Avenging Fire

“What kind of sleeping potion was that?”


“The Draught of Living Death? It’s a just sleeping draught, but a strong one. You were so anxious last night I figured you needed something stronger than a usual sleeping potion.”


“I feel as though no time has passed. Literally the last thing I remember was swallowing it, and then one second later, I’m talking to you now.”


“Yes well, it isn’t a potion one should take regularly by any means. It’s too easy to become dependent on it. It isn’t a narcotic, but after a while a person won’t fall asleep easily without it. I’m sure there are several Muggle equivalents. I’d quite like to get my hands on some of them! It’s a hobby of mine, comparing wizarding potions to Muggle pharmaceuticals.”


“Our Anesthetics will do that but with sleep aides and sedatives you are still aware of the passing of time.”


“Best get ready for the day, dear. The Headmaster wants to speak to you today. I’ve told him that I’m about ready to release you and he’ll want to discuss your new…living arrangements.” Pomfrey delicately said, knowing how Helena felt about being forced to stay at Hogwarts.


As she stood in the seldom used bathroom around the corner from the infirmary, she looked at her nearly completely healed face. Her eye sockets were still bruised but by now the discoloration had lightened and the bruises were at the jaundice-yellow final stage of healing. Her lips still bore a vertical crack where they had been split, but at least now the swelling had gone away.


She frowned as she brushed out her hair and pulled it up with the scrunchie she found yesterday. ‘New living arrangements’ indeed! It wasn’t like she had been given much of a choice. Dumbledore essentially told her that she could stay here voluntarily or he would ‘force the issue’ which she took as involuntary commitment.


Why should he care anyway? He obviously hadn’t cared enough to inform her that a band of rabid sociopaths wanted her and her niece and nephew dead. Her frown deepened to a scowl. How long exactly did he expect her to stay? Short of Voldemort turning himself over with a jolly ‘Hello, lads! Size 8 manacles I think.’ she didn’t see her situation being resolved anytime soon.


As she brushed her teeth, she pushed her bitter musings to the back of her mind. Today was the day when she would summon up the fire that now lives within.


And that’s what had her worried.


The night in Dumbledore’s office when her pyro and psychokinetic abilities switched on had been violent to say the least. She had completely engulfed herself in flame and flung tables and chairs around like they were toys. She thought back to that night and replayed it in her mind. She had already been in a heightened emotional state from the attack and then upon learning of the Death Eater threat against her and the twins, and Dumbledore’s apparent subterfuge, she was pushed over the edge into blinding, incoherent rage.


Helena above most others knew the destructive power of uncontrolled rage. It caused murders, abuse, and in some cases where it was directed against the person themselves, self destruction. After her residency years, she began performing court ordered psychological evaluations while she was building her practice. She remembered one particular case where a man had flown into such a state of rage that he brutally murdered his wife.


He had beaten her to the point of death and then stabbed her repeatedly. His wife had 32 stab wounds and still that wasn’t enough. He sliced her throat to the point where it was nearly severed from her body and then he gouged out her eyes. She was probably dead after the first initial stabs, but he continued his attack, incoherent in his rage. Helena had viewed the police photos before she went to interview the man. Clinical detachment aside, she could not help but be affected by the brutality captured in the photos. What was even more shocking, was that when she entered the room, the man restrained by chains in a chair was very mild mannered. He was very well spoken too and up to that point, the man had never even received so much as a traffic ticket in his entire life.


One instant. One instant of searing, blinding hot rage was all it took to transform the man into a savage murderer.


Helena knew that with training and practice on her part, she could control her abilities, but could she always control her rage? She was not an angry or violent person, but she was human. Everyone, at some point, will face situations where control of their emotions becomes an almost superhuman feat. Parents who face the drunk driver that killed their child in court could tear that person to pieces with their very hands if the boundaries prohibiting that were removed. What would happen if she were pushed to that point?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gavin Smythe had cleared the area directly in front of classroom’s fireplace and was currently arranging a chair a few feet in front of it. For an instant, Helena had a mind to flee and not stop running until she was on the other side of the world. Almost as if sensing her thoughts, Smythe turned around and offered a gentle, understanding smile.


“Come and have a seat, Helena.”


She settled into the chair and looked into the cold, unlit fireplace and shivered. Whether it was from the chill in the air or from trepidation, she wasn’t sure.


