1991 / 1st year

"Wait, so we're already going to your- eh, I mean, Hera's first year?" Ron froze after he looked at Harry, his friend wincing a bit at the idea of how similar and different her life would be in comparison. Especially, when he knows that she is without a doubt the reincarnation of Loki. He can only hope that her life was, at the very least, somewhat better than his.

While that would make him incredibly jealous, he would also feel grateful if that were the case. To him, no matter how much he wished his life was better, he wouldn't wish it upon anyone.

Hera Potter woke to the screeching sound of Aunt Petunia demanding for her to get up and make breakfast. The odd dream slowly faded into the background as she got ready for the morning, and if she tried to remember hard enough the details seemed to fade. She had to put it out of her mind if she didn't want to get distracted and burn the bacon again anyway. Last time she did that, Aunt Petunia hit her across the face and threw her in the cupboard for the day. Quickly, she rushed through her ablutions, and made her way to the kitchen.

Harry internally sighed. That meant that she most likely had the same life up to this point. Maybe something will change, he could only hope. He rubbed his arm where a bruise had formed from the last time Aunt Petunia had used the wooden spoon to beat him. He wasn't sure what he had done to warrant the action in her eyes, but apparently, that didn't matter.

Hermione and the Weasley family members who were in the room felt the same way as their friend. It was not something that they wanted to witness. Even Ron, Fred, and George who had been the ones to rescue the Boy Who Lived from his relatives before their second (and third) year could not help but feel disappointed. They, like Harry, had hoped that things would be different for her, but it would seem that most things stayed the same.

Dumbledore lost the twinkle in his eyes. Knowing that Harry hadn't lived a good life was different from actively witnessing it, even if it was only a flash of a memory. The idea that he was partly responsible for this happening did not sit well with him, and he hoped it wouldn't be as bad as it seemed. Though, he didn't have much hope as it was.

Severus, however, did not want to admit to being wrong about the boy. This was not substantial enough proof to show that Harry Potter had gone through the same situations. He pointedly ignored the looks and reactions of everyone else, keeping his face a blank mask and not wanting to think about the fact that if it was true, he had bullied a child for existing. He refuses to listen to the voice in the back of his head that tells him that was the main reason for James Potter and his ilk tormenting him.

Draco ignored the pain in his hand, rubbing it and remembering the time his father hit it with his cane. The fangs of the snake's head had gone into his hand; not far, but still enough to hurt significantly. That wasn't the first time something like that had happened, but the difference was that it seemed to be less often for him based on Hera's callous reaction to herself being hurt. He won't admit that it worried him, he won't. It would go against everything he had been taught.

Cooking was the one thing she actually liked to do. She knew that she was good at it, despite what the Dursleys said. No matter how much they complained, or pretended it hadn't been her who'd made it, they still ate what she gave them. Besides, she remembered eating her Aunt Petunia's cooking once, such as it was. Granted, the woman had done the bare minimum because she hated Hera, but if that was genuinely how she cooked… Well, it was better that Hera did it.

While Harry had not had the misfortune of eating something made by Petunia, he knew that it was truly and utterly terrible. He was also glad that Hera liked cooking as well. It felt nice, knowing that he wasn't the odd one out for liking one of the chores he was ordered to perform.

That was the moment that Severus realized the name Hera had been saying she lived with. Petunia. Petunia. That was not who Dumbledore had insinuated Potter was living with. The old man better has a good explanation as to why he would be living with that wretched woman. That is if the boy was living with her at all. For all he knew, this could be another difference between the two. Though, judging from how Potter reacted, he doubts his original thought process.

She shoved that dream aside, as she had so many others like it, and got to work. It was one of her secrets anyway, a cherished thing, even if she didn't understand what it meant. She put it alongside the dream about flying motorcycles, feeling that it was too precious to share with the Dursleys, even if she'd been a man getting ready to be sentenced; that man had called her… him Loki. There was something in the air that made her think of magic, not that that was real, but that hadn't been the only one like it that she'd had. The Dursleys were always saying that magic wasn't real, followed by 'don't ask questions', or vice versa. After breakfast, it was time for her to check the mail, and as she stared at a letter for Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, she wondered what else the Dursleys had been lying to her about.

Harry remembers back to that time and realizes that he had been an idiot in talking about the flying motorcycle he had dreamed about. Had he not brought it up, there might have been a chance of less of a beating or time spent in his cupboard after the whole zoo situation. Who was he kidding, they would have done worse, most likely. It hurt him to realize that it wouldn't have made a difference.

