Harry Potter and the Unlikely Gryffindor

Harry sat in one of the plush chairs in the Gryffindor common room, idly playing with the black leather gloves Hera had left behind. \'Why would she take these off?\' Harry asked for the hundredth time, turning them over in his hands.

Maybe they had some sort of charm on them that would spell out where she thought she was being taken. Harry knew this was not the case, but he hated not being able to figure out the clues. It was almost as aggravating as trying to think about where the other Horcrux were. If he could find where Hera had been taken, then maybe there might be some clue.

Harry\'s thoughts were interrupted by Hedwig delivering the Daily Prophet. Looking for a way to rest his mind, Harry opened the paper up, and was greeted with the sneering face of Lucius Malfoy holding his prisoner number as he tried his best to keep himself dignified.

The result was he looked as though he were smelling something foul and trying not to acknowledge it. Below his picture were two smaller ones, both inmates depicted having the same platinum blond hair, and haughty expressions. The head-line read: \'DEATH EATERS ESCAPE AZKABAN!\'

Looking around the room, Harry spotted Ron and Hermione chatting quietly in the corner, the worry undeniable on their faces. He quickly made his way toward them, pulling himself a chair as both smiled in greeting. He set the paper in front of both of them, their expressions turning dark.

"Who are the other two blokes?" Ron asked, reading the names again.

"Think about it.\" Harry answered. \"Hera was three years old when my parents were killed. Those two are Hera\'s parents."

Ron\'s eyebrows nearly shot off of his face. "Her parents?\" Ron asked, looking confused. \"But they're Death Eaters, Harry! And she\'s in Gryffindor! Boy, and I thought your family was strange." The look on Harry\'s face made Ron rethink his comment, and he ducked his head, muttering an apology.

"It\'s alright," Harry said, popping Ron on the back of the head with the paper, making Hermione roll her eyes.

"But that would make Draco Hera\'s cousin?" Ron asked, looking between Harry and Hermione.

"First cousin," Hermione confirmed, sitting up as though the information in her head would come bursting out. "Narcissa, Draco\'s mother, was born Narcissa Black, Sirius Black\'s first cousin. Narcissa had another sister named Andromeda, who is Tonks\' mother. Lucius Malfoy\'s sister, Lucinda Malfoy, married her first cousin, once removed; Draconus Malfoy."

Ron made a sound that was awfully similar to a gurgling choke. "You mean the Blacks and Malfoys are related?" Ron asked, remembering at the last minute to keep his voice down.

"Yes, though none of them will ever acknowledge it," Hermione said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Rumor had it that just before Hera was taken from her parents, she was betrothed to Draco." Ron made that same choking sound, earning him an exasperated look from Hermione. "Honestly, Ron. How do you think they kept their blood \'pure\'?"

"So is that why she was kidnapped?" Ron asked, getting a sick look on his face.

"Most likely. But while were on the subject, Harry, why did Hera throw you from the scene rather than run?" Harry shrugged, at Hermione\'s question, rubbing the back of his head, which was still sore.

"It was probably to keep Harry from getting himself killed.\" Hermione said, answering herself.

\"She probably knew somehow that Snape wouldn\'t hurt her, but he would more than willingly fry you, Harry," Ron surmised, scratching his head. "Anyway, we don\'t have a clue as to where he took Hera. And now that her parents are out of Azkaban, they'er gonna have one big reunion. But I don\'t think their going to be too keen on having a daughter in Gryffindor. You think she'd be a Slytherin, even if she weren't related to them?\" Ron asked, the confused look on his face again. \"Not that her wand is\'nt evil enough.\"

"Hermione, what wood did she say her wand was made out of?" Harry asked, Ron\'s last comment giving him an idea.

Hermione thought back, a determined look on her face. "I think she said it was made out of ebony. By the looks of it, it\'s Gabon ebony, the darkest wood in existence. Come to think of it, I don\'t think any Gryffindor has ever had a wand made out of ebony. Theirs are always made out of \'lighter\' woods like holly, willow, or ash. Snape\'s is made of ebony, and he\'s a Slytherin!" Hermione exclaimed, digging out a small book from under her piles of school work. Ron and Harry just looked at each other; they were so used to Hermione having a book for every occasion that it didn\'t phase them when she had a book on the properties of woods used to make wands.

