sent Percy Weasley into a tizzy for some reason) and traveled to Hagrid's hut to gently question him about what happened when the Chamber was opened before. Ron had accompanied her, and they were both interrupted when Lucius Malfoy entered the hut with Professor Dumbledore and some bumbling fool named Fudge who was apparently the Minister for Magic. Hagrid was taken to prison, and Helen had to literally bite her tongue under the Invisibility Cloak she was so upset, but not before he advised the seemingly empty room to follow the spiders.

That was exactly what Helen did, dragging a reluctant Ron behind her who had a deathly fear of spiders due to the twins transfiguring his teddy bear into a tarantula when he was a toddler (she had high-fived the twins for that prank when Ron wasn't looking). The spiders kept getting larger as they plunged deeper into the Forbidden Forest, and Ron was getting paler as well, he looked positively sickly in the moonlight.

Eventually, they met Aragog- a giant spider the size of a truck that could talk. Helen was rather proud of Ron for not passing out in fear. Aragog told them about how he was accused of being the monster that terrorized the school, but it was actually the 'one that spiders flee in fear of.' He asserted that Hagrid was wrongfully accused, which Helen found a huge relief. She was not going to let Hagrid go down for this.

The whole visit was going rather well until Aragog decided to be a prick and offer them up as food for his many kids. Helen's ADHD had flown off the handle, and she'd scooped up a pointed branch and stabbed it through the head of an acromantula before she could even think about it. One was dead but they were still horribly outmatched and now the giant spiders were angry. Ron and Helen had fled through the forest; nearly being eaten several times and were eventually surrounded by the clicking, eight-legged monstrosities.

Helen looked around in desperation and was about ten seconds away from flinging herself at one of the bugs and trying to strangle the life out of it with her bare hands when arrows had whistled through the air. A stampede of centaurs broke through the woods, shooting arrows with incredible speed and accuracy. Acromantulas were dropping left, right and center while neither Helen nor Ron were so much as scratched. Helen was in awe of their skill, and barely managed to stutter out a thank you. One of them stepped forward, and introduced himself as Firenze.

"Venus and Mars shine brightly on you, Helen Potter. You have a great destiny. Take heed, however, there will be loss and pain and Death." With that cheery statement delivered in a mystical voice, Firenze turned to leave. The centaurs ran off to do whatever a tribe of half-horse archers did in their free time.

Ron had more-or-less been a wreck after that and went to bed as soon as they returned to the Tower. Helen was also pretty tired from their impromptu hike, and fell into her four-poster gracelessly that night. She'd woken up the next morning groggy and with the persistent feeling that something was wrong. She didn't understand what the problem was until she'd looked into the mirror that morning.

A lock of hair was missing. Three inches (a complete curl!) was just gone! It must have gotten cut in the forest somehow, but Helen was too busy freaking out to care. She dove for Lavender's collection of magical beauty magazines. She knew she saw a hair regrowth spell in there somewhere, and she was determined to find it. It took a half-an-hour, in which her roommates tried and failed to determine what was wrong with her before she found what she was looking for. It was a weak spell, and could only grow a few inches at most, but that was all Helen needed. Once her hair had been fixed and Helen had explained the situation, Hermione lamented the vanity of her best friend. Helen smiled cheekily and lamented her own best friends status as a know-it-all. Hermione had very little to comment on after that.

Valentine's Day was soon after her foray into the Forbidden Forest, but the less said about that, the better. The only one who was more upset by Lockharts dwarves than her seemed to be Blaise Zabini, who was caught trying to chuck one off the fourth floor balcony. He got two weeks detention, but seemed to feel it was worth it.

The year continued on, and fear was circulating through the school constantly. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were still terrified of her, to the point of Gryffindor winning their second match against Ravenclaw because Helen got a little too close to their Seeker while chasing the Snitch, and the girl had veered horribly off course in fright.

Helen, Ron, and Hermione logged serious hours in the library, trying to determine what the monster in the Chamber was. Hermione was the most effective researcher between the three of them (Helen still struggled with Dyslexia and Ron was a poor student in general) and she'd often run off to the library herself without telling anyone if she had a sudden idea.

