"Wake up Helena! It's Christmas!" Hermione hissed at her excitedly.
Helena blinked away the vestiges of sleep from her eyes and sat up. "Huh?"
"It's Christmas!" Hermione repeated.
That made sense, judging by the feel of the magic in the air. There was a festive spirit about the castle. She glanced down at the foot of her bed, blinking several more times to process the sight before her.
"I've got presents!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course you do! Did you really expect none of us to get you anything? Especially after you gave me that library trunk for my birthday?"
She had known logically that she would probably get presents, of course, but after years of nothing, it was still a surprise. "The last time I got a Christmas present was from my parents." She told Hermione.
The other girl's expression dropped slightly before perking up again. "Well, you have them now!"
Helena grinned, letting sombre thoughts succumb to excitement.
There was a hand-whittled wooden flute from Hagrid, a book on esoteric magic from Susan, and a jewelled emerald necklace from Daphne, along with a variety of small tokens of goodwill from various Houses she had met at the festival.
Hermione looked awkward when they came to her gift. "I wanted to give you a book, but there wasn't anything magical I could find that you wouldn't already have, so I knitted this and asked my mum to send a copy of The Art of War. It's not much compared to the others, I know…"
Helena smiled at her widely. "It's perfect. I've been meaning to read that at some point." She glanced down at the navy scarf in her hands. "What's on this? I can feel the magic."
Hermione blushed. "A couple of runes for luck and safety, and a few charms for comfort and temperature adjustment."
"On that note, I have something for you." Helena pulled out the gold-mithril bracelet she had ordered last month from her pocket dimension.
Hermione stared at it for a moment. "What's it made of?" She asked curiously.
"Mostly mithril with a bit of gold mixed in." Helena answered.
Hermione blinked in shock. "Mithril ? Isn't that supposed to be stupidly valuable? How much did this cost? "
Helena shrugged. "Bit under sixty thousand galleons."
Hermione blinked rapidly. "Sixty… sixty thousand… by the current conversion rate that's…" She paused for a second, frowning. "Three million pounds! " She did her best to push the offered bracelet away from herself. "Where did you even get that much money?"
Helena blinked. "Family vaults. It's really not that big a deal, I have plenty more."
"You… you have plenty more." Hermione muttered faintly. "I… excuse me for asking, but how rich are you? I assumed you had maybe a few million pounds or something, but evidently I was wrong about that ."
"Just tallying up the galleons in my Gringotts vault? Over four million I can spend, and another twenty that's locked behind various requirements."
"How ?"
"A lot of old Wixen families don't really need to buy anything. Money from various deals, blackmail, dowries, wars, patents on magical discoveries, businesses… it all adds up. Of course, most of them aren't quite at the total in my Gringotts vault, but Weasley excluded, pretty much all the Sacred Twenty-Eight and most other Noble and Most Ancient Houses are loaded. Pretty sure House Bones has about a million galleons or so that Susan will have access to when she reaches her majority."
"What about the Malfoys?" Hermione asked after a moment.
"Them, the Greengrasses, and the Selwyns all have a similar amount in their Gringotts vault as me. Of course, that's not counting any other assets, and the worth of all of House Black's artefacts, books, and properties is… a lot. In any case, the cost of this," she held out the bracelet, "won't hurt me. It's practically pocket change."
"I don't think you know the meaning of that term." Hermione muttered under her breath. "I can't accept that much. That's worth more than my parent's house! You can't just… give me that!"
"I think you'll find that I can." Helena said. "Besides, I can't exactly get a refund. There really isn't anything for you to do except take it, for the sake of my peace of mind at least. It's got an absurd number of enchantment on it… resizing, anti-theft, comfort, you can tap it to make it invisible, spells to prevent anyone from getting a hand on your genetic material for polyjuice or worse without you knowing, healing boost for minor injuries, low-level shielding… I don't want to have to find you curled on the ground in another abandoned classroom."
Hermione glared at her. "I know you're intentionally manipulating me into taking it."
"Is it working?"
Hermione sighed. "Unfortunately." She muttered, hesitantly taking the bracelet and examining it. "What are the runes?"
"Uruz, Wunjo, Gebo, Algiz, Mannaz, Laguz, and Inguz, and Ansuz as a focal point. Strength, Joy, Partnership, Protection, Humanity, Flow, and Growth, bound to Understanding. I thought they seemed like fitting choices."
Hermione nodded.
