Last time...

"My hands…" Hera wondered. "I don't understand…why?"

"Because it still bothers you." Snape replied easily. He didn't appear to be bothered, something she wondered about; something he quickly picked up on, though his hands were steady. "While it does still bother me as well, your last life and I have that in common; pragmatism, that is."

While she could believe that, something seemed to be missing to that explanation.

"Oh, alright." Snape huffed. "I also have a box in my mind that I place such unsavoury memories as Death Eater raids into, and then I close the box. It's labelled 'do not open' for a reason."

"Wouldn't you have to open it to put new things into it?" She pointed out.

"Not if you don't look at it." He replied, stubbornly holding to it, giving her a side glare. "It's a mind box, Potter. Those don't open unless you go poking at them, and I don't."

"Alright, alright, have your mind boxes." Hera gave a shaky laugh as she teased. "That doesn't sound like an unhealthy coping mechanism at all."

"Glad we could have this talk." Snape responded almost immediately, much to the shaky amusement of everyone else.

Rowan Hawks was about to head home for some well deserved rest, when the emergency alarms sounded; a disturbance in the wards. By the time he got to where the breach was, the alarms had ceased. The Senior Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic and recent High Inquisitor and Headmistress of Hogwarts was gasping for air in the middle of the floor. The back of her robes had been carefully cut away to reveal from the tail bone up, and both she and the robes were covered in blood; a quick scan told him it was her own. She was quickly admitted to the hospital, but was unable to tell them what was wrong.

She kept crying 'My lungs! They're not inside!'. Further scans revealed that some major healing had happened to her ribs as well as her internal organs, and a higher salt content along her lungs; the tell tale signs of a magically performed and reversed Blood Eagle. The scans also revealed that while she had magic, it was not her own. Dolores Umbridge seemed to have no magic her own, only the dark magic that came from words carved into her flesh. Rowan wasn't sure they could help her, as even if they were able to remove the dark magic from her body, she would have less innate magic than a muggle.

When he explained this, Umbridge became hysterical, and blamed Lady Potter. Granted, she'd used wildly vulgar phrasing for that, but still. It seemed to have triggered a spell on the woman, so maybe there was some merit to the accusation. Dolores Umbridge began spewing a barrage of things, things he quickly began to realize were crimes that she had committed. He set about having someone to witness her confessions so that they could be stored in memory vials, before making up the cot in his office; as it seemed he would be needed sooner rather than later to deal with the headache that would come from this.

Chapter 112

While it had been a shock at first, being captured and then dumped in the blink of an eye, Neville had to say that things weren't all that bad after he calmed down. He started seeing more and more students show up, even some from the Inquisitorial Squad. Eventually, they were all down there…Well, all but a certain group…and Fred and George for some odd reason that should probably have terrified everyone. He'd seen Hera standing in the hall with magical fire that blazed with greens and golds even as it lazily wafted off of her, how her eyes had glowed with the magic that was in them, and knew that she had to have come into a significant power boost to be giving off waves of excess magic like that.

No one had expected the viewing screen to pop up, though it soon became obvious that Hera hadn't done it. She looked to Fred and George, after having given a list of things she wanted to do to that woman, and she'd asked them what they wanted. Many had offered their suggestions, all of them had been violent, even knowing she couldn't hear them. What followed was shocking, and more than a little morbid. While some turned away to be sick, not one of them looked at Hera with judgment or condemnation.

They watched as Snape healed the wound just enough that Umbridge wouldn't die during transport. They watched as Hera Potter pulled an ugly sort of sludge like substance out of Umbridge's body with magic, sat with baited breath as she coaxed the sludge into something shining. It disappeared into the stone, and the very atmosphere around them began to feel warm and light. Magic…that sludge had been Umbridge's magic…It didn't bear thinking about that the woman was so foul as to have magic like that, but it was mind blowing that Hera had the ability to cleanse magic; for surely that's what she'd done.

Some time after it was all over, the mouth of the statue in the central chamber opened up, and the screaming started. Fred and George Weasley came flying out of it showering fireworks and what Neville suspected was glitter upon the crowd of students, effectively stopping the terrified screaming and starting the cheering. Professor Snape strolled into the room not long after, looking completely unimpressed; which Neville took as a sign the man was tired beyond belief. He'd been paying attention now that the man was no longer quite so antagonistic to him, and had learned to pick up on a few signs. Hera's size changing wolf walked into view after that; big enough to hold Ron, Draco, Luna and Hermione on his back, much to the cheers of everyone.