This ended up being a damning habit, as one of her sojourns ended with Hermione being petrified with a mirror clutched in her hand. Helen and Ron had visited her in the Hospital Wing; Ron was woeful but Helen was nearly vibrating with rage. That Heir of Slytherin bastard had attacked her best friend. She'd make him pay. Make him suffer for his actions.

Even stuck as a statue, Hermione still found ways to be helpful. Helen discovered a crumpled up piece of paper clutched in her frozen hand; a page from a book on magical creatures describing basilisks. It was like everything suddenly fell into place as Helen read over the passage.

Basilisks (Or drakons, as Ollivander had informed her was their technical species when she'd received her rosewood and drakon heartstring wand nearly two years ago) were serpents, which explained the voice Helen heard the night Mrs. Norris was petrified, and why it could only be controlled by Slytherin or his descendants. Spiders fled in their wake, and they could live to be extraordinarily old, going centuries in a type of hibernation where they didn't require food or activity.

Their gaze was supposed to be deadly, but Helen theorized that was only when looked upon directly. Mrs. Norris had fallen on a night when Moaning Myrtle had flooded the corridor, and probably only caught a reflection of the beast in water on the floor. Colin had seen it through his camera lens, and Justin Finch-Fletchley through Nearly-Headless Nick. Both Penelope Clearwater and Hermione had been petrified with mirrors in their hands.

Helen showed Ron the page, and they both raced off to inform Professor Dumbledore of what Hermione had discovered, only to be met with an empty office. Apparently, Dumbledore had been sacked by the Board of Governors for failing to protect the school earlier that day. Helen was rather worried about this for two reasons; the first being she was pretty sure she'd be next on their hit list if they were to continue finding people to blame, and the second being she was positive this was a precursor to them shutting down the school, which would land her back at the Dursleys. It was crunch time now, she had to find whoever was causing this madness and stop them. The stakes were getting higher every moment.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ginny Weasley's hands were shaking as she donned the blood red robe she'd taken from Helen's trunk. The fit wasn't quite right, as the robe had been tailored to a different body, but that would resolve itself soon.

Today was the day, the day she'd ascend to what she'd always wanted to be. Tom had promised her it would all work out, as long as she followed his every instruction to the letter. Tom had been helping her a lot over the year. He was the one who told her friendship with the Girl-Who-Lived wasn't enough, that she could get more, be more. Why admire Helen Potter from the shadows when she could be Helen Potter?

She could be the star Quidditch player for Gryffindor. She could have tons of friends, even ones from Slytherin. She could be beautiful, and graceful with perfect hair and impossibly smooth skin. She could be famous for destroying You-Know-Who and bear a lightning shaped scar that only added to her appearance to prove it. All she had to do was follow every command Tom gave her.

Ginny opened her trunk lid, and gazed at her most prized possessions taped under a false top. Six photos of Helen stared back at her, three magical and three not. She was smiling and thinking deeply while looking toward the horizon. She was flying on her fancy broom and laughing with her friends. She was reading with a look of utmost concentration on her face and painting her nails with quick precision. Ginny gazed at her own ragged nail beds with a grimace. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to put up with them much longer. There were two more photos she'd gotten from Colin, but they'd been absorbed by the diary. Even Tom, who always seemed so old and wise and above it all, couldn't help but gaze upon her beauty.

In the middle of her circle of photos was a lock of black hair, a perfect curl that Ginny had clipped from Helen's head after she had returned from running around somewhere with her brother Ron (stupid Ron who got to be Helen's best friend instead of her). Ginny removed the lock carefully, and slipped it into her pocket. She grabbed the flask of Polyjuice Potion, which she had brewed under Tom's careful direction in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and finally the diary.

Ginny snuck from the Gryffindor dorms. It wasn't that hard, no one ever noticed her. She was just one more Weasley to them. She grabbed her red paint from where it was stashed behind a suit of armor, and wrote her own obituary below the message that started it all, the one she didn't really remember writing, but Tom assured her she did.

"Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever."

Ginny followed the well-worn path to the Chamber of Secrets after that under Tom's direction, making sure to get red paint on her shoes and letting that create a trail to the entrance in case Helen never figured it's location out. He'd told her that Helen would come down to save her, and Ginny believed him. That's what noble, heroic, compassionate Helen Potter would do.