"I have one as well." She concentrated, showing the golden bracelet on her wrist. "Uruz, Kenaz, Nauthiz, Perthro, Sowilo, Othala, and Dagaz, Eihwaz. Strength, Vision, Need, Fate, Sun, Inheritance, and Dawn, bound to Death."
"Death is a little ominous, isn't it?"
Helena tapped her forehead. "Considering this, I thought it would be a good choice."
Hermione hummed. "I suppose it does rather suit you."
"There's a legilimency link built in between the pair as well, for emergencies. It doesn't work as well from a far distance, of course, but it should be more than powerful enough to work as long as we're both on the castle grounds."
Hermione looked at the bracelet again. "You're going to insist I take it no matter what I say, aren't you?"
Helena grinned. "Of course I am."
Hermione sighed. "Fine. But you aren't getting me any more gifts for the rest of our time at Hogwarts."
"Very well, my Lady." Helena replied wryly, fingers crossed behind her back.
Hermione shot her another glare before sliding the bracelet onto her wrist, and Helena turned back to the final package.
"That's quite an oddly shaped one, isn't it?" Hermione asked.
Helena shrugged and moved to open it.
She gasped upon parting the wrapping, staring at the silvery cloak that radiated Peverell Magick. With one hand, she slowly reached out to brush her fingers across the garment.
She stands floating above a bridge, before three who have mastered her domain beyond any before them, three who have prayed for her blessings. Her interactions with the people of M̶͈̜̚̚̕í̵̤͎̭͠d̶̟̻̏ğ̷̠̯̂a̴̘͕̼͒r̵̜̞͐̐̂d̷̓͜ were rare, but these men have impressed her, caught her attention and interest.
"And what gift would you have, youngest brother?"
The man stares up at her, awe shining in his eyes. After a moment of consideration, he gives his answer.
"A method of hiding, my Lady, with the power to cloak its user from even your sight, so that my line may always preserve, hidden from the eyes of those who would see it destroyed."
A whisper of power weaving through the realms, searching for the means necessary.
Thread from the greatest looms in V̴̝͆̓̾a̸̤͔͑n̷̪̩̍a̶̭̦̰̔h̶̲͆̇e̷͈̤̿͑ǐ̷̡͕̦̇m̴̡͈̺͆ , to create the item itself.
Ice from ̸̼̞̌̽͊deepest depths, so that the eyes of all but the most mighty and clever may slip off the garment.
Breath of the most powerful ̵J̴̡̫͖̗̫̈́̀ö̸̼̱̭͎̊͌t̶̟̝̦͑́͛̎u̷̢̿͂̄̃ǹ̶̡͎͛̐͂n̴̳̭̪̦͑̔̋̔ ̵̩͈̄̅͒̀͝in J̸̝̘̫̯̼͐̉̄̐ǫ̵̬̦̯͖͎́̓̉ẗ̵̡̯̭̝̫̤́́͐͝͝ư̶̛̭̰̝͖̣̼͈̌̀̃̊̃̚ͅͅn̴̢̢̘̬̙̩̝͐̃̆ḩ̶̬̮̯̪͎͍̥̀͜͝ẹ̸͍͛̑̈́i̶͇̮̮̱̰̤̪͝m̴̛͓̫͖͉̠̈́͒͌̚͘͜͜͝ , so that the thread may sustain the power of a dying star.
Leaf of the blessed tree in A̵̳͎̣͑̿l̴̜̠̞̳̑̔̐̆f̴̞̌h̵̰̹̫̣̍ë̵̤̤̤̩́̾i̶̫̞̫̿͗̿͠m̴̩͑ , an offshoot of the mighty Y̷̜̺̖͌̑g̸̫̱̓̕͜͝g̷̰͑͝d̸̬́ṟ̸̗͋ă̶̧̩̟̄s̸̫̤̼̒̅͝ḭ̶̖̉̀l̶̬̺̅̍ , to grant favor in the eyes of fate to the one who wears her masterpiece.
Uru from the Vaults of Ą̶̮̥͉́̈́͠š̷̛͈̺̜͉̕g̷̖͂ͅa̷̢͇͕̘̞̍̿r̶̞͓͈͍̟͑̋d̵̛̩̜̞̩̪̾̈́̾͂ , so as to let seiðr take to the thread with strength everlasting and unfailing.