“First thing, you must overcome your fear of your pyrokinesis. I know the first manifestation is always traumatic, but understand you will never be hurt by your own manifested fire. No part of you will burn and any heat you feel, will feel at most like a warm summer breeze. A pyrokinetic can quite literally set his or herself on fire and never feel a thing. What causes a pyrokinetic to be dangerous is their own innate fear of fire’s destructive force and self preservation. It’s instinctual. Unless that fear is conquered, a pyrokinetic may panic. If that happens, the fire they manifest may blaze out of control and destroy everyone and everything around them.”


“It isn’t me I’m worried about, Gavin.”


“Please don’t be unduly concerned. Pyrokinesis can be controlled and directed with practice. Like psychokinesis, pyrokinesis responds to the will of the Paranormal. You may turn a person to ash or merely tickle them. The fire comes from you, so therefore it will respond as you will it. For example, you may take your hand and strike someone to cause injury, or, you may reach out and gently pluck an eyelash off their cheek. It’s the same principal. Now, do you remember the sensation in your mind right before you manifested?”


“Yes. I was very angry. I had just found out that…” Helena caught herself and stopped. “I had found out some very distressing news. I was enraged. As I stood there and seethed, I felt…I don’t know…energy…flood my brain. It was like every single synapse in my brain was rapidly firing. I felt as though there was something pushing inside my head, trying to get out. The next thing I know, I’m engulfed in flames and completely blind from panic. When I awoke after being unconscious, I again became angry and felt the same sensations. I was able to stop it by breathing deeply, but it frightened me because of the ease in which the sensations returned. How am I going to be able to control this? I’m human and humans get angry. It’s unrealistic to expect me not to on occasion.”


“Anger and rage has nothing to do with it now. Yes, it was those emotions that caused your first manifestations, but now that they’re here, they can be summoned at will. Why, you can be laughing and will a manifestation! When you became angry the second time and felt you were in danger of manifesting, you were unskilled and unpracticed. Your pyrokinesis simply responded as it had done the first time. It’s like breathing. When you’re upset, you can slow your breathing down to not hyperventilate. Or, if you simply allow yourself to continue to hyperventilate, you’ll faint. It’s the same thing here. Just because you experience strong emotions, does not mean you’ll be setting fires right and left.”


Helena relaxed a little but with some reservations.


“Let’s begin.”


Smythe had her close her eyes and moved several feet to the side. He had her remember just the sensation of the few seconds before she had ignited herself. He had her focus on how the sensation felt inside her head, the frenetic energy, the pushing sensation.

“Do you remember it?”


Helena nodded, eyes still closed.


“Now, will it back.”


Helena concentrated hard. She felt the energy begin to course through her brain as she used the memory of Dumbledore informing her after who knows how long that she was a hunted woman and the rage she felt upon hearing it. Her synapses felt like they were jumping. Then the pushing sensation began. She began to breathe rapidly and squinted her eyes shut tighter.


“Don’t panic. Remain in control. Breathe deep.” Smythe said in a soothing voice.


Helena slowed her breathing down but the pushing, jumping sensations were still present. She was focusing on keeping them active.


“Now, imagine a fire in the fireplace. See it?”


Helena nodded again.


“Will it to be.”


Helena exhaled suddenly as she let the pushing break free from her mind. She felt a strong whoosh in front of her and then it blew back, rustling her hair like from a robust breeze. Her eyes snapped open and she reflexively jumped to her feet to escape being caught on fire. A normal looking fire was blazing in the fireplace. It had spiked though when she startled and jumped back.


“It’s ok, you’re ok!” Smythe reassured her. “Excellent! Look at that, will you? A fine fire! Now, place your hand in the flames.”


Helena balked.


“Remember, you won’t be burned. Try.”


Helena crouched down in front of the fireplace and steeled her courage. Wincing, she placed a hand in the flames. She felt some ambient heat but the main sensation was a light touching, like someone was blowing on her skin. She withdrew her hand. It wasn’t burned or even reddened. She thrust both hands in.


Amazing, she thought.


“Now, watch this.” Smythe tore sheet off of one of his pads of paper and put a corner in the flames. The paper caught fire and Smythe tossed it into the flames.


“As you can see, it’s real fire. It can burn. Anything other than you, of course. Now, if you please, extinguish it. Just as you ignited it, will it away.”


Helena crouched in front of the flames and looked at the fire. She took a moment to get the pre-manifestation sensations back, then she visualized the fire disappearing. Nothing happened. She concentrated again, visualizing the fire away as a gas flame on a stove being shut off. The flames extinguished and the remains of whatever had been in the fireplace crackled in the aftermath.


They took a quick break and Smythe asked if she had a headache yet. He warned her that she might get one being new to working with her pyrokinesis and to let him know so they could stop for another break.

