Harry Potter and the Unlikely Gryffindor

Hera woke Monday morning to the face of Ginny Weasley grinning at her through a curtain of fire red hair. “Aren't you supposed to say 'Cock-a-doodle-doo', or something?” Hera asked, getting up as she pushed the thick covers off of her body. Looking outside, the sun was just peeking over horizon. 'Lovely', she thought, grabbing a brush and pulling the tangles out of her hair.

“Silly...breakfast is being served down in the hall before class.” Ginny said before skipping out of the first-year dorms and down to the common room. Hera waited until she was gone before she blew a loud raspberry in Ginny's direction. She sighed, pulling her trunk out from under her bed and started getting dressed for the day. She took out a small, pewter pentagram with white, yellow, red, blue and green gems at each of the points, the white stone pointing up and strung it around her neck before tucking it into her uniform front.


Ten minutes later, Hera walked into the Great Hall, plopping down at the Gryffindor table. She stifled a yawn as she reached over and poured herself a mug of coffee. 'What I wouldn't give for a Dr. Pepper.' She thought to herself as she speared about three pancakes with her fork, slathered them with butter and syrup before devouring them at the same speed as everyone else at the table. She sighed as she put the first bite in her mouth, snagging a couple of sausages off of a platter that had nearly been cleaned off by the other Gryffindor girls. Being introduced to a new world she had only thought of as fantasy gave her an apatite.

Hermione chewed on a piece of bacon as she observed Hera nearly downing the entire pot of coffee. Apparently she was not a morning person. “What exactly did you do before you got the letter?” She had been curious ever since Mrs. Weasley had gotten the letter from Headmistress McGonagall, but had considered it rude asking her about it when she was still assimilating such a different way of life at such an advanced age. Their head of house, Hagrid started walking up and down the isle between Gryffindor table and Hufflepuff, knocking several students on both sides face first into their breakfast. He was handing out the schedules to all the Gryffindor students. The table was filled with rustling parchment as everyone took a look. Apparently the Gryffindors were still being paired with the Hufflepuffs in Herbology. She looked at the time on the schedule, and then at her watch. She had just about ten minutes left to answer Hermione's question.

Hera smirked, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb before licking the syrup off and stuffing the schedule into her robes. "Well, I graduated from high school, er, Muggle school. The last you go to before going to college." She explained, watching as those who had never studied Muggle society closely nodded their heads in understanding. "Well, I graduated with honors, though my grades not quite high enough to be in the top fifteen percent of the class," she shrugged. It was a new concept to have her everyday activities on display as though they were extraordinary events.

"I didn't do anything amazing in school, so I was bored to death. So when I got all my graduation gifts, which is where I got my motorcycle, I used the money to get tickets to London, and I used the directions on the back of the letter to get to the Weasley's house. Then I found out my parents were loaded. Oh! Ron, you should have something coming in from your parents today. I left them a little something as a thank you gift and asked them to get you a little something, too." She said grinning as she stuffed the last piece of sausage into her mouth with a very unlady like snort.

"What kind of thank you?" Ron asked, as he finished his juice, trying to gulp down as much as he could before he went to his first class, which happened to be a Transfiguration double.

"Ohhh...a little something along the lines of a few thousand Galleons." Ron spit out his juice, coughing as Seamus whacked him on the back a couple of times.

"How much?" Ron squeaked when he could talk, shooing Seamus away when he whacked his back one last time for good measure.

"Enough..." Hera said as she ran off toward her first class, her books in tow. She trotted outside to the gardens where the Hufflepuff first years were already waiting in Greenhouse Three. The lesson plan seemed to have changed little from when Harry was in 2nd year, which was funny since it seemed the curriculum had been bumped up a year with all the new changes. Now that she observed her closer, Professor Sprout's robes were covered in dirt and grime and the tip of her nose had a dark spot on it. Her fingernails were caked with mud and she seemed to be having a hard time with a rather fresh Venomous Tentacula that seemed to want to wrap its spindly red tentacles around her waist. On the long trough, were several pairs of earmuffs. Hera didn't need to be told twice to know what those were for. She quickly snagged a pair of blood red ones and kept them close to her as Sprout finely freed herself from the vine and came over to her class.

“Yes...First years, this is Herbology. Here you will learn how to plant, grow and care for magical plants. Most of what you see in this greenhouse is used in several of your first year potions, so I would listen carefully if I were you.” Sprout had a small pot in front of her with tall, green, fleshy leaves sticking out of the soil. “As your first lesson today, you will be handling Mandrake. Can anyone tell me its properties?”