Ginny let the Parseltongue words slip through her lips as Tom orchestrated the right sounds. This was okay, good even. Helen was a Parselmouth, this only made them more similar. She slid through the pipes, and walked into the Chamber proper, waiting for everything to come to ahead. She started to feel strangely weak and tired, sort of dizzy.

"Tom, when do I take the Polyjuice? When do I become Helen Potter?" she asked. The answer she received, for the first time ever, came from outside her head and echoed in the empty room. Ginny fell to her knees, vision darkening with every passing second.

"Oh please, you silly little fool. You are no Helen Potter."

The last thing Ginny saw before falling into the black was a pair of brilliant dark eyes and a malicious smirk.

XXXXXXXXXX

Helen was seriously considering if saving Ginny was actually worth it. Between the disgusting pipe ride, Lockhart trying to erase her and Ron's memories with Ron's messed up wand (and failing, like he did with everything else), and the cave in, she was pretty sure the Universe was actively discouraging her from pursuing this course of action. And who was she to argue with the Universe?

Unfortunately, Helen liked the Weasley's and the Weasley's liked Ginny (for some reason she wasn't sure of) so she'd save her. If nothing else, this should go a long way to clearing her name and maybe even a chance to punch the Heir of Slytherin in the face. Gotta think positive.

Helen finally got through the last password-protected door, and was met with a large empty Chamber being presided over by a huge statue of an unattractive bearded wizard. Helen was pretty sure it was supposed to be Salazar Slytherin himself. At the foot of his statue laid a small body, pale with fiery red hair splayed about and wearing… Helen's favorite red robe?

"You know, you make it really hard to want to save you," Helen grumbled, picking up the pace to see if she was alive.

"I assure you, this is the least annoying she's been in months," came a smooth voice from the shadows. In a flash Helen had her wand out and pointed to where she'd heard the voice, her ADHD flaring like it always seemed to do in these types of situations. Her eyes were everywhere, looking for threats, for escape routes, for weapons she could use if she loses her wand.

"And who are you, exactly?" Helen questioned as a figure stepped into the dim lighting of the Chamber. He was incredibly handsome in a way that just reeked of aristocracy. He had dark eyes, sharp features, and perfectly parted hair that had a wave to it. He looked to be about sixteen-years-old, was wearing a Slytherin uniform, and was twirling a wand in his hands in feigned disinterest. Helen knew it was feigned because his eyes were practically burning as they drank in her visage. Helen discerned in that moment, as she sometimes did, that this handsome boy had never and would never be able to love anyone or anything. Not even himself.

There was something wrong with the boy, as he seemed… fuzzy around the edges, not quite defined or corporeal. Helen also felt an odd sort of pull to him, like she should step closer, be closer to him. Helen held her ground against the feeling.

"I could be a friend if you let me, an ally," he stated, eyes zeroing in on her scar.

"I was thinking more along the lines of your name," she specified. She'd never seen this boy before, not at the Slytherin table, or their Common Room, or in the hallways.

"Of course, how rude of me. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, Miss Potter," he offered, wand still twirling. It wasn't a threatening posture, but Helen could easily see how that wand could be in an attack position in seconds if Tom Riddle so chose. Helen decided not to lower hers.

"Well, you seem to know who I am. Let me guess, you're the Heir of Slytherin?" Helen asked, already anticipating the answer. Tom chuckled a bit before his eyes strayed over to Ginny's prone form.

"Yes, and no. While I am the last descendent of Salazar Slytherin, I'm not the one who's been terrorizing the halls of Hogwarts this year. That's been Ginny," he said, tipping his head in her direction. Helen raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Are you trying to tell me that the one who's been systematically attacking students this year is that tiny First Year over there that's too shy to even talk to me?" Helen questioned in disbelief. Tom cracked a smile, and Helen felt a shiver go down her spine. He should smile less; it felt wrong.

"I know, it does sound farfetched. Really, she hasn't quite been… aware of what she's been doing, at least not her part in the attacks. She was more-or-less conscious when she collected photos of you, brewed Polyjuice under my instruction, stole a lock of your hair and that robe she's in, and even when she wrote her own farewell and marched down here to wait for you. Truly, you shouldn't pity the stupid creature, she did it to herself," he explained, shrugging nonchalantly. He was beginning to become more real and less fuzzy. Helen was pretty sure this was a bad thing.