"Here it is! \'Gabon ebony is the most powerful wood one can use to make a wand, however, to do so would require extreme discipline and concentration. If the wood were \'offended\', it could turn on its maker, killing him instantly. It is rare that this wood is used because of its reputation of being nearly impossible to work with. Phineas Nigellus Black, Headmaster of Hogwarts during the early years of its administration, wielded an ebony wand with a core of Veela hair. Ebony, like its wielder, is powerful in all types of magic, but has a particular talent in Protection spells.\' "

Hermione turned the page, then back again, looking at the page numbers. "This page is missing. It starts out with: \'The most common fashioning of the wand is done so as a simple scepter, carved with either runic symbols, or left unmarked. There is, however, a much rarer style where the wand is carved in the shape of...\'; And that\'s it. It should continue on the next page, but, it\'s been removed. Of all the times for vandals to strike!" Hermione huffed, closing the book with a puff of dust before tossing it on top of her papers. Ron and Harry sighed, Harry still toying with Hera\'s gloves.

"Wait, you mean she is equally powerful in all types of magic?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Yea, she\'s been reading out of my 7th year books. I wouldn\'t be surprised if she could perform most of the charms and hexes for the O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts. The only problem she has, is with control, and focus, just like her wand with its two tips." Hermione said, chewing her lip. "What are you getting at, Harry?"

"Could she have performed a charm on her gloves? Like a homing device that tells exactly where she is in relation to our position?"

Hermione thought for an moment, then dove back into her pile of books, coming back out with a rather large tome, which she opened up to the very middle. "Let me see them," she took the gloves from Harry, tapping them twice with her wand. "Clever. She put a Tracking Charm on her gloves," The left glove turned in her hand, pointing somewhere to the south-east.

-------------------------

As soon as Hera opened her eyes, she was hit in the face with a wet, blustery wind that carried all the warmth of an ice cube. The man still holding on to her wrist pointed his wand in the air, and without saying anything, a shield appeared over them, protecting them from the driving rain, and wind.

\"Thanks,\" Hera said softly as she wrapped her arms around herself, her wet hair plastered to her forehead as they walked into an ancient looking castle overlooking the ocean. The portcullis still had its iron gates which hung like rusted teeth over the enormous maw. Hera let her guide lead her into the castle, shaking the water off of her clothing as the giant wooden doors closed.

\"This way,\" Severus said, sweeping his hand to a door off to the right that glowed with the light of many candles. Hera stepped into the room, followed closely by Snape, who closed the door quietly behind her. He motioned Hera forward with a hand on her shoulder.

The room was brightly lit at the entrance, but deeper in, it became as dark as it was outside. Farther into the room, the furniture became opulent, almost as much as the chair that Slughorn transformed into. Emerald drapes with golden rope tassels hung on the windows, matching the decor of the furniture and tapestries. The headpiece of the room was a portrait of a great snake battling against a giant bird with wings of orange flame.

In front of this, was a lone high backed chair, upholstered in the same color fabric that covered the windows. A fire was lit in the enormous fireplace, and the flickering light cast eerie shadows around the room. The dark robed man that had shown Hera in walked up to the chair, kneeling beside it, bowing his head. \"She is here as you requested, my lord.\"

Hera moved her head to the side, trying to see who was sitting in the chair. A pasty white hand came out of the shadow, beckoning her over. She stepped to the front of the chair, her eyes adjusting to the light of the fire. The lone occupant of the chair turned his head up to her, smiling with malign delight.

\"Hello, Hera,\" he started, his smile growing larger at her recognition. He stood up, leaving Snape kneeling at the chair as he came closer to Hera. She stumbled back against the wall.

Voldemort cornered his guest, reaching up and taking her chin with his fingers, looking into her eyes. \"My, my how you have grown up,\" he admired, chuckling at the fear in her eyes. \"I will not harm you, unless you act against me.\" Dark eyes grew cold and dark as he said this. \"You will come with me.\" The statement was an order with a thinly veiled, unspoken \'or else\'.

Hera nodded, her mouth dry as she took Voldemort's hand, shivering at the cold heat beneath the skin, supressing the urge to brake and run as he led her out of the room and into the rear foyer. Many candles had been lit and enchanted to float in the room, casting the it aglow in golden light. The decor in this room was bright and airy, but it still oozed wealth and privilege and the gall to show it off without shame. A wave of nausea washed over Hera, though she dared not let it reach her face.