The basilisk Hera had also collected as a familiar slowly made his way into the room. Hagrid had actually been pretty thrilled to showcase basilisks in one of their lessons, so Neville remembered that this one was a male as indicated by the red feather, though he was sure Hera had told him at some point as well. Silver scales glistened as the basilisk raised up to tower over everyone, and then there was Hera. She sat on top of the basilisk, above its eyes, still giving off waves of excess magic in the form of the green and gold fire. If anything, she certainly knew how to make an entrance.

As the basilisk lowered his head, Hera grinned as she announced. "Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets."

While most of the upper years were content to be guided back to their dorms, the younger years were convinced that piling up on Fenrir was the best use of their time. Fenrir – cuddle monger that he was – absorbed the attention like a sponge, sprawled out to let as many children pet him as they could manage. Jör – not to be outdone – shrank himself down till he was small enough to fit into a First Year's hands, and soon had his very own army of little ducklings cooing over how cute he was. Hera was coordinating with Snape and the prefects, when her forehead began to feel like it was splitting open. Her hand went to her scar out of habit, but though the pain felt as if it radiated with every heartbeat, it was not focused on her scar; it felt as if someone had taken a battering ram to her mind.

"Easy. Sit down. I'm surprised this didn't happen earlier." She heard Snape say, even as she felt herself be guided to a seat. "There are side effects to ascending to godhood, you know."

"Not…" She winced, her head feeling like it was splitting open. "Wrong cause…Stone…I need…"

The Soul stone was in her hand within a blink, and the pain radiating from her scar lessoned. While it was not Mind, the bolster to her soul was like a balm. The battering did not lesson, and in fact grew more insistent. It would start hurting the way it initially had if she couldn't find a way to stop it…Opening up her mind could do it, allow herself to hear the message without pain, but it could just as easily rip her mind to shreds.

Hera looked to Snape, eyes pained and filled with tears. "Pray this works?"

He didn't get a chance to ask what she meant, as before the alarm had fully registered on his face she was opening her mind to whatever was trying to get in.

~I have something you want…someone important to you~

"Who are you?" Hera asked out loud – old habit – knowing that it would still register to them.

"Potter…" Snape trailed off, floundering.

She shook her head and continued. "Who do you have?"

The image of a grizzled man appeared before them, startling Hera into standing up once more. No one else reacted, so she had to assume that they couldn't see him. There was a purple glow to the image, the source of which Hera identified easily. The Power Stone. It rested within an orb the man held. So, she'd been right.

"You look like shite." Hera snorted. Nott Sr. was busy looking around at everyone in the chamber in confusion. "No one else can see you, you horse's arse. It's just me. Now, who do you have?"

Hera's blood ran cold as Tony's bound and bloodied figure appeared next to Nott Sr.

Hera,…don't – umph! Toy tried to warn her, though he was cut off when someone out of view kicked him.

"You mother fucking son of a bastard's whore, if you don't let Tony go, I'll-" Hera swore, until she saw a knife precariously close to Tony's throat. "Stop!"

~I thought that might change your tune~ Nott Sr. chuckled low, a twisted and cruel sort of sound. ~Do you know how easy it was to steal him away? Child's play. Now, you will do as I say, or else all you'll find of your precious brother is him dead having been strung up from the Tower of London those foul muggles love so much by his intestines.~

I don't even rate the tallest building? I'm surprised you would even know that one anyway.Tony coughed. I would have gone with something a bit more modern myself, but you're just this shy of asking Snow White if she wants an apple

Nott Sr. lost all decorum then, and kicked Tony hard enough that he slumped out of view.

~You will come to the Ministry, specifically to the Department of Mysteries, and you will pick up the prophecy!~

"You mean the one that's not about you?" Hera reposed in disbelief, trying not to lose her composure. "Your Dark Lord isn't even…The prophecy isn't about…It won't help you!"

~You will do what I say, or I WILL kill your brother, do you understand me?~ Nott Sr. Shouted.

Hera could only nod in reply, before a thought struck her, and then she couldn't help herself. "How's the arm?"

She could have sworn that Nott Sr's gaze turned sharp as he scowled at her.

"Hurts, doesn't it? You can feel it taking power from you even as it gives you its power…" Hera continued, because the man had gone stone still and she had him. "…only…You don't seem to have any of your own anymore, not after what you did."

~Shut up!~

"You're on borrowed time." Hera continued, analysing him further. "You have to be feeding it something. Artefacts, perhaps? Rare things of great and terrible power…They won't be enough, and you know it."

~What would be?~ Nott Sr demanded. Oh, yes, she had him; or the Power stone did.