No one else understood what Harry was thinking due to never being told about that disastrous time. He was wondering if Hera would have to go through that as well, or if it was something that changed between their two lives. That made him wonder about everything different. Before curiosity could take over, the projection continued.

…

She waited till she was in her cupboard to open it, having shoved it down her blouse before it could be seen by anyone. It certainly explained a lot, but she also knew that if she were to take this to them, there would be some kind of attempt to keep her away from magic. She decided it was better if she went to London herself, and thankfully there was directions for where in London she needed to go to shop for her supplies. It was nothing then in the wee hours of the morning to break out of her cupboard, and take the money she knew Aunt Petunia kept in her purse for when she made Hera 'help the neighbors'; it should hardly count as stealing since it was her money. When the Dursleys woke up, and only a note on the table.

Now, Harry felt like a complete and total moron. Why had he not done exactly what his counterpart had? Then he went through what Hera had done after getting her Hogwarts letter, and she was able to leave before anyone woke up. All they had gotten as a warning was simply…

'I know'

Which was quite terrifying if you thought about it. 'Please,' Harry prayed. "Please, don't let them do something because of how threatening those two words brought about.

Where the Dursleys liked to pretend she didn't exist, in between making sure she was as miserable as possible, finding her way to the Leaky Cauldron was actually no hardship. The owner even let her through the back and into Diagon Alley. He'd given her a spot of advice, to go to Gringotts first, even pointing the building out to her. This must not be his first time seeing a child alone like this, with parents or guardians that hated magic. While the goblins weren't happy that she didn't have her vault key, when she explained things they were more than understanding, and issued her a new one; the matter of getting other peoples sticky fingers out of it for things like monument upkeep was really a side benefit.

"She figured out where and how to get to Diagon Alley without ever being there." Draco's jaw might not have been on the floor, but it might as well have been with the look on his face. He was shocked, and he wasn't the only one.

Hermione was startled, as well. After all, it had taken her and her parents almost a full hour to find the Leaky Cauldron due to the muggle-repellent spell on the entire building. How had she done that? It didn't seem as if she was going to get an answer.

Let's not forget the vault key! What did they mean that Hera Potter didn't have her key and that someone else did? Who could have her key?

Dumbledore wrung his hands together, nervously. He had been the one who had the boys' key and was not looking forward to seeing that on screen. Sure, it was Hagrid who had taken Harry to Gringotts, but out of all of the staff, he was the most likely candidate. Hopefully, no one brings it up.

She didn't stick to the list. Who would? She could finally have clothes that fit, have her eyesight corrected, order lots of books, prank items, (Was that a store dedicated to chocolate? Why, yes. Yes, it was), a trunk with very specific specifications, all kinds of things, and so she did. They'd charmed her glasses to be unbreakable, and to look like they had glass in them when they didn't. The only purchase she made that day that she wasn't sure about was the snowy owl that had sort of adopted her and refused to let go, but that was only because she was sure that the Dursleys would try to kill them both when she went back; and she would have to go back. She wasn't so foolish as to think she could live on her own out of the trunk or something, but if she were to have outfitted it with everything she needed to keep house, and if it was fully stocked thanks to a trip to non magical London then all the better. The Dursleys pretend she doesn't exist when she gets back, which gives her time to look over her books in her new room (Dudley's second one).

Severus scowled at the mention of prank items, holding back a derisive comment about James. The only reason was that he did not know yet what she would buy. For all he knew, it could simply be items that would not harm or humiliate others.

It was at this moment, that Harry regretted being taken to Diagon Alley by Hagrid. If he hadn't been, then maybe he would have gotten the same things as Hera did. The trunk was one of those things that he wished he had from the beginning. He wouldn't forget the part about her glasses. Knowing that Hedwig was still with him made his heart swell. He was glad she had his lovely girl with her. Harry did, however, wish that he could have lived in his trunk.

Dumbledore holds back his wince at the knowledge that the Durlseys could, and would have killed the snowy owl. He couldn't even believe that they wouldn't have forced Hera (or Harry) to watch such a thing but by the way the girl was speaking, he knew they would.

That wasn't to say no one noticed the mention of a second bedroom for Dudley. One that Hera was not allowed to be in until after getting into Hogwarts. There could be two reasons for this, but that doesn't change the fact that either way, it was a second bedroom. Second bedroom!