"You're the one who orchestrated the attacks, though? You used her to do it? Like some kind of puppet. Who are you?" Helen demanded, starting to get nervous, and not just because it sounded like Ginny was trying to become her with Polyjuice Potion. That is a nightmare she'd confront later.

"You aren't one to become distracted, are you? Very well, I'm a memory- stuck in that diary for sixty years, but I'm soon to be much more than that. You see, as Ginny Weasley grows weaker, I grow stronger. She poured her heart out to me, telling me all about her older brothers that were so mean to her, how they teased her and she was afraid no one would like her. She moaned about how beautiful and perfect Helen Potter was, and how she'd never be able to be friends with her. She poured so much into me that eventually, I was able to pour a little of myself back into her," Tom explained. Helen felt sick.

"You're drinking her life force, aren't you? Bringing yourself out of the diary by latching on to her."

"Very good, Miss Potter. You are as clever as Ginny always said you were. You must understand, I did encourage her obsession a bit. I was just so curious about you. How could a child, a one-year-old girl, defeat the greatest Dark Wizard of all time? How did you, Helen Potter, walk away with nothing but a scar, when Lord Voldemorts powers were broken?"

A maniac gleam had entered his dark eyes, and Helen was starting to get a sinking suspicion of just how bad her situation was.

"Why do you care? If you've been in that book for sixty years, Voldemort was after your time."

"Voldemort is my past, present, and future," Tom stated seriously. He moved his wand through the air, writing his name out in magical fire and then swishing the wand he was holding so the letters rearranged to read 'I am Lord Voldemort.'

"I hope you realize that you get really ugly in the future. Like, stuck to the back of some idiots head, rotting and noseless ugly," Helen informed him cheekily, not being able to help herself now that she knew she was dealing with the man who'd tried to kill her several times. Tom scowled in displeasure.

"There are rituals that can grant unimaginable magical power, if one is willing to take the side effects. What worth is a pretty face, compared to such power?" Tom asked rhetorically.

"You'd be surprised. Beauty is a power in it's own right. I bet you recruited a lot more to your side when you looked like this than when you look like modern you," Helen pointed out, not willing to let the power of beauty be stepped on like that. Tom sent her a surprisingly soft smile. Helen noticed she'd been stepping closer, pulled by that unexplained force. She dug her feet into the floor.

"You may be right, Miss Potter. Thinking like that is why I've decided to make you an offer. Join me; we can walk out of this Chamber together, disguised by the Polyjuice Ginny so lovingly made for us. You can take her face, and I'll take that of her brother after I kill him. We can walk right out of this blasted school and make plans. You can revenge yourself on anyone who has ever wronged you. With your beauty and strategy, and my magical power and leadership we can do anything, be anything. We can push the boundaries of magic farther than any before us.

"We're quite alike Helen. Both orphans, probably some of the only Parselmouths to walk these halls since Salazar Slytherin himself, both ruthless when the situation calls for it. I've heard you've gotten close to the Slytherins in your year? It makes me wonder if you were ever much of a Gryffindor. We even look somewhat alike. Why shouldn't two similar people work together? Like calls to like and all that," Tom pitched. Helen would admit that he was a lot more convincing than he'd been in the Death Corridor last year, and it made her wonder if his sanity had degenerated as he grew older. Still, he was missing a hugely obvious point in all this.

"That's great and all, but I think you've forgotten exactly who orphaned me in the first place. If there was anyone I'd like to 'revenge myself upon' it would be you!" she barked, letting the anger she'd been keeping at bay flood forward. She cast a quick Disarming Charm his way, but he sidestepped it easily, and returned fire with a spell she'd never seen before. It cramped her hand and forced her to drop her wand, which he summoned to himself. Well, there goes any hope for a duel.

"Pity. We could have been great together. But maybe it's better this way. I've never been one to share power, you would've had to die eventually, I think. No matter, would you like a demonstration of the true power of Salazar Slytherin and his descendants, Helen Potter? Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."

The mouth of the ugly statue opened, and a low rumbling hiss echoed through the Chamber. Helen was quick to avert her eyes, knowing the gaze of a basilisk to be deadly.