The room was dominated by golds and reds that shone and sparkled like precious metals and jewels. House Elves carried tea trays and other utensils and condiments toward the dining room where the table was set with platinum chargers and silver candelabras with candles that shone like spun glass. The table was covered in a silver spun tablecloth that threw off the candlelight in a thousand shimmers all over the walls, which were a rich, creamy colored marble that was carved with the shapes of serpents and huge winged dragons breathing golden flame.

Standing around the table, behind high backed chairs carved of rich cherry, stood five people. All sharing the same platinum blond hair, and cold steel gray eyes. Their faces were all statues carved out of alabaster, like Hera\'s own. Once, when she was very young, Hera had had eyes of that same icy gray, but they were nearly diamond white now, shining with the silvery light emanating from the room.

\"I think I\'m a little under-dressed,\" Hera said softly, looking at the five gathered. They were all so beautiful, and each was dressed in robes of blackest night, or gowns of deepest emerald.

\"Easily remedied,\" Voldemort cooed, waving his yew wand. Hera felt a tingle all over her body, and her dark clothing shifted into a long elegant evening gown the color of evergreen. It fell off her shoulders and laced up in the back like a bodice, the skirts flowing down her body like water, and pooling around her feet. \"Take your place between your parents.\" Hera looked up at the two opposite Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy, her eyes going wide.

\"My parents?\" She asked softly, walking between them, looking from one then the other.

\"We\'ve been waiting for you for so long.\" Lucinda said, putting her hands on either side of her daughter\'s face and kissing her on the forehead.

The women stepped back, as the men pulled out the chairs with a flick of their wands, and pulling them up to the table with a swish, seating themselves afterward. Only Lord Voldemort was still standing, though he had no dishes in front of him save for a large snifter of blood red wine. \"We celebrate the return of the prodigal daughter,\" he said, raising his glass toward Hera, a lewd smile on his featureless face, \"and the marriage of Hera to Draco.\"

Hera\'s eyebrows nearly shot off of her face as she glanced toward whom she assumed would be Draco. Hermione called him a \'prat\', but so far he was behaving himself, even going on like a complete gentleman with his long white hair tied at the nape of his neck with an emerald clip in the shape of two snakes twining around each other.

He was easy on the eyes, a perfect combination of his father\'s sharp features and his mother\'s softness. Looking at her own parents, Hera could see aspects of herself; her mother\'s eyes, her father\'s nose, their hair, and storm gray eyes. Though, she did maintain a firm grip on the underside of the table, her knuckles white.

With a flick of Voldemort's wand, the table exploded with delicacies to please even the most refined of palates. Moist roasted lamb stuffed with asparagus and cloves drizzled in mint sauce was paired with sweet potato soufflé, and smothered Portabella mushrooms in a red wince sauce. It was beautifully prepared and was wonderful to smell.

However, instead of giving in to her nature, and digging in, Hera looked around at the others at the table, specifically at Draco. She didn\'t know if he had agreed to this either, but he appeared expressionless. To Hera it felt like he was doing this to please his parents, and adhere to tradition. She was almost afraid to speak, which was a first for her, but she was somehow painfully aware that she was being measured, though against what, Hera didn\'t know. Perhaps the silence was because she was in Gryffindor when every other Malfoy had been in Slytherin.

In fact, everyone in this castle had been in Slytherin. She glanced at Voldemort, her hesitancy clear on her face. For the first time in her life, she was not clear on what to do, and it scared her. When the Dark Lord looked back at her, into her, it seemed as though he had read her mind from top to bottom.

\"Do not be afraid, Hera. We are your family, now. You need not return to your Muggle life in America.\" Was it Hera\'s imagination, or did Lucius\' jaw twitch? \"Or to your gentleman in waiting.\"

This brought Hera out of her silence, clearing her throat. \"Ahh, there might be something you might want to know about said \'Gentleman in waiting,\'\" Hera said, looking positively uncomfortable. \"He\'s, hmmm, how should I put it? Completely insane. Yes, that\'s the perfect word for him. We shared blood once and he started hanging on me like a puppy dog. It was cute at first, but after a few months...well, I just wanted to smother him and stuff him down a dark hole.\" Draconus laughed, a gentle rumble that sounded between a chuckle and a snort.