The students all seemed to look at one another wondering who hand the answer. Finely a little Hufflepuff with blond hair that Hera recognized as the first one sorted raised her hand. Sprout nodded over to her. “It's a restorative,” Kimberly started in a small voice. “used to change those who were transfigured back to normal.”

“Right, Miss Adams!” Sprout seemed to beam at Kimberly, proud that the answer had come from her own house. “Ten points to Hufflepuff.” She nearly knocked her hat off of her head as she did a little hop. “The Mandrake is essential to most antidotes, but it is also dangerous. Who can tell me why?” Kimberly didn't raise her hand this time as she just stood there.

“Because it's cry is deadly,” answered Hera, amazed with herself for remembering it from Hermione's lecture.

Sprout seemed less jubilant, but she did smile brightly. “Right! And ten points to Gryffindor for that one.” Hera sighed, thankful that she had not lost Gryffindor points on her first day. “Though the Mandrakes we have here are still quite young, so their cries will only knock you out for a few hours. Still, I will deduct points for anyone who feints!” Now Hera really held on tight to her earmuffs. “Now everyone put a pair of earmuffs on, and make sure it coveres your ears completely.” The students did as Sprout told them to, clapping the muffs over their ears. Hera slid hers on, blocking out any sound. She watched as Professor Sprout took the fleshy leaves by the base and gave a good, hard yank. What came up looked less like a plant and more like an ugly, lumpy baby. Poor little Kimberly lasted only a few seconds before feinting dead away at the sight.

Sprout shook her head as she stuffed the baby Mandrake into a larger pot, and shoveled soil onto it until all that was visible were its fleshy leaves. She gave the thumbs up, signaling for everyone to take their earmuffs off. “Now, everyone group into fours around a smaller pot. Remember to cover your Mandrake completely before you take them off.” And with that, the class was left on its own. Hera had been paired with a fellow Gryffindor boy and two Hufflepuffs. None of them seemed brave enough to touch the plant, so Hera grasped it by the leaves, made sure her earmuffs were on, and yanked hard. Hera was never good with babies of the human variety, and this baby made her just as uncomfortable. While the two Hufflepuffs were scooping in soil, Hera shoved the Mandrake into the pot. She had to keep the thing from throwing itself out as it thrashed and kicked soil in every direction.

Hera took the soil and just dumped it on top of the Mandrake, patting the soil down as though to keep the thing from jumping out of the pot. By the time her team had finished, most of the other students were taking off their gloves and earmuffs, their Mandrakes well planted. As the class finished, they set the pots on the far side of the greenhouse and labeled them with their names. Apparently they were supposed to keep the things alive and would be graded on how well the plant survived. Hera would have bet money that theirs would die the first week.

They barley had enough time to wash up before their next class, which was Transfiguration. Apparently McGonagall taught this since they had not yet found a suitable replacement. McGonagall stalked up and down the isles between the desks, lecturing about the uses of Transfiguration. “Transfiguration is the art of changing one thing, into another.” She demonstrated by setting her hat on the desk, and changing it into a rat, then back again. The rest of the students were impressed. Hera, however had a look in her eyes that said she could find a few uses for a trick like that. “It will be a long time before you doing anything on that level. We will start out small. In front of you all are Sugar Ants.” Indeed the ants on their desks resembled jelly beans in both size and shape. “Your first assignment will be to turn the Sugar Ant into a billiard ball.” And with that, the class was left to its assignment.

Hera had to grab her ant as it tried to scurry off her desk or up her robe sleeve. She was trying hard to peg it with her wand, saying the words and keeping the ant on her desk at the same time. She was having a time of it. One of the Hufflepuffs next to her got hers half way into a billiard ball before the thing rolled off of her desk and splatted into a gooey heap on the ground. “One point from Hufflepuff...” McGonagall quipped, startling Hera as she tried to pronounce the correct word. She ended up “eeping' at the end, and sent the billiard ball flying around the room, bouncing off of the walls before embedding itself in McGonagall's desk inches away from her hand.

Hera just put her wand down, muttering an apology. “On the contrary.” She heard McGonagall say as she wrenched the ball from her desk. “Perfectly formed, round, and not soft at all. Five points to Gryffindor for actually getting it right the first time. Hera blushed pink, laying her head on her desk to cool her head against the wood and happened to land on one of the thorns of her wand.