"Kill the girl," Tom demanded. He really didn't take rejection well.

Helen knew she was at a distinct disadvantage, knew she couldn't fight an enemy she couldn't see, and although it galled her, she forced herself to retreat, running behind one of the many stone pillars in the Chamber. Helen could hear the scratch of scales on stone headed her way, and she ducked and sprinted to another pillar just as a loud 'hiss' and a 'thunk' indicated the basilisk had lunged for her and missed.

Helen grit her teeth, wishing more than anything she could see the stupid over sized snake. Her wish was granted when a hauntingly beautiful melody filled the Chamber, accompanied by the fire-bright form of Headmaster Dumbledore's phoenix: Fawkes. The phoenix deposited the Sorting Hat of all things at her feet, and then attacked the basilisk, clawing its eyes out while Tom Riddle screamed in rage and hurled vicious spells at the bird.

"Don't think that blasted bird has saved the day. My basilisk can still smell you," he warned spitefully. "Smell her. Kill her! Ignore the bird, get the girl!"

Helen was frantically shaking the stupid hat, trying to figure out anyway it could help her out of this situation when a metallic thud echoed through the Chamber. Inexplicably, a long golden sword had fallen from the hat. It was incrusted with sparkling rubies at the hilt and the word 'Gryffindor' was embossed across the glittering blade. Helen felt a small tug at her lips. Now she could fight.

Helen sprinted out from behind the pillar and got her first good look at the basilisk- or rather, drakon. It was shockingly long, nearly sixty feet, with poisonous fangs as long as her forearm and bleeding holes where she was sure the eyes used to be. It reared back, hissing its intention to eat her for all to hear, and then struck. Helen dodged the lunge, swinging the golden sword down on its flat nose. It made an incredibly superficial cut, causing nearly no damage but definitely enraging the snake further.

It turned quickly, lunging again, trying to bite her or eat her. Helen had to physically roll out of the way, and didn't even have time to swing her sword at the stupid thing. Then it decided to become even more monstrous as it opened its wide maw, inhaled, and then released a gout of flame headed straight for her. The drakon could breath fire. She remembered Ollivander's words, about how basilisks were technically drakons, and drakons were technically dragons but she had assumed that the ability to breath fire had gotten lost in translation somewhere. It certainly wasn't part of the description that Hermione had ripped out of the creature textbook. Leave it to wizards to overlook something so freaking important!

Helen managed to dodge the flames, but it was a close call, and her uniform robe was smoking. Riddle, the prick, thought the whole thing was amusing and was chuckling merrily as he watched her.

Helen knew she was going to need a plan soon. She couldn't dodge forever and all the swipes she made to the drakon's hide were ineffectual. It wasn't until the drakon opened wide to shoot more flame at her that she got an idea. The inside of the great snakes mouth was light pink and fleshy: vulnerable. She was going to have to stab it in the roof of the mouth. Easier said then done, but at least she had a goal now. Helen stepped right in front of the monster.

"Oi! Ugly! You going to continue shooting fire like a coward or are you going to attack me like a real beast? It'll be hard to eat me if I'm incinerated," she taunted, bracing herself for the next attack. She had one shot at this.

The snake reared back, and then struck. Helen kept the sword in front of her until the last second where she stabbed up with all her strength. Pain exploded in her forearm as she yanked the sword out, taking a fang with her. The snake thrashed about, letting out sounds of anguish that almost made Helen pity it. Almost. The drakon collapsed to the floor with an all mighty thud, and laid still. Helen turned her head over to where Tom Riddle stood, looking torn between incandescent rage and smug accomplishment.

"You may have killed my basilisk, Potter, but it hasn't done anyone much good. The venom is spreading through your bloodstream now, and you'll be dead in minutes. Ginny is nearly lifeless, and I'll finally be free, all in a few short moments. You lose, Helen Potter. You set yourself against the might of Lord Voldemort and fell, as we always knew you would," he bragged. Helen thought he had an awful high opinion for a guy who didn't even participate in that fight.

Helen could feel an incredible burning spreading from the point where the fang was still lodged in her arm, and weakness was fast conquering her limbs. She dropped the heavy golden sword that had nearly saved her life, and fell to her knees, breathing harshly. Ugh, dying hurts! Her only regret was that she wasn't going to take Tom with her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the little black book that had started it all. The instrument Tom had used to control Ginny, to feed her obsession, to steal her life force. Helen felt her eyes narrow. Maybe she could still take Tom down after all.