Someone comes to get her anyway, a rather tall man who went by Hagrid. She'd tried to explain that she'd already gone shopping, but it was like he didn't hear her, or wasn't listening. The Leaky Cauldron is a vastly different experience this time, with people crowding her just to shake her hand, but the man who introduces himself as Professor Quirrell gives her a bad feeling. Maybe it was nothing, or maybe it was a later problem. Either way, there was nothing she could do about it now.

"Huh," Harry mutters. "It seems she had the same feeling about Quirrell that I got."

Some winced at the vastly different descriptions between the two times Hera went through the Leaky. That was not a good way to interact with someone, let alone a child.

So she goes along with Hagrid, shows her own key to the teller behind his back when he places what must be her old key onto the teller's station, and takes another trip down to her vault. Hagrid picks up a grubby package, which she purposefully makes a bad showing at pretending she doesn't see. Finally, she convinces Hagrid that she needs to pick up some 'ladies things' alone, and he opted to wait in The Leaky for her. To be fair, she does actually need to do that, and spends a bit more time in various shops before she can't think of a reason to procrastinate anymore. Watching Hagrid's face turn various shades of panicked embarrassment while she's talking loudly, pretending to try to show Hagrid what she got while shopping for ladies things is an added bonus.

Snickers ring out around the room at Hera showing her key, then they quiet down when they realize who had her key. Hagrid had it. If he had it, then… They stopped their thoughts, not wanting to get into that at the moment.

The Golden Trio watched as the half-giant picked up the package, knowing exactly what it was and the chaos that was to follow the item hidden within. They could only hope that this was one of the differences, which was how that end-of-year 'test' turned out.

The girls giggle; Hera knew very well how to make people uncomfortable, that was for certain. However, they also didn't like the idea of her being alone. Sure, she had already gone to Diagon Alley before this, but this time people had seen her and knew who and what she looked like. It was still hilarious watching the different shades of red the bearded man could produce.

—

It was odd for her, seeing things others couldn't, knowing things they didn't when she'd not grown up in the world. The Dursleys had kept a strict 'Don't Ask Questions' policy with her, and so she just didn't ask about it. She could see magic around a person, especially now that she had been exposed to it more. Some felt complimentary to her, while others did not. It's how she knows the girl with facts and so much hair needs a friend, how the ginger boy with dirt on his nose needs to feel like he matters, and why she tries to befriend the blond boy who hadn't known who she was before; though that last one doesn't go so well. She knew the right sort for herself, wanted him to know that too, but she'd planned to shake his hand. She had! But then the rat bit one the bigger boys, and it was all downhill from there.

This was the second time 'Don't ask questions' was referenced. That worried the professors in the room. If that was taught to Harry as well, was that the reason why he had not asked many questions in class, if any at all? McGonagall didn't know if she wanted to find out.

Harry blinked. "I can't see magic around a person, but I could see sparkles around objects that had active magic surrounding them."

There was nothing anyone could say to that at the moment. What were they supposed to say when they found that out? Hermione was most definitely going to question her friend after this. It was not something that she could simply ignore, she found something that she didn't know about and she was going to find out as much as she could about it.

Draco, however, was sinking into his seat, not wanting to draw attention to himself for once. He remembers his own first meeting with Potter and hopes that this would be different. Hearing that the girl had been about to shake his hand shocked him. Glancing at Harry, he sees that the boy is confused. It was clear to the blonde that he had made a worse impression that day than he did with Hera.

…

She could hear Hermione spitting out facts about the ceiling, as if it could calm her. It was rather fascinating, but it did little to calm Hera. The floating candles were nice though. Behind her, Ron was talking about having to fight a troll. She hadn't even known trolls existed! When Hera realized all she would have to do was put on a hat, she relaxed. She shouldn't have.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione became nostalgic watching their smaller selves heading for their sorting. Ron didn't have any problems with his, but Hermione knew she had nearly been sorted into Ravenclaw. That has nothing on Harry, who has now realized his sorting is about to be revealed. He was worried about how Ron would react, but he was also curious about how Snape and Malfoy would react. Harry wonders if one of them would choke on their saliva. He doubts it, but one can't help but wish.

~Well, this is unusual~ Hera startled, hearing the voice in her mind. The hat? ~You are not who you appear to be, or rather, you are more than only who you appear to be~

I don't know what that means. Hera thought back.

"Probably a reference to her being the reincarnation of that God, Loki," Harry states as if everyone should have known that by now.

