Last time...

"Slow and steady, Potter." Madam Hooch coached her through landing the broom. "That was some catch."

"I don't know if you know this, Madam Hooch, but I have noodles for arms." Hera huffed, trying to do as Madam Hooch had asked. Her arms were already shaking.

They were barely on the ground for more than a second before Madam Hooch was inspecting Neville for injuries.

"Broken wrist, I suspect. Mine too. That's some grip you got for noodle arms there, Potter." Madam Hooch murmured, as she looked Neville over.

"HERA POTTER!" Professor McGonagall stormed over to them, but paused when she saw that Hera hadn't moved from her place on the hovering broom. "Miss Potter, what are you doing?"

"Thought I'd have a bit of a lie in, I suppose." Hera commented almost dreamily. "It's quite nice, all warm and sunny like this. I highly recommend it."

"You'll need to come with me, Miss Potter." McGonagall explained, in bemusement.

"That would be great. I'd love to do that." Hera replied. Did anyone else hear how strained her breathing was? "There's only one problem."

"Oh?"

Hera looked a bit sheepish at this, as she replied. "I may or may not have lost the use of my arms."

Chapter 3

She'd managed to dislocate both her shoulders when she caught both Neville and Madam Hooch the way she did. As this is her first time in the Hospital Wing, it is also her first time meeting Madam Pomfrey. The moment that woman ran her wand over Hera it was like a storm brewed in her eyes. Hera had made the mistake of trying to read the paper that was being worked up from the diagnostic spells that Madam Pomfrey ran, and panicked. There was no way they weren't going to ask questions now, but she'd tried that route before, and nothing had ever come of it; there was no reason to think this time would be any different.
"She has been abused, Albus! Abused! Starvation leading to long term malnutrition, broken bones, and who knows what kind of emotional trauma she's suffered!"

She couldn't hear what Albus' response was, but it must not have pleased the woman overly much.

"I don't care that you placed her there for the protection of the Blood Wards! They're killing her, Albus!"

Well, at least her suspicions had been confirmed then. Gringotts had been unable to tell her who'd set up the Blood Wards, something about the wording of the contract. Now that she knew, there was nothing baring them from speaking with her about it. He had placed her with the Dursleys? Who was he that he could decide that for a kid he didn't have anything to do with?

"Oh, that man!" Madam Pomfrey scowled, as she bustled over to her bed. "I wish there was something I could do, something that could free you from those horrible people."

"They're really not so bad." Hera shrugged. "Other kids have it worse than me."

"Don't try to placate me. Your bones are Swiss cheese." Pomfrey replied succinctly. "If you will consent to it, I will file my findings in the hopes that one day we can do something about your relatives. I refuse to call them your family. They don't deserve the privilege. Also, I would like to start you on nutrition potions to help undo the damage they've caused to your development."

"Can you make me a copy of those files?" Hera asked, out of curiosity. "For my own peace of mind. As for potions, I guess. You really think they did that much damage?"

"Swiss. Cheese." The matron repeated sternly. Hera sighed, but nodded. She didn't even know why she was surprised when Madam Pomfrey started automatically handing her things to drink, before casting a spell to quickly copy the files. "Handy spell to have. Gemino. Makes a nonmagical copy if its used as a charm, and if it's used as a curse then it repeatedly replicates something if touched."

"I can see how something like that would be useful." Hera admitted, already thinking of the possibilities. "Even nonmagical copies of books would still be informative."

"See that this gets to who it needs to, Miss Potter." Madam Pomfrey stated rather pointedly, handing her the copied files. "A potion will be ready for you at every meal time, and will appear before you no matter where you are. I suggest you take them, unless you want to remain the height you are for the rest of your life."

Hera nodded faintly, already dreading how awful that was going to be. If the smell of them was any indication, they weren't going to taste good. Before she could talk herself out of it, she gulped down the potion. It tasted as bad as she thought it would, but if it could help her get taller, she'd suffer through. She was glad that she had her school bag with her though, because she kept the vanishing box the goblins had given her in there. They would know what to do with the information.