She crawled to the diary, trying not to think about how undignified and pathetic she must have looked doing that. She wrapped her left hand around the fang in her right arm, and yanked it out with a grimace of pain. The fire had spread all the way up her arm now, and she didn't want to think about what would happen when it reached her heart. Helen looked up, wanting Tom to understand what she was doing at the very last second. Vivid green met widening dark eyes, and she shoved the fang into the diary with all the strength left in her. Riddle made to stop her, but was too late. He screeched in agony as ink flowed out of the diary like blood. He became blurry once more, clutching his face in torment as he gave one more cry of pain before exploding into brilliant golden light and disappearing.

Helen let a smirk curl her lips before she collapsed to the cold Chamber floor. She could hear Ginny gasping frantically in the background, but hoped she stayed down for a few more minutes. Helen wanted to die in peace. She stared up at the ceiling of the Chamber of Secrets, and wondered if there was an afterlife. Would she see her parents again? She hoped so; Helen had always wanted a family.

The fluttering of red feathers grabbed her rapidly weakening attention. Fawkes had returned, and he was crying. Helen didn't know a bird could cry. Helen's rambling thoughts began to clear, and she realized exactly what the crying was accomplishing. The burning was starting to dim, her skin was closing up into a circular scar, and she was healing. Helen felt a genuine smile spread across her lips.

"Phoenixes are so cool."

Fawkes chirped his agreement.

A minute later, and Helen was on her feet again. She gathered the sword first, which seemed to sense it wasn't needed anymore, because it started to shrink in her hand. Soon she was holding a beautiful gold and ruby hairclip shaped like a rose. Helen shrugged and slipped it into her hair. It was rather pretty, and so much easier to carry this way. She gathered the Sorting Hat next, and it seemed to remember it could talk, because it started chatting as soon as Helen touched it.

"I've been holding on to that sword for a very long time, Helen Potter. Godric told me to give it to someone worthy when the time was right. I've met no worthier owner than you in all my years of searching. It is a great weapon; do it justice," he commanded softly. Helen nodded, taking the hat's words seriously. She had to wonder when she'd need a gold sword in the future, but she figured it might come in handy threatening the Dursleys if nothing else. The hat was silent for a moment, before speaking again, almost like an after thought. "If Albus asks, I took it back, understand?" he questioned. Helen nodded easily. It wasn't his sword after all. According to the Hat it was Godric Gryffindor's and now hers. She could fib a bit; it was really none of the Headmaster's business.

By the time Helen got to Ginny after rescuing their wands and picking up the diary, she was a sniveling wreck of apologies on the floor. Helen didn't want to deal with her. She'd concede that a lot of her behavior was probably due to Tom's influence, possession, and coercion, but she was the one to talk to the creepy megalomaniacal diary and Tom had mentioned that she was at least somewhat aware of some of her 'become Helen' actions, which Helen was starting to realize was probably a ploy to get Ginny to brew Polyjuice Potion so he could walk out of the Chamber unimpeded. Be that as it may, Helen could only feel so much pity for the girl, and she certainly didn't want to spend time with her. Helen reached down, grabbed Ginny's upper arm in a tight grip, and drug her out of the Chamber while Fawkes swooped and sung around them.

They met up with Ron and an amnesiac Lockhart, and Helen learned another reason phoenixes were awesome: they could teleport using fire. One wash of warmth later, and they were all in the newly returned Professor Dumbledore's office with the sobbing Weasley family and Professors Snape and McGonagall- Dumbledore's entourage.

Helen chucked the damaged diary on the Headmaster's desk and started the very long story of what happened in the Chamber, leaving nothing out. This meant the whole Weasley family got to hear about how their daughter was an obsessive stalker who conspired to steal Helen's identity all year, brewed illegal Polyjuice Potion, stole stuff, cut her hair (that bitch),and terrorized the school in general. She explained Tom's role in all that, which seemed to cushion the blow a bit, but she made sure to mention what Tom told her about Ginny being aware of the stalker stuff. Ginny didn't add anything to the story; she just stood in her mother's arms and sobbed. When Helen got to the part with the Sword of Gryffindor, she made sure to mention that the hat took it back and kept the back of her head where the clip rested out of Dumbledore's sight. No need to foster any associations in his mind if she was going to wear it on a day-to-day basis.