Everything screeched to a halt. They did not know that. Sure, Hermione and Snape had theories, but there was nothing poignant that would prove those theories. It would seem that Harry had not, and won't realize that fact.

~Don't you? No, no, not awakened yet. I see. Well then, let's have a look at you. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of wit in that mind of yours, plenty of courage too, and such cunning! There's talent. Oh, yes, there'd have to be with what I can see here. And a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you!~

Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin

The Slytherins in the room scowled or squawked in indignation. What was wrong with Slytherin house? However, they seem to also know the answer to their question, even if they refuse to say it out loud.

There was the reference to being different, something that they didn't want to admit just yet. It might give the boy a bit of an ego if they believe him before there is more information to confirm or deny his idea.

~And why not? You could be great, you know. It's all here in your head. Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, there's no doubt about that~

I just want to hide, and I won't be able to do that in Slytherin, no matter how well I'd fit. Won't be able to do that anywhere really, not with how people reacted to just hearing my bloody name. Gryffindor is what they'll expect, because of my parents. So it's where I can hide best. No one would ever expect a snake to hide in the lion's den.

Harry nodded, understanding the reasoning Hera had for why she'd rather go to Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. He can tell that Ron was surprised, not having thought of the possibility that his friend could have been in Slytherin instead, though Hermione and the twins weren't surprised at all. They had figured that if Harry would have been in any other house, it would have been Slytherin.

~That you have worked this out shows just how suited to Slytherin house you are, and it is indeed a cunning plan. If you're sure, better be~ "...Gryffindor!"

She didn't miss the look of relief on the Headmaster's face, nor the look of contempt on the dark haired man that set next to Quirrell. His magic felt conflicted, like Quirrell's, but more muted. She rubbed at the scar on her forehead; it had never healed properly, but it had never quite hurt like this. The pain was gone before it had hardly begun, but the dark haired man's contemptuous glare lingered still. Hera is not one to ask questions, 'Don't ask questions!' is ever prevalent in her mind, and so she doesn't; but still…as she tentatively picks at the food they just let her have…she wonders.

Snape doesn't know how to feel about Potter's female counterpart referring to him and his magic. He didn't want Potter to find out about the vow he had taken to protect the boy. If Harry had found out, well, Severus didn't know what he would do if that happened.

Harry thinks back to his first sighting of the stern professor and realizes that he had not thought anything of it after his scar began to hurt. True, it had been Quirrell and Voldemort's doing, but that moment had cemented in his mind that he might have another person to watch out for. Even then, he really wanted to like potions and was disappointed to find out that it would end up being his worst and least favourite subject.

—

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see her face?"

"Did you see her scar?"

Harry winced. "Yeah, that's the worst…" he whispers for only his two best friends to hear. They look uncomfortable as well, now knowing what it felt like just as much due to being his friends and from the many adventures they had together. At first, they might not have cared so much, but Harry was uncomfortable with it and that made them uncomfortable.

Whispers followed her in a way they never had before. Tactless, the lot of them, standing outside classrooms, lined up, or doubling back, just to stare at her. Did they not realize how uncomfortable they were making her? Would it have been worse or better in Slytherin? She wished she knew. She'd chosen Gryffindor so she could hide, but this felt far too exposed for her liking.

Ron has to think through that. He knows where Hera is coming from, but if he was being truthful, he would have hated being alone in Gryffindor without his friend. Sure, he had Hermione but the only reason the two of them became friends was Harry. So, yes, Ron believes that he would have been alone had Harry gone to Slytherin.

Barring that, she loved the study of magic. They had to study the night sky on Wednesday at midnight, learn the name of different stars and planets. Three times a week, there was Herbology with Professor Sprout. Hera decided she quite liked herbology, as it felt a little like growing ones food before they made anything with it, much more enjoyable than working in Aunt Petunian's garden. History of Magic was easily the most boring class, and taught by Professor Binns, a ghost that droned on with all the enthusiasm of an eyesore.

Harry had to agree with her, Herbology was an interesting subject, but he thinks it was because the plants were magical and therefore different from the usual gardening he was forced to do for his aunt. Though, no one was about to disagree with Hera on her assessment of Professor Binns.

Professor Flitwick was teaching Charms, which she rather liked, but she didn't understand why he was standing on unsteady book piles if he had magic. Professor McGonagall was strict and clever, teaching Transfiguration, giving them a stern talking to when class started. Transfiguration was another one of those classes that she rather liked a lot, and for some odd reason it came easily to her. Hermione Granger was the only other student in the room to make any progress, but she didn't reach near the level Hera had. Thankfully, Hermione didn't glower at her for it, but she did look put out for a bit.