Hera sighed as she read the next class off of the schedule. Charms, with Slytherins. Hera rolled her eyes and trotted down the hall and behind a faded tapestry to come out at the intersection next to the Charms classroom. The class was built like a little stadium, with long tables and benches set up the sides. In the middle sat Professor Flitwick's desk, the little wizard standing on top of a stack of books. As was done in the other classes, he called the roll, and started right away. Their first lesson was wand movements. “Swish and flick. Remember to move your wrist when you do this, no one ever cast anything effective with a stiff wrist.” The little professor kept repeating those words over and over again as they followed his movements.

“Now, Charms are very useful, very useful indeed. Charms are used to make things change colors, hover, bring objects to or away from you or even to hide something so completely that no one besides those who know where it is will be able to find it.” Hera listened, wondering where this was when she was trying to hide her diary from her older brothers. “Some of you may think that Charms are useless unless for parlor tricks. But a well placed charm can counter even the most powerful curse or hex. Not that I would recommend you students get into duels.” Flitwick quickly detracted.

“We will start with a simple color changing charm. Ready your wands, and repeat after me: Abeo Croceus.” The entire class repeated, making sure to get the words right. “Remember the hand movements you have been practicing. Now have at it!” Hera noticed that these professors seemed to have a lot of faith in their students that they wouldn't do anything like blow themselves up. But no sooner had she thought that, than one of her fellow first year Gryffindors blew her feather up into yellow smoke. “Well, at least you got the color right,” chuckled Flitwick, though this did not stop a few of the Slytherins from sniggering from across the room.

Hera kept trying to change her feather, but nothing would happen. “Oh come on you long-waste-of-wood!” She said this last part very fast while waving her wand as though it were a pen with ink stuck inside it. Suddenly the entire class room was filled with high pitched screams as Flitwick went bouncing from ceiling to floor like a little black and white rubber ball.

“STOOOOOOOP!” Hera looked up and put her wand down, the charm wearing off as soon as she let go. She must have looked guilty because Flitwick pointed his wand at her as he climbed from under the enormous pile of books that had fallen on top of him. “SIXTY-FIVE POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!!” Hera went pale. “You could have killed me!” Hera ducked her head amid the laughter from the Slytherins, her cheeks turning bright red. Flitwick huffed and puffed as he tried to get himself under control, noticing the laughter. “And you!” He rounded on the Slytherins this time. “Ten points from Slytherin for thinking this funny!” The laughter stopped as those students stared at Hera as though they wanted to hex her on the spot.

Hera's next class was Potions. It took her nearly five minutes to find her way down to the dungeons, near where the Slytherin dormitories were located. She tried to avoid the entrance hall where the hourglasses that counted the house points were held. She did not want to be there when her fellow Gryffindors found out how many points they had just lost. She just sighed and walked into the classroom, trying to clear her mind. At least Flitwick was all right.

Oddly enough, this classroom reminded her of the raves she used to go to when she was back in high school. One particular one that had stuck with her was one that was held in a reproduction of a medieval castle, complete with a mock torture chamber and blood bar. And as it turned out, she was the first one in the class room, the other students were probably still finishing up breakfast, so Hera sat her books and supplies on a desk near the front, and started looking around. As she looked over the rather interesting selections on the bookcase, she had the vague feeling that she was being watched. But the only thing out of the ordinary in the room was a rather tacky looking red velvet overstuffed armchair that looked like it had been stolen from the Bunny Ranch.

In fact, it looked a little too opulent for a dungeon, which made Hera begin to wonder. "With this here, this place does look like the Blood Bar where I met my boyfriend..." She said, wondering if her comment could only be heard by the stone walls.

"Blood Bar?" Came the question from nowhere, and yet it had a source, obviously.

Hera smiled, looking back at the chair. "So you’re Professor Slughorn? Nice color, by the way."

The armchair seemed to laugh uproariously before shifting into the form of a rather fat man with the same red velvet adorning his massive form. 'He does look like he came from the Bunny Ranch.' Hera thought, trying to hide the smile that would surly turn into laughter if she wasn't careful. Besides the auspicious clothing, there was nothing else out of the ordinary about Slughorn; he was short, wide, had a thinning hair line with an air that said he was confident in his abilities, what ever those may be. He looked competent enough to be messing around with what Hera was sure were volatile chemicals. "You must be Hera!" Came the loud statement of the obvious from his wide smiling face. "Ten points to Gryffindor for showing up early, and for finding me out." Hera bit back the urge to say that it wasn't that hard. In truth it wasn't, the chair was as big as he was. Though; Hera knew for sure that it would have been a major faux pas to sit on him.