When she was done, Dumbledore sent the Weasley's off to the Hospital Wing for a check up and Helen was left with the teachers. She had one question on her mind.

"Are you seriously not going to punish her? She tried to become me. She stole stuff, she terrorized the school, she unleashed a basilisk on muggleborns, she cut my hair! Does that not warrant suspension, at least? Expulsion?" Helen gazed down at her hair where it was flowing over her shoulder. "Execution?"

Dumbledore chuckled a bit at the last suggestion, sensing she wasn't truly serious.

"Don't you think she has suffered enough, Helen? She nearly died tonight, and has been used as a possessed instrument of Lord Voldemort for most of the year," he reminded her. Helen wasn't completely sold.

"I understand that, but you've got to admit she kind of did some of that to herself, talking with strange magical objects and stuff. I know for a fact Mr. Weasley has warned all his kids against that. Heck, he even warned me about it this summer," Helen argued. She could see Snape nodding in agreement out of the corner of her eye, but Dumbledore just shook his head.

"Greater wizards than Ginevra Weasley have been taken in by Tom Riddle's charms. I fear the poor girl never had a chance. No, Helen. We will give Miss Weasley forgiveness and mercy and you may find a great friend in Ginny Weasley one day."

Helen had to pinch her lips shut with extreme force. She had a feeling that screaming 'like hell I will' at the Headmaster wouldn't get her very far.

Dumbledore dismissed her after awarding Helen one hundred points for Gryffindor, and Helen went stomping through the halls, feeling somehow cheated. She passed Lucius Malfoy, who had the house-elf that stole her mail quivering at his feet. She was too tired and irritated for polite greetings or to inform him that his house-elf was barmy, so she swept pass with a barely polite nod. She made a beeline for the Hospital Wing, and felt some of her spite melt away when she saw Hermione flexing her fingers and rolling her shoulders. The Restoration Draught had been administered while she and Ron were in the Chamber, and all the petrified were coming back to themselves.

Helen all but threw herself at Hermione's revitalized form. She thanked her profusely for discovering the creature was a basilisk, and regaled her with what happened in the Chamber in hushed whispers. Hermione was equally horrified by Ginny's role in everything, and thought Helen was right to want some form of punishment handed down. Helen was glad to know it wasn't just her natural born aggression suggesting it.

Colin was babbling a mile a minute at Madam Pomfrey, while Justin Finch-Fletchley kept shooting Helen grateful and apologetic looks alternatively. Penelope Clearwater was cuddled up with Percy Weasley of all people. Helen had always sensed some sort of vibe between the two, but she'd never thought about it too much. Apparently, they were dating, or at the very least liked each other. Filch was cooing over his precious cat, so maybe he'd back off his campaign of terror against students he'd been invested in this year. The rest of the Weasley's were sequestered in the back behind a curtain. Madam Pomfrey didn't want her patients face-to-face with their attacker so soon, even if said attacker hadn't been very aware of what she was doing. Helen thought this was very wise.

The rest of the year went quickly. Finals were cancelled in honor of the demise of Slytherin's monster, and Helen learned it was possible to flirt and win at Quidditch at the same time when she played against Cedric in the final match of the year, securing the Cup for Gryffindor for the second time. Cedric took the loss gracefully, and it just made Helen like him even more. The only thing to please her more after that was Hagrid's return from Azkaban and his full pardon for what happened sixty years ago.

All of the Weasley kids apologized for Ginny in an awkward manner, trying to be sorry without incriminating their sister or choosing sides. Helen waved it all away. They had nothing to be sorry for, and it wasn't going to change her relationship with any of them. She was just going to avoid Ginny at all costs and that would be that. Ron seemed especially relieved that Helen wasn't mad at him. Hermione told Helen later that Ron had confided in her that he thought Helen was going to end their friendship and never talk to any of them ever again because of what Ginny did.