Flame Eternal from M̵̰̻͚̜̓̒̇ù̴̙͕̣̎s̵̖̑̅̈́̀p̷̡̡͚̻͇͋̇͋͌̎̚͠è̴̥̺̫̦͒͂̽̉͝l̷͓͉̘̋ḩ̴͍͌̑͋̔͘͠é̸̗̆͑̀̕ĭ̸̧̞̼̳̥͍͗̌m̷̡͍̳͍͉̞̝̌͗̆̉ , taken by O̷̥̟̖̅̌̿́͐͝d̸̝̰̍̏į̶̨̬͊̕͠n̷̪̭̊̄ long ago to stall the coming of R̵͚͈̔͠a̶̝͉̤̻̘̅̑͜g̸̛̬̿̄̊̔ṋ̵͝ấ̸̩̩̥̩̖̻̉͌̉ŕ̶̛̜͇͇̠͌̇̾ö̸͇̱̟̊͝k̸̨̡̝͍͚͖̃ , used to delicately burn rune after rune into the fabric.
A thread of G̷͈͙̔̃l̶͙̘͇͐e̵̝̦̬̽̅į̴̗͍́͐͊p̸̨͓̆̚n̷͖̳͑̿̚ỉ̶͎r̶̹̐̉͝ , the chain that once bound her trusted steed, to bind the powers together in her image.
The power of N̸̗͓͔̊̕ī̶̝̱̄d̸̞͙̫̤̆̊̅̒a̸̪͍̹̗͛͐v̷͎́ḙ̸̂͝l̶͖̯̝̐̉͛l̸̥͍̀̉̂ï̸͈̅r̷͙̙̻̓̐̔͘ͅ'̶̆͝ͅs̵͉̰͌̈͂̕ forge, her seiðr mixing with the full strength of a dying star and her seven chosen powers to forge a silvery cloak that may let the wearer pass unseen beneath the gaze of even the great watcher H̷̗̊͋e̵̢̺͋͐͂į̶̨̛̅̚ͅm̵̡͋̽́d̸̘̪̽a̶͑̕ͅl̵̪̪̲̔l̴̻͋̇ himself.
She passes the object to the M̶̡̖̈́̉i̵̧͗͋d̶̘̘̹͊̀g̶̯͕̏a̴̻͕̒̂̋r̷̗͚̆̉d̸̨̤͇̅̃ï̷͎̼ȧ̸͕̖n̶͚͉̩͐̔̃ , who takes it reverently. He bows his head low before her.
"Thank you, my Lady."
She nods to him.
"May the Norns favour you. Use your gift wisely, Ignotus Peverell."
Helena pulled back from the Cloak, breathing quickly as she snapped out of the… whatever that had been.
"Helena? Are you alright?" Hermione asked.
"Who…" Helena took a deep breath, "...the fuck..." she exhaled, "...gave me a Deathly Hallow as a Christmas present?"
Hermione blinked. "What's a Deathly Hallow?" She frowned at Helena. "Are you sure you're okay? Your eyes are dilated."
"When you first got your wand, did you get a kind of rush?"
Hermione nodded, looking confused. "The magic felt overwhelmingly right ." She said.
"That's what I'm feeling right now." Helena explained, reaching out her hand hesitantly to brush the fabric again, relieved when it didn't trigger another… Vision? Memory? Hallucination? The Cloak was silky and soft to the touch, and she ran her hand over it reverently, the Peverell Magick flooding her senses intoxicatingly.
"...I'm still not really getting what's going on." Hermione said. "The Deathly Hallows… aren't they from a wizarding fairy tale? I remember Susan and Daphne arguing about them now, when we were discussing possibilities for the package. Three Artefacts, supposedly given to three brothers by Death itself, which is absurd even by Wixen standards. Susan insisted that they were real and made by the Peverell brothers, and Daphne thought they were just a myth." She stared at the Cloak in Helena's hands. "You mean that you think that is the Cloak of Invisibility?"
"It radiates Peverell Magick." Helena said.
Hermione frowned at her. "How do you know what Peverell Family Magick feels like? Unless…" Her eyes narrowed. "You have another Heirship, don't you?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Explain how you know then, if you're not Heiress Peverell."
She debated the consequences of lying briefly in her head. It was instinct, ingrained after years of the Dursleys, never to let anyone know more than she could help. Her hand twitched… a quick Obliviate and she could hide the Hallow, erasing any suspicions from Hermione's mind.
But there was a trust building up between Hermione and her, and she doubted that a missing memory would slip the attention of the other girl for long. Mindscapes were annoying like that. And even if she simply lied, the truth would come out in time, and that trust would be damaged.
Still, it was too big a risk to simply tell her… at least without precautions.