\"Shared blood?\" Lucius asked, one finely manicured eyebrow rising above the other on his finely chiseled face.

\"Yes, he is a vampire. The real thing, not some sick, sad, fake who goes to blood bars to chug chilled blood.\" The look on Draco\'s face was one of pure revulsion unbidden.

\"Ahhh...\" Voldemort said, that same malign smile twisting his face. \"Then you will appreciate your betrothed\'s wedding gift," he said as he gestured for Draco, who placed a vial of dust on the table in front of him, which was stopped up with a golden cork.

Hera\'s reaction confused everyone at the table. \"Whoa...now that had to take some skill.\" She did not express remorse or distress of any degree at this. \"And here I am without a gift for you,\" she cooed at Draco, who smiled smugly, holding his nose in the air just like his father.

\"And I believe this is yours,\" Voldemort said as he took Hera\'s wand out of his robes, handing it to Lucinda, who handled it with awe.

\"Do you truly wield this?\" she asked, admiring it. When she touched the thorns, she jerked her hands back as though she had been bitten, her finger pricked from the thorns.

\"Yes, but I have some trouble with control. You see, it has two tips, and it's difficult to cast, say, a levitation spell, and have it catch the right target. My Charms professor found that out the hard way when I levitated him into the ceiling rather hard.\" Hera took her wand from her mother, holding it with both of her hands. \"It gets temperamental at times, especially when it\'s out of my grip for a while. Its Gabon ebony with phoenix talon, and the man who took over Ollivander\'s place told me that the talon was taken from the belly of a Basilisk.\"

Lucius and Draco shared a look as Hera took a bite of the roasted lamb, smiling. \"This is wonderful,\" she said, completely unaware of the looks she was getting from her parents. Lucinda and Draconus both shared prideful looks as they watched their daughter begin the meal. The others joined in, falling into quiet conversation as their master looked on, smiling to himself. He glanced back toward the door to the foyer, exchanging a meaningful look with Severus as the Potions Master bowed and left quickly in a swirl of black robes.

Taking the hidden door underneath the grand staircase, Snape disappeared down a stone stairway. The halls were cramped until he came to his quarters that also served as his potions lab. In the back of the lab, in a cauldron that bubbled constantly, sat Snape\'s own personal project.

Since no one came down here, he could hide it in plain sight. This was the most complex potion he had ever devised, and it was taking nearly a year to brew. A few more months and it would be complete, but first, it needed one final ingredient to stabilize the concoction into something usable. Otherwise it could kill its drinker, or blow up half the castle if it was jostled the wrong way.

Taking a silver stirring rod, Snape dipped it into the cauldron, stirring the substance slowly six times clockwise, then four times counter-clockwise, making sure to pause three seconds before each direction change. He repeated this five times, until the potion started bubbling like boiling mud, then became more watery, returning to its active roll.

This was not what Voldemort had been directing him to create, however, and if he should glean the purpose of it, Snape was sure that his life would be over rather quickly. Though he sometimes wished the Dark Lord would find it, and put an end to his miserable existence. It was no secret that Snape was not prospering, like the others under his master\'s rule. Days spent underground would do that to one\'s body, but he had other reasons for wishing death would find him.

Reasons that were his alone. Private, personal demons that refused to leave him be, and nipped at his heels until he could feel their fangs in his very bones. Those reasons had much to do with a promise he had made a dear friend of his long, long ago. And now that promise haunted his every waking breath, and occupied his dreams until he could think of nothing but those words he had spoken.

Snape sighed as he came to another cauldron boiling on an open flame, the contents of this container swirled in a multitude of colors and shapes, reminding him of a tie-dyed shirt he had seen one of the students at Hogwarts wearing a few years go. This potion was already finished, but it would not be put to use until two weeks from now, on Draco\'s 18th birthday, and the night after his wedding to Hera.

Only himself and Lord Voldemort knew of the existence and purpose of this potion. It would be used to soak the bed sheets of Draco and Hera\'s wedding bed, and would hold the key to the Dark Lord\'s plans for the young Malfoys. This potion would ensure that a child was conceived on the night of their wedding, though beyond that, Snape could only guess.

He had a sickening feeling that the child would be a sacrifice, either part, or fully for some ceremony Voldemort was planning to perform. Snape could only think of two rituals where the sacrifice of a newborn\'s blood or body would be needed, and neither would be anything positive for Voldemort's enemies.