"Is that her?" She hears, and turns to see Professor McGonagall with a burly fifth-year boy.

"Really, Minerva, this couldn't wait till she was out of the hospital wing?" Madam Pomfrey admonished. Hera will deny it to the grave, but Professor McGonagall may have blushed a little. Whatever is about to happen, it was worth it just for that.

"You don't have to sit next to Severus and his smug face as he subtly brags about his House winning the cup for the last seven years." The professor shot back primly.

"She dislocated both her shoulders with that stunt, and you want to put her on a team for it?" Pomfrey scolded. "Such a dangerous sport for children. She's only eleven!"

"I don't know…might be nice." Hera admitted with a sheepish grin. She didn't even know what it was for yet. "I've never been on a sports team before."

Pomfrey just sighed, but nodded in understanding. "Should have known you'd catch the fever too. Extra strength it is then."

When Madam Pomfrey left, Hera looked over to the two of them with an unimpressed arch of an eyebrow.

"Well, I hope whatever it is you want me to do is worth it." She commented. "Those potions taste like old shoe polish, and I'm gonna be on them for a good long while; Extra strength, thanks to you."

The burly boy eyed her for a moment, as if appraising her before asking. "Tell me, Potter, have you ever played a game of Quidditch?"

She'd handled the purchase of the broom herself through Gringotts, trusting that they would be able to insure that it arrived in a discrete package. While Hera might not have been in Gryffindor House long, she understood that most of her roommates were gossiping hens, and would not hesitate to spread the news around; no matter that it needed to be secret. Hermione Granger was the only exception to that rule. She also knew that most Gryffindors were not subtle, not even Professor McGonagall, and that whatever discrete packaging that woman sent things in would most definitely not have been discrete in any sense of the word. George and Fred sat with her, explaining they were Beaters for the House team, and looked forward to seeing what she could do.

Wood had been patient with her during their secret practice. He'd gone over the rules, demonstrated moves, which ball was for what. It was dangerous, impractical. She loved it already, and she hadn't even played yet. This was going to be great.

Hermione was annoyed for several different reasons. Hera had quite clearly broken several rules, never mind that it was to help a friend, and no one had punished her for it. Then there was that ridiculous wizarding duel Malfoy had tried to trap Hera in. She couldn't believe Ronald had tried to talk her into going for that! At least Hera had had enough sense to leave that one be, though she lost points with Ronald for it.

She also noticed that Hera somehow just knew things. What was worse was the fact that she didn't seem to really focus on it either. Hera and Hermione often competed for top marks; she'd checked. If Hera really applied herself the way Hermione did, would she outclass her? She didn't know, and that made her feel more insecure than she was already feeling, but Hermione didn't want to think she was only winning if someone else wasn't giving their all as well. What was the point in coming in first place if the other person wasn't even trying? So what if Ronald called her a Nightmare when she'd brought it up after trying to help him in Charms. Stupid boys. Friends? She didn't need friends…she didn't…

"Ron, you utter prat." Hera snapped, lightly smacking the back of his head. "Hermione was only trying to help."

"Bloody know it all is what she is, rubbing it in our faces how much better she thinks she is than us." Ron grumbled under his breath, only to be smacked in the back of the head again. "Oi!"

"Just because you're lazy, and won't do your homework till the last minute, doesn't mean you should degrade people who actually like being intelligent." She hissed. "She was trying to help you, because being used for her intelligence is the only reason people have ever been nice to her up until now; which means that after she has some time to calm down, you are going to apologize, and then you are going to start paying attention to your studies!"

Ron had groused for the rest of the day, but when he heard at dinner that Hermione was still in the bathroom crying, he looked distinctly guilty. With Hera glaring at him, he marched up to the Head table, and alerted Professor McGonagall what they planned to do. She'd heard about his behaviour, and wholeheartedly approved of his plan of action. With that taken care of, Ron and Hera made their way to the bathroom, where Ron apologized for being a prat.