"The power of a god." Hera revealed. Several people around her stilled at that. "What do you say? You're going to die either way. Quick and painless, or slow and agonizing; makes no never mind to me."

~I'll find a way~

"No. You won't. Power like that wasn't meant to be held by anything less powerful than a god, and even they don't always take it well." Hera stated, cutting off that avenue of hope. "I can give you a quick and painless death. I can give you a moment with your son. Isn't that better than holding onto power for power's sake?"

Nott Sr seemed to waver for a moment, before his expression twisted into something resolute. ~You will meet me here, or your brother will die. You have one hour~

…and then he was gone…

"Mother fucker!" Hera shouted, whirling around to kick a bit of rubble that she'd been sitting on moments before, and was shocked into calming down when she saw the thing split in half. "Oh dear."

"Uh…Hera?" Neville waved awkwardly, before tilting his head slightly and looking in the direction of the First Years.

Hera's eyes widened at their delightfully scandalized faces, and she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "None of you are allowed to use cuss-words until you can tell me how to properly apply for a mortgage!"

She was making her way to the side entrance that lead out onto the grounds before she'd stopped speaking.

"Hera, wait!"

"What?!" She snapped, whirling around. "There is a psychopath who is having to throw everything he has at a piece of one of the fundamental building blocks of the universe just to keep himself alive, up to and including the life force of those around him, and he. has. my. brother!"

"We're coming with you." Ron declared, looking at her like he was daring her to object. "…So…any ideas?"

"Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" Ginny snorted, giving her brother a look.

"Okay, first of all. We aren't doing anything if you're including yourself in that." Hera informed her, irritably. "You're too-"

"I'm three years older than you were when you first fought You-Know-Who!" Ginny shot back fiercely.

"You don't know how many are with him." Neville spoke up, quietly. "I know your shield brethren are going, but this is one instance where you might need the extra back up."

"It really isn't." Hera tried. She was running out of time, damn it!

"I can't not go." Neville pressed. "She'll be there. You know she will."

"We want to help."

"Yeah!"

"Fine, but for the love of fuck, can we get moving already?" Hera huffed, whirling back around and continuing on her goal to the side entrance. More giggling from the First Years. "I really shouldn't attempt to shadow step like this, and we're really going to need the room to take off."

"Quick question, how are we getting there again?" Draco inquired, sounding like he was following.

She didn't look back around to check as she shouted. "BY BOAT!"

…

"She serious, you think?" Fred wondered. George shrugged, and the two made off to chase after her.

Hermione looked after her friend, her mind racing with plans and backup plans.

"Stay with her. She's going to crash at some point. It'll be like summoning sickness. You know how to treat it, yes?" Professor Snape spoke quickly. Hermione nodded in understanding.

"Think you can get to Sirius and the others?" She asked, knowing time was running out. She'd have to run to catch up.

"We'll be along shortly." He confirmed. "Now go."

Hermione just hoped it would be soon enough.

…

"I really hope this works." Hera whispered to herself.

Taking the coin out of her pocket, she flips it into the air. It's nothing more than a coin…for a moment. As it ascends, it begins to morph and twist, growing until it becomes the ship she needed it to be. Skíðblaðnir was a beautiful feat of engineering, one of the only things Hera felt the dwarves could hold over the goblins, looking as if a Viking longboat had been stylized in art nouveau. The others gasped as they came into view, upon seeing the floating ship waiting for them.

"Now, let's get going." Hera advised, stepping onto the boat.

She would not admit to the slight internal panic attack at the thought that maybe Loki hadn't passed on his memories of how to fly a skiff while she tried to familiarize herself with the controls. She really should have done this sooner. Their maiden voyage was going to be on a hastily slapped together rescue mission, and Hera is worried that would only lead to failure, and failure meant…She couldn't fail; she couldn't. The dimensions of the ship slowly begin to shift, telling her that the others are making their way onto the vessel as well.

No one spoke, and Hera wouldn't have been much for conversation regardless. With Draco guiding them by the stars, she plotted their coarse. She could hear Hermione in the back ground muttering, likely checking over Draco's advice or going over spells to use in the fight ahead. The others were silent as the seriousness of what they were about to do hit them; the trip passing by quickly and yet with agonizing slowness. When they finally made it, everyone exited quickly, and the ship returned to a coin once more.

"Wild." Ron whispered in wonder, picking up the coin and then tossing to her. They were all in the old telephone box quickly enough, though it was a bit of a tight fit. "Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!"

George managed it, though his arm was bent bizarrely to reach the dial.