"I need a magical oath." She said after a moment. "Swear that you won't tell what I'm about to tell you to anyone without my express permission."
Hermione hesitated, then nodded and drew her wand. "I, Hermione Jean Granger, swear upon my Magic that I will not intentionally tell anyone anything about anything Helena Iris Potters tells me about her connection to House Peverell or the details of her ability to identify Peverell Family Magick, unless she gives express permission for me to do so, or the information endangers her life. So Mote it Be."
A flash of golden light confirmed the Oath. Hermione winced slightly.
Helena tilted her head consideringly. "I suppose it'll do."
"Now tell me how you're apparently not Heiress Peverell." Hermione demanded.
Helena smirked. "You were wrong. I'm not Heiress Peverell." She worded carefully. Hermione opened her mouth, so she carried on before the other girl could speak. "I'm Lady Peverell."
She raised her hand to show the Head of House Ring. Hermione gaped for a couple seconds.
"But… how? You aren't of age, and Daphne said that House Peverell hasn't had a Head in over seven hundred years!"
"Those two things go together actually. The laws requiring a Head of House to be over seventeen were passed a few centuries after the Peverell seat went dormant."
"But why hasn't there been a Head for so long?" Hermione asked.
"There are very specific requirements to claim the title, Hermione. I'm simply the first descendant from a primary line since Agnothon who's met them."
"Family Secret?" Hermione asked, exasperation clear in her voice.
"Can't tell you, even under Oath." Helena confirmed.
Hermione was silent for a moment before speaking up again. "So you already have seats on the Wizengamot."
"The age laws prevent me from actually actively participating in sessions, regardless of my Ladyship, so I'd have to appoint a Proxy. In any case, I intend to claim them at the same time as my other seats for dramatic effect, if nothing else." She glanced back at the Cloak. "But back to more important subjects…"
"The apparently not-so-fictional Deathly Hallow?" Hermione asked.
Helena nodded, reaching to examine the packaging curiously, finding a slip of paper. "There's a note."
Written in narrow, loopy, handwriting, were two lines:
Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.A Very Merry Christmas to you.
She passed it to Hermione to read, who frowned at it. "There's no signature. Do you recognize the handwriting?"
Helena shook her head. "Nope, which means I've never seen it before." She took the note back, quickly checking it over for spells before slipping it into her pocket dimension in case it was useful later. "Who gives someone one of the most powerful artefacts in magical history, one of three most prized Heirlooms of my House, and doesn't sign their name?" She examined the Cloak carefully with magesight and cast a couple quick charms, making sure there weren't any malicious enchantments on it. She doubted anyone could successfully alter a Hallow, of course, but best to be safe. To her relief, she found nothing.
"You still haven't explained why you just completely froze when you first touched the cloak." Hermione commented inquisitively. "You just looked… blank."
"I saw a… Vision? Memory? Not sure."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Is that… expected, do you think, with something like this?"
Helena shook her head. "None of the Peverell books mentioned it, and I've never displayed any capability for psychometry. Besides, it wasn't Ignotus's memories I saw."
"What did you see, then?" She asked curiously.
"It's… a lot of flashes, mostly, but I'm pretty sure I saw the Cloak's creation."
Hermione frowned. "But I thought the Peverell brothers made the Hallows."
Helena shook her head. "If what I saw was correct… The Tale of the Three Brothers is a bit more accurate than most assume."
Hermione stared at her for a few seconds in confusion before realisation dawned. "You… you think you saw the memories of Death ?"
Helena nodded, then frowned. "Well, I don't think it was quite the primordial, capital D death that you're probably thinking of. There was an actual process to creating the Hallow, even if I can't remember it completely clearly, and I can't imagine a truly all-powerful being needing that." She frowned. "This is really strange, to have some semblance of forgetting something. Anyway, she didn't feel like an omnipotent being, just an absurdly powerful one. Think more of the classical pantheons than biblical."
Hermione looked faint. "You're talking about deities being real." She seemingly desperately latched onto a random part of her explanation. "She?"
Helena shrugged. "It was the pronouns used in my thoughts during the vision. Might just be because of my own gender of course, but I got the feeling of a Goddess."
"I suppose I have a new research project." Hermione muttered after a moment. She glanced back to the Cloak. "Are you actually going to try that thing on, or not?"
Helena grinned and raised her signet ring to the Cloak, tapping into the Peverell Magick and pouring it into the Cloak. It responded by fluttering slightly as it came in contact with the power.