Hera nodded as she started setting out her supplies and the text book, 'Magical Drafts and Potions', making sure she had everything ready as the other students started coming in, filling up the tables. As soon as the class was full, Slughorn closed the class door with a flick of his wand, placing his hands behind his back as he teetered back and forth on his little feet.

"Hello young witches and wizards, and welcome to First-Year Potions. I trust you have your supplies? Good, now open your books to page 10. Now, fifteen points to the person who can tell me what the ultimate purpose of Potion making is." Slughorn offered, watching as everyone opened to the assigned page, looking on it as though the answer were printed there.

Apparently no one was offering up the answer, and it didn't help that Slughorn kept looking at Hera as though he expected her to have it. Hera sighed and raised her hand. Being around Hermione had its benefits.

"Ahh, Miss Malfoy." Slughorn acknowledged, stepping in front of her as he awaited her answer.

"To use the base properties of one or more substances, either mundane or magical, to acquire a result that would other wise be impossible, impractical, or unpredictable by any other means."

"Ahh, a most interesting interpretation, and also very true!" Slughorn said, sticking his fat forefinger in the air as he did so. "What we can not do with spells, we do with potions. And many of these ingredients by themselves are poisonous, such as Snake Fangs. But when prepared properly, and mixed with other ingredients, produces a potion to cure boils, which is quite useful in the brewing of potions since one miscalculation can cause great pain or death."

'My, aren't these happy warnings.' Hera thought as she blew a strand of her hair out of her face. Thankfully this class was nothing but a lecture on safety and ethics, which Slughorn emphasized was required to remember when messing around with things so deadly. Just when Hera thought the class would last forever, the chime sounded signaling the end of the class. "Your homework..." Started Slughorn, stopping everyone dead in their tracks. "Is to read the first twenty-five pages, and be ready to brew the Boil Cure Potion Wednesday." The entire class groaned as each gathered up their supplies and left the classroom, hurrying to lunch. During the first few hours of classes, Hera seriously considered leaving the school entirely. This reminded her of how much she hated school, and if she wasn't having to spend money to go to these classes, and if she had not become friends with Ron and Ginny's parents, she would not be concerned about disappointing anyone. As it was, she could not bear to have someone like Molly Weasley being disappointed in her for any reason. Sometimes she hated her conscience.


The entire day consisted of this until Lunch, when the monotony was broken for the mid-day feast. This meal was not like Supper, with its heavy and rich foods. Here, sandwiches and soups were served, though there was no shortage of either. For most of lunch, Hera escaped many of the questions that had continued from supper of the previous day and seemed as time went on to get more and more personal. Not that she was a hermit of any sort, but she was rather economical with her own history since she knew so very little of the important things.

For instance, as Ginny was asking a little first year boy by the name of Peter Rush which of his parents were magical, it occurred to Hera that she knew nothing of the sort for herself. In fact even after she had begun integrating herself into Wizarding society, she had never once found it necessary to ask which of her parents were magical and which were muggle. Nor had she ever felt it important to ask anyone else as Ginny had done, either. It was so foreign to her to be concerned about the 'blood purity' of a person's family. In fact, it felt a little uncomfortable since it reminded her eerily of the Nazi way of classifying people.

"So, Hera, how do you like your first day," asked Harry, stuffing nearly half a sandwich in his mouth. Hera harrumphed, getting a grin from the young man as he shook his head. Now that she was looking at him, she noticed that he had actually combed that monster on his head. And she strongly suspected that it had something to do with a certain red head sitting next to him at the table. "Oh, come on. It can't be that bad."

"You wanna bet?" Hera said, her eyebrows high on her forehead. "I got sixty-five points docked for accidentally levitating Professor Flitwick, and slamming him into the ceiling!" Hera said, exasperated. "Honestly, how the heck was I supposed to know my wand had a wide arch?"

Harry and the others couldn't hold themselves together after that as they all broke out into laughter, imagining the little teacher flying about the classroom smashing into inanimate objects. Hera sighed, shaking her head as she sulkily ate her soup, a dark look on her face.