"You'd think I'd learn not to make girls mad at me by insulting them, considering I have a sister." He said once he'd apologized. "Ginny is scary when she wants to be."

A low trembling vibration went through the stones of the castle, making Hera frown, but the others didn't seem to notice it.

"Hey, you guys? I'm going to go outside for a minute." Hera stated, a bit distractedly as she was already making her way towards the door. "You all stay here. Okay?"

Whether they answered her or not, she had no idea. For some odd reason, she recognized the tremors she'd felt, and didn't want them to get hurt. If she was right, and she can't understand how she would be, what she'll find is a fully grown mountain troll. The sight before her has her casting a quick locking charm behind her back at the door, just in case her friends decide to run out to investigate, because holy hell it's a fully grown mountain troll. The two sort of…stare…at each other in silence for a moment before the troll makes to charge, and Hera does the only thing she can think to do; she screams.

When she wakes up, it's only because the door behind her is being relentlessly beaten on from the other side. She barely has enough energy to move, but somehow manages to push herself to the side and away from the door. Hermione is immediately fussing over her, while Ron is distracted by the various frozen chunks of troll meat that decorate the hallway now. Hera tries to tell them that they have to get out of here, but she's not even sure she has the energy to do more than blink, and her throat is oddly cold and sore. They each take an arm over their shoulders and begin trying to make their way, while Hera pushes her feet in an effort to help them along. They are, of course, caught by the teachers and scolded for their behaviour, but Hera passes out again before she can hear the whole thing, waking up in the hospital wing three days later after suffering from magical exhaustion.

"This is the worst idea I've ever had." Hera groans, voice muffled because her face was planted against the table. "What was I thinking, agreeing to this? I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Quivvitch i' coo?" Ron offers, around a mouthful of potatoes. Hermione smacks the back of his head.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." the girl scolded, before focusing on Hera. "You've got to eat something, Hera. Perhaps a bit of toast? I know it helps me when I'm feeling anxious."

Hera worried on a bit of toast, but didn't put anything on it, so she was surprised when Hermione shoved some candied ginger in front of her.

"Trust me. Energy boost plus calming stomach without taxing it overly much. You'll thank me later." Hermione insisted, gently nudging the dish towards her some more. Hera started nibbling on that along with the toast. "It's actually kind of nice seeing you lose it like this. I mean, until now, I kind of thought you were this completely unflappable super being that could take on anything. It's kind of nice knowing that you worry like the rest of us."

Hera couldn't help but grin at that. It was perhaps the most comforting thing anyone had ever said to her.

Once in the locker room, the team changed into their scarlet Quidditch uniforms. The Slytherin team would be playing in green, of course. Angelina helped her secure the various straps, and in turn Hera helped her where she could. She had a flashback moment to one of her dreams; two young men who felt like brothers, though they didn't look anything alike, helping each other in much the same way with their armour before a battle. This felt like that somehow. Angelina gave her a small smile as if knowing where her mind had gone, one that Hera returned.

"Okay, men," Wood began. It really felt like this was the pre-battle speech, and he their General.

"And women." Angelina added.

"And women," Wood agreed with a nod. "This is it."

"The big one." Fred added.

"The one we've all been waiting for." George's contribution.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart." Fred admitted to Hera. "We were on the team last year."

"Shut it, you two." Wood growled. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years! We're going to win, I just know it."

He glared at everyone as if to say 'or else'.

Fred Weasley hadn't really spent a lot of time around the little first year that had become their new Seeker. He knew she was friends with his little brother Ron, but that was about it. He was surprised to learn that she was Hera Potter. He like so many others had grown up hearing stories of what she'd done, but meeting her had removed any misconceptions about who he'd thought she'd be. She was so quiet, and such a tiny thing, obviously abused, wickedly mischievous glint in her eyes despite everything. There was a prankster in that girl just waiting to be born, he could tell.