Harry groaned remembering how his first class with Professor Flitwick. He wished that it hadn't drawn so much attention to him. He would argue that Snape's class drew more attention to him.

Hermione had sunk into her seat hearing the description of herself from Hera's point of view. It was embarrassing to realize that her personality at that time was distasteful.

The description of Professor McGonagall's class was accurate and allowed some laughter to be brought to the room. They hoped things would stay like that, but they also knew that if this universe was anything like theirs then nothing would change the fact that it would start going downhill sooner or later.

Defence against the Dark Arts was an outright joke. Professor Quirrell stuttered so much that whatever wisdom he imparted couldn't be understood. The room smelt of garlic, and the turban did as well. It gave Hera the worst headache every time she was in that classroom. The one class she was really looking forward to was Potions, even if it was taught by that man that had stared at her in anger, who she learned was Professor Snape; surely he wouldn't let that affect his job.

Even Draco could admit that their first Potions class wasn't exactly needed, he wouldn't admit it out loud, though. No one wants to speak at this moment, especially not Snape. If he spoke, it would draw more attention to himself than the universe they are watching does.

"Ah, yes." the professor said softly. "Hera Potter. Our new…celebrity.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." He began. Like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort' from the way he stood, to the way he moved, even how his robes billowed as he'd entered the room. Git or not, the man had a presence. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

She was wrong. Potions had been awful. She would still try to learn, but that man hated her! Why though? She hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't been there long enough to even attempt anything. Everyone kept telling her how much like her father she looked, but with her mother's eyes. Could that somehow be it? Hera just didn't know. His contempt of her made all the more real by how he'd berated her in that first class, but oh how she hated that she was going to have to pretend to hate him. That speech had her hooked and even if she could never show him that she was listening, she would learn what she could from him.

Snape didn't want to acknowledge that he got furious at Harry for taking notes. Doing so would mean admitting to all of the horrid things he had done over the years, and that was not something he was ready to admit. Maybe not ever.

Dumbledore frowns, knowing that he had never explicitly told Severus not to treat the boy cruelly but he also hadn't told him to be nice. It felt as if this was somehow his fault for his inaction. Then again, he now believes a decent amount of situations could have been solved without getting his students injured.

…

Severus Snape did not expect anyone to stay after class, especially not Potter.

"I'm going to tell you a secret, Professor." Potter stated, before leveling him with eyes that hurt to look into. "I've not known her for very long, but I hate the Girl-Who-Lived, and I would really appreciate it if everyone would stop rubbing it in my face that my parents are dead because of me. I hardly find it something to celebrate."

Snape froze at that statement. If that was the same thought process of the Potter brat in the room with him, then why was he always causing and getting into trouble? He mentally shakes his head, refusing to continue that line of thinking. Severus Snape will not face his behaviour at this point in time.

Harry looks down at the mention of his family, not wanting to think about the life he could never have. Being comforted by his friends was enough to bring a small smile to his face.

She did not stay any longer, gone before he could muster up any anger at her calling him out for his behaviour; for surely that's what she'd done. What had she meant by hating the Girl-Who-Lived? That thought about took all the air right out of him. The title told her all she felt she needed to know, that she had survived something her parents had not. Did she hate herself for that? He would not think on this again for years to come, but he'd seen in her eyes far too much of himself at that age; a thought he promptly locked away.

—

She'd taken Ron with her to meet with Hagrid. As oblivious as the man was, and he had to be half giant or something, he meant well. The groundskeeper was probably the first adult to really ask after her well being, and she enjoyed telling him about her classes. Ron told him how Snape had reacted to her, and she could see how Hagrid wouldn't look her in the eyes after that. Don't ask questions, she reminded herself, so instead she turned the conversation to the…rock cakes. Strange that she had no problem eating them, but Ron had to soak his for several minutes, time he used to update Hagrid on how the rest of the Weasley brood was doing. She would tell Ron later about the vault Hagrid had emptied before Gringotts had had the robbery attempt she'd seen in the paper Hagrid had been reading before.

"How?" That was spoken by everyone. How could she eat Hagrid's rock cakes? They were named rock cakes for a reason!