As it whirred back into place the cool female voice sounded inside the box. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Hera Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Fred Weasley, Neville Longbottom, George Weasley, and Luna Lovegood." Hera rushed through the words. "We're here to save someone!"

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes." Half a dozen badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. "Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Fine!" Hera snapped. "Now can we move?!"

The floor of the telephone box shuddered, and the pavement rose up past the glass windows of the box. With a dull grinding noise, they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic; Draco cringing away from the walls with a look of distaste. A chink of soft golden light hit their feet and, widening, rose up their bodies as they arrived at the Atrium. The light was dimmer than it had been by day. No fires burned under the mantelpieces set into the walls, but the golden symbols continued to twist sinuously in the dark blue ceiling.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," said the woman's voice when the lift stopped and the door opened, as everyone toppled out.

The only sound in the Atrium was the steady rush of water from the golden fountain, where jets from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and the house-elf's ears continued to gush into the surrounding pool.

"Come on." Hera called to them quietly, and she began leading them through to where she'd been taken to view the prophecy the first time.

While they made their way through, Hera noticed that the security man wasn't where he should have been, which made her wonder. How had the prisoners gotten into the Ministry in the first place? Why hadn't Amelia Bones contacted her? Would she have even thought to, where Hera was technically a child? The woman did seem to be more of the type to let children actually be children, and hadn't really wanted to ask Hera for help with Umbridge in the first place.

The feeling of foreboding only increased as they passed through the golden gates to the lifts. She pressed the nearest down button and a lift clattered into sight almost immediately, the golden grilles slid apart with a great, echoing clanking, and they dashed inside. Hera stabbed the number nine button, the grilles closed with a bang, and the lift began to descend, jangling and rattling. She had not realized how noisy the lifts were the previous times she'd had to use them, as there'd always been some other background noise to dampen it.

"Department of Mysteries." The voice sounded, and the grilles slid open once more.

"Let's go." Hera whispered, and led the way down the corridor.

She couldn't help remembering the last time she'd been here, how pale Arthur had been. Chancing a look over her shoulder, Hera caught the eyes of her friends and smiled in thanks. Ron and Draco had taken the back, Hermione and Luna the front, with Ginny and Neville in the middle and Fred and George on either side. It was a good plan. There was enough goblin made armour and shielding amongst them that it covered most deficits.

Finally, they made it to the large circular room. Everything in there was black including the floor and ceiling — identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue, their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor so that it looked as though there was dark water underfoot. It is at this moment that Hera is especially glad for her ability to see magic, for the walls slowly began rotating, moving the doors with them. The walls picked up speed, making the doors blur, and then everything stopped.

"What was that about?" whispered Ron warily.

"I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in from," Ginny supplied, in a hushed voice.

"How're we going to get back out?" Neville inquired, uncomfortably.

"We can worry about that later." Hera reminded them. "I know Tony is in danger, but he might not be the only one."

"No security." Draco realized.

"If something's happened to them, we can try and help after we save Hera's brother." Ron assured them. "Where do we go, Hera? I don't know this part of the Ministry."

"We go through this door, I think." Hera stated, gesturing to the one she was guiding them towards. "Then there's another one that kind of glitters. I'll know it when I see it."

She realized the moment they stepped into the room that it was the wrong one, that she'd once again overestimated her ability to see magic; perhaps things were still settling from the ascension. It was quite empty except for a few desks. In the very middle of the room there was an enormous glass tank of deep-green water, big enough for all of them to swim in. There were quite a number of pearly white objects drifting around lazily in the liquid. All of them were drawn to it, despite the seriousness of the situation they were in.

"What're those things?" whispered Ron.

"Dunno." Hera admitted, taking a closer look.

"Are they fish?" Ginny wondered.

"Aquavirius maggots!" Luna breathed excitedly. "Dad said the Ministry were breeding —"

"No." Hermione interjected, sounding oddly strained somehow, moving forward to look through the side of the tank. "They're brains."

"Brains?"

"I wonder what they're doing with them?"

"I'd rather not ask." Hera grimaced, backing away. "Let's get out of here."

So they hurried back the way they came, and the room spun again. Thankfully, the next one she picked was more promising. She knew it at once by the beautiful dancing lights that sparkled like diamonds. Clocks gleamed from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room.

"This way!"

Her heart hammered frantically in her chest, thankful that they were on the right track; fearful that they were already too late. She led the way forward down the narrow space between the lines of desks, heading for the source of light, the crystal bell jar quite as tall as they were that stood on a desk and appeared to be full of a billowing wind. Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draft, its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

"This is it." Hera realized, seeing the door beyond it. "It's through there."