He'd heard the rumours of how she handled the troll at Halloween, but wasn't certain if it was believable, at least not until he'd visited her in the Hospital Wing with Ron. The youngest of the Weasley sons had whispered quietly about apologizing to Granger, how Hera had stepped out for a moment, and the scream that followed. Neither Hermione nor Ron had been able to budge the door till she'd moved, but how had she held it with being as tiny as she was? And the scene they walked in on? What kind of accidental magic could freeze a fully grown mountain troll until it burst into pieces?

Madam Pomfrey had said she'd nearly had her throat frozen in just the same manner, so Fred can only assume the accidental magic happened not just when but from her scream. After that, he watched out for her in the background, George too. She'd protected their little brother, so that made her family. He'd heard Hermione complain about her before the troll incident, but it was more frustration about how she could do things with almost no effort. Fred hadn't believed that either, not really, not till he saw her summon her broom without a word.

Willful nonverbal magic wasn't something a first-year was supposed to know, let alone be able to do, but it didn't look like she realized she'd even done it. By Merlin, could she fly! During the match, he kept an eye on her, so he was the first to notice something wrong with her broom. He and George immediately began circling below her in case she fell, which was likely considering she was only hanging on with one hand at this point, because her broom kept bucking any time they got close enough. Both knew what that meant, someone was jinxing her broom.

When that was finally over, and she was able to get back onto her broom, it was like a fire had lit under her. She'd seen the snitch, he's almost sure of it, especially with that dive she took. Not even Charlie had been this crazy on a broom. She was magnificent! The best part was the hilarity involved when Flint had to accept that she'd caught the snitch with her mouth.

"Did you mean to do that?" Fred asked her quietly when they were all heading back to the locker rooms.

"That depends. If I said yes, would you believe me?" She countered with a mischievous grin.

"I'm onto you, you know." He stated conspiratorially. Her innocent grin fooled no one, least of all him.

Hera hadn't expected to get any Christmas gifts, though this was the first year she could buy them for others, so she was understandably wary upon seeing packages for her. The sweets had been nice, and the sweater was the softest thing she'd ever worn, but the Invisibility Cloak belonged to her father; and there, in the safety of her bed, she cried for what could have been. The fifty pence was even more unexpected than anything else, and even though the thought hadn't been much, she thought that she should do something for them in return. Professor McGonagall had kindly helped her to find something cheap but meaningful, with a note that everything was bought in regular upstanding stores that the Dursleys themselves liked to shop in, and sent it via muggle post; a small bottle of lotion for Aunt Petunia, a punching bag for Dudley, and a pair of trimmers for Uncle Vernon. Most of the rest of the break was spent exploring the castle with Ron, but without the cloak; That she wanted to keep secret for a while.

When she could sneak away from Ron, Hera would read in the restricted section under the cloak. She had always been able to see in low light, and the cold was something she'd grown used to without warm furnishings in the winter at the Dursleys. Hera copies the books using the spell Madam Pomfrey showed her, storing the copies in a compartment of her trunk. She'd only discovered the Mirror of Erised by accident. What it showed her was the most beautiful lie she'd ever seen; A golden palace filled with warmth and happiness, and the warm hugs of a mother figure who loved her. Angered by what she saw, she somehow conjured a rock into her hand, and she smashed that stupid mirror.

She looked at the broken pieces left behind, and wondered if magical mirrors felt pain. Maybe then it would know what her life felt like. There was an odd lumpy red rock in the ruins of the mirror, which reminded her of the grubby package Hagrid had had to get before she'd convinced him to wait at the Leaky for her, and she knew exactly what to do with it. Wrapping up the grubby little thing, she securely knotted it, and made for her room. One hastily written note, and suddenly Hedwig was at her window waiting for her.

The note?

Maybe don't let other people rummage through your unmentionables, Flamel

She finds solace in her books, and doesn't say a word about it when Hermione comes back from break.