"What was that?" Hermione asked.
"Little quirk of the Cloak, according to the family books." Helena explained. "In the hands of anyone but a Peverell, it functions fine, but pretty much just acts as a normal invisibility cloak. It's still presumably indestructible or course, doesn't lose its power over time like most invisibility cloaks, and has a few special properties, but in the hands of a Peverell it's much more powerful. I poured some Family Magick into it so it recognizes me as Lady Peverell."
She picked up the Cloak and draped it over her. "Well, how do I look?"
"You don't." Hermione replied dryly.
This was useful, Helena thought, but it would be rather inconvenient to have to walk around with a blanket-like object draped over her to be invisible. If only it worked as an actual cloak…
The Cloak reshaped itself around her body, though her continued invisibility presented a slight problem for seeing the change. Huh. Well, if that worked… She carefully focused on wanting to be visible, and after a moment, the Hallow complied. She glanced down to find herself in the set of elegant but simple black robes similar to her normal ones.
She focused on invisibility again, and disappeared. Turning back visible was easier this time, and she grinned widely at Hermione.
The other girl looked bewildered. "What? How did you? Where did the cloak-"
Helena grinned. "Apparently, owning one of the most powerful artefacts in history is also really useful for fashion."
Understanding flashed across Hermione's face. "It can change to act like whatever you want? And you can turn the invisibility on and off?"
Helena nodded. "Books didn't mention this, probably as a security measure in case anyone ever managed to steal them. Definitely going to come in handy though."
Hermione nodded eagerly. "How does that work? Even basic self-transfiguring objects are really complicated… if it can shift into any piece of clothing…"
Helena frowned, concentrating and flicking through a few styles of robes. "I don't think it does anything , just robes and the like. Probably needs to remain generally faithful to the 'cloak' idea. It feels the same magically no matter what, so I'm pretty sure it's still the same base object, just shaped a little differently."
Hermione considered. "I suppose that makes some sense. Some kind of super-advanced refitting enchantment of sorts, combined with a really powerful glamour or other illusion and spells to adjust the feel of the material to be consistent with the modified appearance."
Helena looked down at the Cloak and concentrated, shifting it to match the standard Hogwarts robes. Another moment of focus and a few charms and she managed to hide the magic of the Cloak enough that it wouldn't stand out too significantly compared to her own. Hopefully, anyone who noticed something would just assume she had a small spike of Magical Core growth. Nothing atypical, especially around a major magical day like the Solstice.
She was definitely going to experiment more with the Cloak later. But for now, she and Hermione had the Christmas feast to get to. Helena stood up, flicking her hand to pack her presents in a bag quickly, summoning the emerald necklace from Daphne to drape over her neck. She focused for a half-second to adjust her hair to its usual state (messy, but not looking like she had just gotten out of bed), and grabbed Hermione to drag her out the door.
The Great Hall looked even more spectacular on Christmas Day. Enchanted snow drifted down from the ceiling, disappearing upon making contact with the ground or tables. There were mountainous piles of rich foods: turkeys, potatoes, chipolatas, and more, and magical Christmas crackers were placed between every other seat. Hermione and Helena opened one together, grinning as it exploded into an illusion of a swarm of glowing gold butterflies that fluttered up into the air. A glance at the staff table showed that Dumbledore had traded out his normal pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.
Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Helena watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to her astonishment, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided. She opened another cracker with Hermione, receiving a bouquet of snowdrops in a puff of blue smoke.
They played on the grounds throughout the afternoon, engaging in a furious snowball fight with the Weasleys and a few other classmates. Afterwards, Hermione used her bluebell flames to dry them off, and they sat by the fireplace in Ravenclaw Tower, sipping hot chocolate and trading bits of magical knowledge. They had turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake for their last meal of the day, and their housemates began to filter off to bed.
After what had happened with her Affinity Rite on the solstice, Helena had decided to forego a ritual that day. It wasn't that Christmas was magically insignificant by any means; so many people around the world, Wixen or Muggle, celebrating a day every year inevitably lent said day power, but it didn't quite have the natural magical strength that the solstice did. In any case, she wasn't sure what ritual she'd even do if she had decided to do another. A Cleansing Ritual was almost always helpful, of course, but New Year's Eve was ideal for that, the night's focus of renewal and fresh starts amplifying the magic. Most of the other rituals she had found had either a permanent price she didn't feel confident in given, or wouldn't be as beneficial until her Magical Core had matured further.