"Speaking of wands, what is yours made of?" Hermione asked, trying to control her laughter, though it was hard with Hera making evil faces at her.

"Ebony with a Phoenix Talon" Hera muttered, stirring her soup with her spoon. Not that she didn't like the attention, but she was not exactly up to sharing much right now. Having her head chewed off by the little Charm's professor while the Slytherin first years all snickered loudly near by was enough to kill her desire to talk.

"No wonder!" Hermione laughed, getting a questioning glance from Hera. "Ebony is supposed to be the most powerful wood you can use to make wands. It isn't surprising that a slight lapse in concentration would get you into trouble like that." Somehow this wasn't helping matters, as Ron and Harry were both doing their best impressions of Flitwick flying around the room, making rude sounds when their imaginary professor smacked into something hard.


Fortunately for Hera, she didn't have to use her wand for the rest of the day, though she was bombarded by more lectures in History of Magic. Hera was startled to discover that this class was taught by an actual ghost. From how Harry had told it, Professor Binns had just died one day, and got up the next to continue teaching. The class was every bit as dull as he told her it was, too. The man could put insomniacs to sleep by reading anything. Hera was trying desperately to take down notes, though with her stomach full from lunch and her energy spent in earlier classes, she fell asleep, her head making a hollow thunk as it hit the desk.

Most of her time after her last class was spent in Gryffindor common room working on her homework assignments. There was no grace period apparently, and Hera already had a paper to write for History of Magic as well as Transfiguration. Both of which were supposed to be at least 25 inches. Hera was half way through the Transfiguration paper when Hermione sat down across from her at the table. “I heard you nearly took McGonagall's head off with a billiard ball,” she said smiling. “What were you supposed to transfigure it from?”

“A Sugar Ant...” Hera answered dully as she dipped her quill into the ink again, trying not to write like a one handed nervous wreck.

“Really?” Hermione sounded impressed now but Hera did not lift her head from her paper. She was almost half way through it now and had been working on it for the last hour. Hermione busied herself by looking through Hera's books, her brow furrowing. “Hera, why did you buy a book for Care of Magical Creatures? That's not until third year.”

“It says so on my list, and the class starts in," Hera glanced at her wristwatch, "Shit!" Hera hissed as she threw down her quill and grabbed the book from Hermione and sprinted out of the Gryffindor common room. The portrait of the fat lady cursing loudly as she nearly hit the wall.


The new head of Gryffindor, Hagrid taught Care of Magical Creatures, which the Headmistress had told her she needed to take as early as possible given that the woman had enough wisdom to see Hera's discomfort with her situation. The class required a trek into the Forbidden Forest with the third years. Apparently the Headmistress had decided that Hera needed at least one class that wasn't with students nearly half her age. 'I need to remember to thank her one of these days.' Hera raised her hand, biting her lip when Hagrid acknowledged her with a nod of his hairy head. "Professor...why exactly to they call it the 'Forbidden Forest'?" Hera knew that she had asked a rather stupid question, but she was curious.

"Well, that's a right smart question, that is. Anythin' tha's too dangerous to keep in the castle is kept in the forest. It also be home to a herd of Centaurs, but they usually keep clear of people. There are Unicorns, Thestrals, and the children of Aragog and Mosag." Hagrid explained as the students walked to the forest's edge, looking up the creatures Hagrid listed in their books. She had to admit that having her curiosity verified was heartening, though she had no idea what half the things Hagrid were talking about were. She hated having to read something else, but she hated feeling lost even more.

"I keep a small herd of Hippogriffs there too, an' there are hundreds of other creatures that call the forest home from time to time." Hera listened to Hagrid, her eyes watching the sun sink into the west over the castle. Now that she thought about it, something felt out of place in the forest, as though it was holding its collective breath, like a sudden hush had fallen over it. She remembered that she had felt the same thing when she had ventured out to the small grove of Oak trees near the home she had grown up in the night before she had boarded the plane. Everything had seemed as though it was poised on the edge of forever, waiting for the cue to jump.

It seemed that Hagrid was starting to notice too, but he shrugged it off with a lift of his massive shoulders as he beckoned the third-years to follow him back toward the castle. Hera let her eyes linger for a second longer before she turned with the rest of the class. Though when she slept that night, her dreams were troubled by images of fleeting shadows and two eyes that stared at her unblinking like a snake's.