The relationship that did change, however, was that between Helen and Professor Snape. At the end of their last class of the semester, he asked Helen to stay behind. Draco, who had been her partner, gave her a worried look but Helen just shrugged. She had no idea what she did to earn his ire on the last day. When the last student left the room, Helen ambled up to Snape's desk and gave him the universal 'so-why-am-I-here?' look.

"I have been meaning to talk to you since the Headmaster's decision in regards to Miss Weasley's punishment," Snape started, taking Helen aback. She really hadn't expected this conversation. "While I have no authority to suspend or expel her, I find her continued presence at this school and what it could mean… displeasing."

Helen vaguely wondered if teachers were allowed to talk about students with other students like this, but she honestly didn't care. It was nice to know someone in that office had agreed with her.

"In light of that," he continued, "I've decided you may benefit from this book for next year. Read it over the summer, and if you have any questions about casting, ask me when you return next semester."

Snape handed a medium sized book to her. It looked rather new compared to a lot of the books you find at Hogwarts, with a still glossy cover that read Basic Warding: How to Sleep Safely at Night. Helen flipped through it quickly, seeing wards to protect beds, rooms, trunks, boxes, and tons of other things. She gave her Potions Professor a sincere smile, touched by his concern for her safety in the face of a stalker that stayed in the same tower as her.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," she said softly, meaning every word. The tiniest smile imaginable curled his lips.

"You're welcome, Miss Potter. It is my job to protect my Slytherin's after all. Even the ones who outmaneuvered the Sorting Hat," he said.

Helen's eyes flew toward his face from the book, and she saw the knowing glint in his eyes that she'd seen in Theo's all those weeks ago. It wasn't until she was aboard the Hogwarts Express the next day that she realized he had met her eyes for their entire conversation.

XXXXXXXXXX

I'm sorry! I don't know how this chapter ended up being so long! It was literally meant to be half as many words as it is, and then when I went back to edit it, I couldn't stand to throw half of it out. Characters just continued to spit in canons face, and it made it difficult to skim over things. I thought about splitting it into two chapters instead of having this awkwardly long one in the story, but I promised the first three years would be a chapter each, and I intend to keep that promise. The Prisoner of Azkaban won't be nearly as long as a rehash chapter, I hope.

So, St. Anthony's as Hogwarts false front: I always figured Hogwarts would need some sort of official name when muggle raised students disappeared to Scotland each year. There needs to be an organized lie. Fun fact: St. Anthony was the patron saint of swine (get it? Hogwarts?).

Helen and the word Mudblood: Ares practically invented the taunt. His reaction to taunts was a little inconsistent in PJatO, but generally they didn't bother him too much unless a particular sore spot was hit, and I intend Helen to be the same way. She doesn't put much value in name-calling and doesn't understand why other people do, she's been called names all her life. She's over it and that's why she doesn't jump to Hermione's defense. Eventually, we will see Helen taunted beyond her limits and it's going to be ugly.

Ginny: I swear I'm not trying to bash. I wanted a character to take a darker turn and Ginny was there. Her obsession with Helen was disturbing and unhealthy on it's own, however, she never would have gone as far as she did without Tom's coercion and eventual possession. She is a victim, but she does deserve some blame for what happened and Helen isn't the super forgiving sort (especially when you mess with her hair).

Language: You may have noticed there was more cursing in this chapter: get used to it. I wanted Helen's poor language to develop naturally with her age. At eleven she barely cursed at all, at twelve she did it when stressed, and the words will get worse and more frequent as she gets older. She's a child of Ares, what can I say? This story is T for a reason.

Tom Riddle can't love: I've always found this an interesting idea. If you think about it, he must not have even loved himself, considering all the damage he does to himself- mutilating his own soul and heading a campaign against people like him: half-bloods (even hating his muggle father, there's still an element of self-hate there as well). I'm not even sure you could say he loved power; lust after it might be a better term, or obsession.

Gryffindor's Sword: I won't say too much now, but yes: Gryffindor was a demigod. A Roman demigod, actually, hence the Imperial Gold sword. It's going to raise eyebrows when Helen gets to camp.

Finally, timing: Tom said he's been in the diary for sixty years in this story and he has. The timelines have been adjusted but it's not significant until chapter five, so that's when I'll break it down for everyone.

Thanks for reading this extremely long chapter and subsequent extremely long author's note. I hope you enjoyed it!