In any case, Helena had something else that she wanted to try tonight.
Hermione was the only one other than her still in the common room. She leaned over to the other girl. "How do you feel about giving the Restricted Section a look?"
Hermione's eyes widened slightly. "Aren't there wards?"
"We have the Cloak of Invisibility. I don't imagine they'll prove a big problem." And even if that didn't work, Hogwarts would probably lower them if she asked nicely. "It's supposed to have books that even the Black Library doesn't."
The mention of rare books seemed to be more than enough to convince Hermione to agree, the other girl's eyes lighting up in excitement. Helena shifted the Cloak into a somewhat blanket-like cape that to wrap around both of them, and they set off.
They passed by the Grey Lady floating through the corridors. She didn't so much as glance in their direction, the Cloak obscuring their magic.
The library was pitch-black at night. Helena raised her palm and carefully drew upon her magic, summoning her golden flames to her palm so that they could see. It was an odd sight, the flames floating along in midair, supported by an invisible light.
The Restricted Section was at the back of the library. Helena carefully reached out with her magesight, examining the wards. After a moment of hesitation, she moved to carefully step over the rope placed to mark the boundary line. She held her breath for a couple seconds until she was sure the wards weren't going off. Hermione followed her, and they made their way into the Restricted Section.
The shelves were lined with ancient books, titles written in scripts Helena could only half-decipher.
They looked around for a while, getting a layout of the library, before Helena bent down to examine one particularly curious black and silver book with hieroglyphics scrawled on the side that radiated Dark Magic (though not, Helena made sure, in the form of a curse). The shelves were warded against magical manipulation of the books, so she had to lift it out by hand, carefully extracting it. Hermione had cast a Lumos when she had to put out her flames to get the book, and now peered over her shoulder as she opened the book, only to jump back when it gave a piercing shriek. Helena swore and slammed the book shut, but the shriek didn't stop. She pushed it back into its place on the shelf and stood up, hearing footsteps coming down the corridor outside.
"Put your wand out." She whispered to Hermione. "And move with me, quietly but quickly."
Hermione complied, and they made for the corridor. They passed Filch in the doorway, who stared straight through them with pale, wild eyes, and slipped under his outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in their ears.
They paused at a suit of armour to get a sense of their surroundings. "This…" Hermione hissed, her face flushed from exertion, "...is the last time I follow you on one of your crazy ideas."
Helena grinned at her. "Oh, we both know you're lying."
Hermione's lips twitched up into a reluctant smile. "Perhaps." She admitted after a moment.
They fell silent as Filch's voice rang out nearby. "You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and someone's been in the library - Restricted Section."
Snape's silky voice replied to the caretaker, coming closer and closer to the pair. "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."
Helena and Hermione stayed rooted to the spot for a second as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. Helena glanced around. The Professor couldn't see them, of course, and the Cloak would provide cover from Homenum Revelio or any similar spells, but it was a narrow corridor, and if they came much closer they'd bump right into the pair. No matter how good the Hallow was, it didn't stop the wearer from being solid.
The two girls backed away as quietly as they could, slipping into a conveniently ajar door to their left. Helena considered casting a Notice-Me-Not, but decided against it; she didn't want to risk Snape detecting the magic. To her relief, Filch and Snape walked straight past. She listened to their footsteps fade away for several seconds before she turned to look at the room they had found themselves in.
Hermione made to talk, and she pressed a finger to the girl's lips on instinct. There was a slight off feeling about the room, and something told her it would be better for them to remain silent for now.
Hermione glared at her for her action, but gave a slight nod of understanding.
The room looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket - but propped against the wall facing them was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.
It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. An inscription was carved at the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
I show not your face but your heart's desire.
Helena examined it curiously, concentrating on her magesight. The mirror glowed with power; indecipherably complex layers of spells woven over it. It felt similar to the Necronomicon pages, in a way, though there was no Death Magick spun into the glass. The intensity of the magic was on a similar level, though, ancient magic grown only more powerful over time.
Without thinking, she moved to step in front of it. Hermione was forced to follow in order to stay under the Cloak herself.
She lifted her gaze into the mirror, and stared at the reflection as it shifted from the room to something else.
The figure in the mirror looked several years older than her, and was dressed in sharp black and blue robes. She sat atop a creature Helena had only seen in pictures: a brilliant white pegasus with black highlights. Hermione, also looking several years older, sat just behind her in the reflection. There was a wide smile on both of their faces as they soared through the blue sky, far above the clouds.