She looked back to them all. They had their wands out, anxious but determined. She looked back at the door and pushed it open. The room beyond had a ceiling as high as a church, and was filled with nothing but rows upon rows of towering shelves that held the small dusty glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves.

"When I was here last, it was in row ninety seven." Hera whispered softly. "I don't know what's going to happen. Keep your wands out, and be ready for anything."

…

It had been a long time since he'd been taken hostage. It hadn't gotten any better since then. If anything, Tony was embarrassed that it had been so easy for them to grab him. Magic or not, he should have been able to fight back a little, but he hadn't been. He swore, if he made it out of this, he was going to take Hera up on her offer of training.

Here he was, beaten and restrained, waiting for his little sister to save him. Fuck, he was pathetic. She shouldn't have to come to save him. He should be able to get himself out of this mess, but he knew she wouldn't see it that way, and neither would he if the roles were reversed. It felt a little humiliating to be the one in need of saving, but they both would charge forward without a thought if the other were in danger.

"We're finally going to kill baby Potter." Bag of Cats crazy lady squealed happily, breaking him out of his thoughts. "I can't wait!"

"Over my dead body, you bitch." Tony coughed out. They'd done a number on his ribs, and he still hadn't managed to get his hands free.

Bag of Cats danced between the rest of the Death Eaters, heading towards him. He was bound with nothing but a simple ribbon, but it might as well have been chains for how they held him. If there was any spell he absolutely hated, it was the ones that kept him from moving when he was determined to do something. They had taken him as a bargaining chip to lure Hera in, and it had worked. He could faintly hear them searching for him, but he'd be damned if these fucking Death Eaters were going to kill his little sister.

"You show such spirit." Bag of Cats lady purrs, giggling at his disgust. "Will you still be the same, I wonder, after I kill your wittle sister?"

"You can try," Tony chortled, though it sounded strangled. "but you're more likely to die than she is."

He had learned quickly that crucios hurt, and his screams filled the air even as his body tried to spasm out of its confines, causing him to all over onto his side.

"You dare!" She shouted angrily.

"Lady, I haven't stopped daring since I could walk." Tony snorted, his voice painful against the abused muscles of his throat.

"Where is he?!"

Hera is suddenly there, her face twisted in rage. She's got green and gold fire coming off of her too, which he imagines is a recent development. Are her eyes glowing? Her eyes are definitely glowing. When her eyes find him, they widen in shock, and he knows what he must look like; they hadn't exactly been kind during his stay in their care.

"I told you not to come." He managed to get out.

"As if I were going to listen to that." She scoffed, though he could hear the worry in her voice.

"Potter." Grizzled Old Guy calls, stepping forward. "The prophecy. You will get it for me."

"I told you before, Nott, it won't help you." Hera stated, turning her gaze to the man. "Now, release my brother."

"You don't get to dictate the rules to me!" G-O-G snarled.

Hera only grinned, something twisted and cruel, as she replied. "And you clearly don't understand who you're speaking to." She looks to a random DE. "Go on. Try to call your magic to you."

A moment later there was a panicked flurry of movements, and then… "It's gone! There's nothing there!"

"Oh, it's there, it's just dormant. You won't be able to access it as long as you're around me…any of you." She revealed, clearly enjoying their torment. "You've just pissed off a god of Magic, you see. I would take care of what you do next, before I take it from you. Tony, do you trust me?"

He's surprised to have the question so suddenly directed at him, but he nods.

"Good." She nods. "Go."

The world around him shifts, and he closes his eyes against the dizzying feeling of what he knows is apparation, though he's not sure how she's managed to transport him without touch or object. Gasps are heard around him, and he chances opening his eyes once more. Dumbledore and that Bones woman are quickly moving towards him, both of their gazes filled with concern, but Tony can only focus on Hera. She'd come for him, and had quickly removed him from the situation, but she was still there. He felt his muscles relaxed, and he was helped up into a nearby chair, various potions soon in his purview to take. He'd never been so grateful for Hera insisting with the Head of the Auror Dept that she needed to keep doses a muggle could take on hand.

"We need to go." Tony insisted, even as he reached for the potions Bones provided. "Hera's in danger. She and her friends came to rescue my ass, and now-"

"Where are they now?" Dumbledore asked, concerned.

Tony's surprised at the lack of benign grandfatherly like nature that the man normally exudes, as in its place is sheer worry, and so Tony answers.

"The prophecy."