—

Hermione was not having the best of luck at the moment. No one would be friends with her, despite the sort of camaraderie she had with Neville, and the shy acceptance of Hera. It was strange to her how Hera would shift from shy and withdrawn to confident and enthusiastic, depending on the subject matter. The girl had easily gotten her broom to leap up to her, as if she had a force of will all her own, but Hermione's broom just rolled over. Neville wasn't doing much better, and she feared their nerves were making this worse.

"I remember that," Ron exclaimed. "It seems that Hera has the same talent with a broom as you do, mate!"

Harry blushed in embarrassment. He hadn't wanted to think about his first Flying lesson.

"Think of it like a horse, or a dog." Hera whispered to her, surprising her out of her thoughts. "I can feel a kind of sentience in the wood itself. It will respond to your confidence. You have to believe you can, and then will it into being."

"Oh, that makes sense, actually," Hermione muttered. "I'm still not getting on one of those blasted things." She glares at Ron who had glanced at her, ready to ask a question, most likely about her trying to play a game of Quidditch with his family.

Harry snickers at his friend, patting him on the back when he begins to pout.

After that it was easy to call the broom up, for Neville as well. She managed to hover as well with the rest of them, but she didn't have the confidence that Hera or Malfoy seemed to possess. She's not even sure why Hera has the confidence she does in this, as she was muggle raised too. Was this a case of fake it till you make it, or trusting ones instincts? In that case, Hermione was definitely a feet on the ground person.

Hermione groaned at herself. Why was she getting so upset about not being the best in the class? Sure, she could understand to an extent, but to believe that she should be at the top? It hurt to know that was how some people saw her. However, if she was so bad during their first year, then why was she friends with Harry and Ron? Especially Ron! He had not held back his frustration with her before Halloween.

But then Neville kicked off, and he kept flying up and up. Madam Hooch tried to calm the boy down, but it was clear that only made Neville panic more, which inadvertently pushed his broom to new heights. The more he panicked, the more his broom rose, the more Hermione was certain both of her feet belonged on the ground; thank you very much. Feeding on his panic, his broom shot towards their flying instructor, causing both to fall. Hera didn't hesitate, rising like a shot and then a sharp dive, nimbly catching both Madam Hooch and Neville by their wrists as she herself lay along the length of the broom.

When Neville rose off the ground everyone was already anticipating it, so weren't surprised. Knowing now that the boy panicking was the reason for him continuing to rise higher and higher in the air did nothing to calm down the racing hearts of some who had not been there.

Watching Hera fly up and grab both Neville and Madam Hooch's wrists was not what anyone had expected, not even Harry by the look on his face. He wants to cover his eyes, knowing that the strength he held in his arms in his first year was basically nothing, but what would it be like for Hera?

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

"Yes, because that is going to help," Harry groaned, giving in to his urge to place his head in his hands. No one questions him for that, figuring they would be told soon.

"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.

"Oh," was stated by many. That was all anyone could say. After all, that perfectly encompassed the situation and the results that could happen.

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.

"The broken wrist is the only thing about the Flying lesson that stayed the same," Ron noted, wondering if things would continue to change in small ways going forward. Would it take longer for him and Hermione to become friends in that universe? Merlin, he hoped not! While they might still argue he couldn't possibly have his friend group separated. It hurt just imagining such a possibility.

"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?"

Harry laughs, shaking his head. "So, she still wants me on the Quidditch team in that universe, even after all of this." Though he had to admit, Hera still being on the ground was worrying.

"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."

Dumbledore smiles serenely. The girl hadn't been lying, it was an excellent day out and deserved to be appreciated. The slight sneer on Snape's face didn't hide the look in his eyes, showing that he didn't actively despise that comment. It might have been for the same reason as Albus thought, but he had no real way of knowing such a thing.

"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."

"She can't get up, can she?" Harry sighed, knowing this to be the case due to her still not rising from the ground. Hermione looked from Harry to the screen and put her head in her hand, shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation. In comparison to how their Flying lesson ended, this was worse.

"Oh?"

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

"Called it…" Harry groaned, sinking back into his chair and refusing to face anyone. Ron chuckles, knowing that his friend is alright and that Hera would be as well. While Hermione was rubbing Harry's back in sympathy.

Ginny wanted to go over and sit with them but didn't think she could. Not after what happened in her first year. Not after she was stupid enough to write in a journal that responded. As a pureblood, she was taught not to do that type of thing, and yet she ignored those instincts. The only thing she hopes is that it won't happen in this other universe, or at least won't be shown.