An overwhelming barrage of feeling hit Helena as she stared at the image. It was like the sensation she had experienced upon first flying on a broomstick amplified a thousandfold; the pure delight of freedom overwhelmingly strong. Everything disappeared in her thoughts; concerns about Voldemort, the Headmaster, Politics, Daphne, Susan, The Dursleys, Magic… why did it matter? She could stay here, standing and gazing into this mirror forever, lost in the blissful fantasy before her.
No.
She yanked her gaze away from the mirror, occlumency shields ramming up in an attempt to escape the enchantment. For a second, she could've sworn it flickered to an image of a mighty golden palace, but she wouldn't let herself look back to find out if it was simply a trick of her eyes or not.
She turned her head to look at Hermione, careful not to look in the mirror herself, and found she was gazing at the mirror with a transfixed expression. She reached for her and slowly pulled her away from the mirror. Hermione tried to resist, but Helena was a good bit stronger from exercise, and pulled her away. Hermione let out a small gasp as her eyes finally left the mirror.
"It's cursed." Helena whispered to her. "Don't look back, or I don't think you'll ever be able to look away."
Hermione nodded, but seemed to be having to force herself not to.
A tiny, near undetectable flicker of movement from the other side of the room caught her eye, and she glanced at it, eyes furrowed. She searched with her magesight again, focusing on the other side, and managed to find something: a magical signature that she only somewhat recognized, having felt it before in Hogwarts' wards.
Albus Dumbledore's magic was beyond any other beings that Helena had encountered. It was a quiet power; not eager to announce itself like so many other Wixen's magic, but it had a subtle regality about it. And beneath the calm surface, there was a storm of magical force. Snape was the strongest teacher at Hogwarts, but the headmaster's magic outpaced his by leagues. She'd be willing to bet he could take on the entire staff twice over and win without so much as breaking a sweat.
The undercurrents of his magic shone with a hundred different aspects, far more than Helena had ever encountered before. There was a nobility, not the aristocracy of an heir or lord, but something more pure than that. He was distinctly light-aligned, but there were small hints of shadow as well, buried deep within his Core. That was not all, of course, but his magical signature was far too complex for her to fully examine.
She wondered how she had missed him before, though she had her answer to that already; for all that Dumbledore was a magical titan, the power woven into the mirror was enough to eclipse even him. She had a feeling he hadn't particularly wanted to be found either, and it tended to be harder to sense people who were actively trying not to be.
Helena carefully focused her magic into the legilimency link on her bracelet, willing a message across it to Hermione. 'Stay under the Cloak and silent. Don't move.'
She received a cautious pulse of understanding in response, and stepped forward, shrugging off the Cloak and focusing her eyes right on the spot where Dumbledore's magical signature glowed softly. "Hello, Professor."
She felt a small, soft wave of magic as Dumbledore dropped his Disillusionment Charm, revealing him sitting upon a desk in his usual purple robes. "Hello, Helena." He said calmly. If he was surprised by her recognizing him, he did not show it in any way. He spared a quick glance to the mirror, then focused on her again. She tightened her occlumency barriers further, but if he made an attempt at legilimency, she did not notice it. Still, she averted her eyes slightly, staring at his nose.
"So." He said, slipping off the desk. "I assume you, like many before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised?"
"I'm not sure if I would call them delights, sir."
"No." Dumbledore said softly, seeming to lose himself for a moment. "I suppose not." Helena wasn't entirely sure if he was speaking to her or not, but he seemed to snap back into focus after a second, turning his gaze back to hers. "I expect you've realised what it does?"
"It shows us what we want most."
"That is a simple way to put it, yes." Dumbledore said quietly. "The Mirror of Erised shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts." He paused for a second before continuing, trying and failing to meet her eyes. "However, as I think you've realised, the mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men and women have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is even real or possible."
"Like Narcissus." Helena realised.
"I do believe the story may have some connection to the mirror, yes." Dumbledore said thoughtfully, stroking his beard.
"It doesn't seem like something that should be sitting around in a school."
Dumbledore nodded. "I will be moving the mirror to a new home tomorrow, Helena. I ask you to not go looking for it. If you do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that."
Helena nodded. Dumbledore's eyes swept over her searchingly, and she pulled up her barriers further.
"Now, if I may be so bold as to ask, I will admit I am curious what you saw in the mirror."
Helena considered for a second. How best to play this? She had no desire to tell the headmaster the truth of what she saw in the mirror; telling someone your greatest desire was rarely a good idea. The obvious lie came to her, and she replied in a soft tone. "My parents."