For the rest of the day, they focused on quickly willing up the pre-manifestation stage. Smythe said it should be instantaneous, like a thought. It took some practice but they got to the point where Smythe would say, “On” and “Off” and Helena would summon up the pre-manifestation sensations.

For the final exercise of the day, they stood in front of the fireplace. Smythe told her to ignite and extinguish on his command.

“On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.”

Helena dutifully ignited then extinguished fires. She was exhausted and the headache Smythe had warned about made its appearance with a vengeance. She was also very hungry again, as usual.

“Wonderful!” Dumbledore’s voice sounded behind them. He had slipped in during the on/off exercise and was now clapping.

He shook Smythe’s hand and asked for a report. Smythe said that Helena was coming along nicely. After the week’s training was over, and a few hours of practice a day for month or so, he felt for sure Helena would master her paranormal abilities to the point of second nature.


“Is she able to control her pyrokinesis adequately now? She isn’t likely to start a fire accidently, would you say?”


Smythe said he thought she could control it to that point.


“Good, good! Helena, how would you like to be able to make a brief visit to your home to collect a few things? You’ve been here for five days now and are about to move into your quarters and I’d imagine you want to retrieve some items to make your stay more comfortable. Mr. Smythe, would you be so good as to allow her to skip tomorrow? It means that you would have to come here an extra day.”


“That shouldn’t be a problem, Mr. Dumbledore. Helena, enjoy your day off. I wonder if I might have a moment of your time, Headmaster?”


“Of course. Come to my office, Mr. Smythe. Will you be at breakfast in the morning my dear?”


Helena suppressed her frown. “Yes.”


“I shall see you then.” Dumbledore beamed.


Easy for you to smile, she thought.


After the two men left together, Helena wearily made her way to the infirmary. Filch had decided after the first day, she could make her own way back. She asked Pomfrey for something for a headache and stretched out on the bed for a few minutes before dinner. It soon became clear that she wasn’t going to feel like pulling herself together to make an appearance in the Great Hall.


“If you don’t feel like dining in the Great Hall, you can summon a House Elf to bring you a selection.” Pomfrey advised.


After she spoke the words ‘House Elf,’ a diminutive creature winked in to the infirmary and bowed. Madam Pomfrey motioned to where Helena sat on her cot and the elf bowed, this time at her.


“How may KiKi serves the new lady?” the female elf squeaked.


She eyed the little creature. She knew they existed in the magical world but she never actually seen one. None of the magicals in her family had House Elves and furthermore, they refused the idea of ever owning one of the creatures.


“The wizarding world is full of rot and laziness! Reliance on House Elves is partly to blame. I have no respect for any witch or wizard who cannot manage without one.” her paternal wizard uncle Albert groused once over a dinner spent at his brother Ian’s, Helena and Steffen’s father, house.


Sorry Uncle Albert, she thought as she prepared to issue a request from the diminutive elf in front of her.


“KiKi is it? KiKi, would you please bring a tray from the kitchen? It doesn’t matter what. Whatever is being served is fine.”


“Yes, new lady! KiKi will brings it!”


The elf then winked back out. After a few minutes, KiKi reappeared with a platter of food and waited to be dismissed.


“Thank you, Kiki. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”


“New lady does not bother KiKi. New lady is nice to KiKi. New lady can calls KiKi anytime she wants!”


The elf winked out again smiling from large ear to large ear over being treated so politely by the strange new lady.


I probably won’t. Just too strange, Helena thought.

The food helped the empty, pulling sensation in Helena’s body. It was obvious that pyrokinesis was more taxing on her than psychokinesis. Oddly enough, she hadn’t had as much difficulty working with her pyrokinesis as she did her psychokinesis. Maybe she was just getting better. Or maybe the firestarting ability was simply stronger in her. She glanced at the book on her bedside table. She hadn’t yet managed to read of word of Mr. Smythe’s book. Exhaustion and satiation from dinner discouraged her from picking it up.


I’ll read it soon, she told herself.


Settling down into bed, she refused another sleeping draught from Poppy Pomfrey. The sleep that the Draught of Living Death induced wasn’t exactly restful and had an unsettling name. True it had allowed her to sleep but she had spent the entire day feeling out of sorts. It wasn’t a complete sleep; it felt like something was missing. She was tired enough that she didn’t think she would have much problem drifting off at any rate.


Sleep soon washed over her as she rolled over onto her side, turning her back to Pomfrey who was taking inventory of her potion stores and quietly humming another tune.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I see.” Dumbledore said after Smythe finished speaking.