Dumbledore nodded, and Helena thought she picked up on a small flicker of relief from him. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out the question on the forefront of her mind. "What about you?"
"My pardon?"
"What do you see in the mirror?"
"Me? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks."
Helena stared blankly at him for a moment.
"One can never have enough socks." Dumbledore said. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."
"...Interesting." Helena said after a moment, battering down her annoyance. She had at least come up with a convincing lie. "Will that be all, then?" She asked.
Dumbledore paused for a moment. "I'm afraid there is one, rather unrelated matter that I wish to speak to you about. As we are already talking, it seems prudent to do so, though if you wish to retire for the night, I would not blame you. It is terribly late, and well-past your curfew, I believe."
Helena forced herself to relax before nodding. "Go on."
The headmaster observed her over his spectacles for a moment before speaking. "I have noticed that, although all of your professors have spoken very positively of your performance in class, you do not seem to spend much time with your housemates, with the exception of Miss Granger. May I enquire why?"
Helena shrugged. He wasn't wrong; outside of Quidditch, she didn't exactly interact with the other Ravenclaws much (Hermione, of course, excluded). "I don't have the time or patience for incompetent children who can't look beyond their theory books for more than three seconds and can barely cast a simple spell." She answered honestly.
Dumbledore's gaze darkened slightly, and she tensed. After a moment, he spoke again, voice an odd combination of hard and weary. "I knew another student, once, who said much the same." He sighed. "You very much remind me of him sometimes. I would hope that you do not go down the same path he did."
"Don't worry, Professor." She said, looking up slightly to finally make eye contact with him. "I'm not Tom Riddle."
Surprise flashed across Dumbledore's face as Helena turned around, slipping back under the invisibility Cloak with Hermione to walk away.
Albus Dumbledore was rarely shaken. But tonight…
The girl knew Tom's name, and presumably that he now called himself Lord Voldemort as well. But how? He would have to figure out where the girl was getting her information, and what else she knew. Her demeanor was unnervingly similar to how he remembered Tom's, easily charming professors and gaining powerful allies among fellow students. Still, despite his concerns, she had passed his test, and he had not been forced to intervene to break her from the mirror's he would have to move the mirror back to the trap for Tom quickly, before he could succumb to the magic woven into it.
Severus was not fond of him waiting to draw Quirrell out, but he would understand in the end. The risk of confronting him in the open, when he was uncertain how much power Tom retained, was too dangerous. And if things went well, the girl would go after him, and with Tom trapped in the enchantment of the mirror, together they could successfully vanquish him for good.
He sighed, turning against his better judgement to face the artefact. Gellert waved at him, smiling delightedly, Ariana with a brilliant grin next to him. Aberforth stood in the background along with his parents, his face happier than he had seen his real brother's ever since…
Albus Dumbledore turned away, a tear dripping down his cheek.
"You didn't tell him what you really saw in the mirror, did you?" Hermione said after they were a couple minutes from the room.
"And what makes you say that?" Helena asked.
"Aside from the fact you'd never tell the headmaster the truth about something that personal?"
Helena sighed. "Yes."
Hermione shrugged. "Intuition? And… somehow I just feel like your parents wouldn't quite fit the deepest desire area. I'm not saying you wouldn't like them to be alive, but I've never really seen you… long for them, I suppose."
They kept walking under the Cloak, back towards Ravenclaw Tower.
"There's a lot of things about me that you can't see." Helena said after a moment. "But in this case, you're right."
"What did you really see?" Hermione blurted out, then instantly seemed to regret it, speaking her next words very quickly. "I'm sorry, I know, that's way too personal, you don't have to answer that."
After a minute of considering silence as they walked, Helena spoke again. "Freedom."
"What?"
"That's what I saw." Helena told her, not entirely sure why the words were leaving her mouth. Then again, if there was anyone she could trust, it was Hermione. "Freedom."
Hermione looked at her for a second before nodding. "I saw my own personal library." She admitted after a moment.
Helena paused and stared at her for a moment before bursting out into laughter. Hermione soon followed.
Several minutes later, back in their beds, Hermione asked another question.
"That last bit of conversation you had with Dumbledore… you mentioned a name."
"Did I?"
"Who's Tom Riddle? And why did Dumbledore compare him to you?"
She gazed at Hermione, brilliant, wonderful, kind Hermione, who still thought that Helena was good like she was, and lied.
"It's not important."