Smythe had just asked Dumbledore to endorse his lobby. Gavin Smythe had for sometime now been lobbying the Ministry of Magic to grant citizenship status to Paranormals if a Paranormal should wish to apply. The Ministry of Magic was reluctant and did not see a need to grant his request. After all, Paranormals weren’t witches or wizards, and there weren’t that many of them to begin with.

Smythe had urged them to reconsider, saying that some Paranormals, much like some magical people, don’t fare well in the non-magical world. Paranormals, like in the cases of Pre and Postcognants, are met with incredulousness and sometimes are declared mentally unsound and locked away in mental institutions. Pyrokinetics are sometimes prosecuted for vandalism and arson if an average Muggle spots them around the area where a fire suddenly blazes forth.

“Yes yes, Mr. Smythe. We’re sure some tragic incidences have occurred. But the fact remains, Paranormals are just a small group. Hardly worth the effort to amend the laws and charters. There isn’t much support for this, we’re afraid.” the Ministry of Magic council had declared.


“But, you require us to register with the Ministry of Magic when we first manifest! Why must we do that but are then denied the option of citizenship status?” Smythe had protested.


If Helena hadn’t already been in the magical world when she manifested, an owl would have delivered instructions on how to register by now. Quite a while ago, once the link between Magicals and Paranormals was established, the Ministry of Magic kept track Paranormals much like they did Magicals; when they were born, when they manifested, and when they ventured into the wizarding world. Smythe had also tried for years to get hold of that list, but the Ministry brushed him off, declaring the information was classified.


Smythe told his wife that the MoM rivaled, even surpassed, any and all non-magical governmental bureaucracies.


“Mr. Smythe, some Paranormals have the potential to be dangerous. We are simply protecting our citizenship by keeping a registry of each Paranormal and their abilities. For instance, if someone in the wizarding world is discovered burned to a crisp, the initial suspects will also include registered Pyrokinetics.”


Gavin Smythe was dismissed.


Smythe at that point went on a campaign to drum up support by asking influential witches and wizards to endorse his lobby. Some readily signed on while others waved him off. When Dumbledore first owled him concerning Helena, Smythe planned to lobby Dumbledore for his support. He had planned to seek the Headmaster for some time previous, but the old wizard was rather hard to get to.

“It would really help the cause if you would endorse this lobby. It isn’t as if we have nothing to contribute to the wizarding world. Our abilities can be used in beneficial ways. Most Paranormals have careers in the Muggle world and are perfectly content to stay there. I simply want Paranormals to have the option of citizenship in the wizarding world if they so chose. May I have your support?” Smythe asked.


Dumbledore considered Smythe’s request, stroking his long white beard. A sociopathic Paranormal could cause a lot of damage, but the wizarding world itself has plenty of sociopathic witches and wizards. It seemed unlikely that the incidence rate of mental disturbances were higher in this subgroup than in any other population. And Paranormals are a small group at any rate, which would make anonymity rather difficult. If a Paranormal killed someone, the list would be small, making it easier to identify or exonerate them. Naturally, the same laws that apply to magical activity could also be applied to them. Surely with some planning and understanding, Paranormals could be easily incorporated into wizarding society if they so choose.


“Of course, Mr. Smythe. You have my full support. I will write a letter immediately and give you a copy.”

Gavin Smythe left Hogwarts that evening with renewed vigor. He had Dumbledore’s support!


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A/N: Mucho gracias to Tambrathegreat and all others who have taken the time to reveiw this.

As I've said, this is my first HP fanfition. Mostly I try to make people laugh (humorous commentary) or disturb them (horror). Sometimes both at the same time.


I must admit though, I kind of blew this chappie off. It all will go somewhere, I promise. Just bear with me. All this may be important later on. wink-wink.


Eventually there will be lemon tarts for ye.


*Tip of the nib to Paul McCartney and Wings for 'Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey.' I named Helena's paternal wizard uncle Albert after the song.


We're so sorry, Uncle Albert,
We're so sorry if we caused you any pain.
We're so sorry, Uncle Albert,
But there's no one left at home
And I believe I'm going away.

We're so sorry but we haven't heard a thing all day,
We're so sorry, Uncle Albert,
But if anything should happen
We'll be sure to give a ring.

We're so sorry, Uncle Albert,
But we haven't done a bloody thing all day.
We're so sorry, Uncle Albert,
But the kettle's on the boil
And we're so eas'ly called away.

Hands across the water. Heads across the sky.


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*Extra trivia point* Helena's father, 'Ian,' is named after Ian Anderson from Jethro Tull.