Serpent Tongue

*Chapter 1*: Discoveries in Diagon Alley

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

Serpent Tongue: Chapter One: Discoveries in Diagon Alley

AN: At long last, I am posting the fic that I'm sure you've all been looking forward to, given by the positive response my Slytherin!Hope snippets. I know I planned to post this, like, a year ago, but time got away from me and Serpent Tongue's chapters are going to be more than twice as long as Looking Beyond's.

I will admit that this fic starts off typically for a HP fanfic, but you will see a heightened presence of mythology and piracy as it goes on. Book one is about as canon as it gets and it diverges a lot from book two on.

Self-sufficient nearly ten year olds weren't particularly uncommon, particularly when they grew up in a situation where they are forced to think less like a child and more like an adult.

That was the kind of situation Hope Potter grew up in.

At ten years old, Hope Potter had perfected the art of unnerving stares, sly smiles, and cold eyes that stabbed you when you least expected it. She was clever and silent, like a snake in the grass waiting to strike some who met her thought. Even at a young age, this had been obvious to Hope.

It had also been obvious to her that she was not normal or ordinary.

Magic did not come as much of a surprise to her, but it certainly garnered a bit more of an awed expression than most things Hope had experienced in life.

Children could not just turn their hair and eyes different colours and change the shape of their face and body, at least ordinary children could not.

Because Hope Potter was not ordinary; she was a witch.

And suddenly why her family hated her so much became crystal clear, though she would admit that it had always been attributed to a rather vivid imagination when she was six; she saw glowing eyes in the thick mist, heard tinkling laughter with no source as she skipped rocks over a lake, almost walked through someone who was silvery-blue and transparent.

Hope had thought it was because she looked nothing like any of them, with their pale faces and either beefy or boney appearances, with double chins or thin necks. Hope couldn't have looked more different. Her hair was dark and thick and curly -when she wanted it to be-, her eyes were green, the color of leaves in spring, and her skin olive, just dark enough to set her apart from the Dursleys, dark enough for people to notice.

Apparently, if Petunia's hissed scorns to other ladies around the neighborhood were to be believed, Hope's coloring came from her mother, born out of wedlock from a fling with Petunia's father, conceived when he'd been briefly separated from her mother. Hope liked that she looked different, though, she didn't want to look like the Dursleys, never again.

She'd tried it once, if it meant an actual meal, if it meant there wasn't a pot aimed at her head, if it meant she wasn't ending up scraping her knees running away from Dudley and his bullies. Her skin had lightened to match theirs, her hair had been blonde…the approving look on Petunia's face had made her stomach roil and filled her with the desire to puke.

Hope never tried it a second time.

Life with the Dursleys was a misery to be sure, but Hope refused to leave without a plan set in place, without one, she would probably find herself lost and confused. The only good the Dursleys were providing her right now was a roof over her head, the minimum of clothing, and food, but that was better than nothing, for now, but Hope's reasons for staying instead of cutting and running were low and few.

So, Hope spent most of her days in the town library, immersed in the shelves, melting into the background, searching for a way into the magical side of her life, in the hopes that she would get far away from the Dursleys, and that was where he found her.

But most of the books that the library possessed were not the type she was searching for, in fact, most of them dealt with the early witch trials. The images burned into Hope's mind as she shut the books with a grimace marring her lips.

There really wasn't anything of value, was there?

"You won't find what you're looking for there," a pleasant voice commented and she looked up.

The stranger was beautiful with a head of loose bronze curls, and etched features as though from marble like a Greek statue she'd seen in her history books. His spectacles glinted from the sunlight filtering through the window, making it impossible to see the eyes beyond, even if the lenses weren't darkened.

A dark eyebrow rose as she studied him appraisingly. He seemed particularly suspicious…but there was something oddly familiar about him, like something she would've seen in the mirror. "Where would I find what I'm looking for?" she asked and he smiled.

"You? Perhaps Gringotts might be of service, dearest," he hummed and Hope started at the name he referred to her with. No one had ever spoken to her so kindly, not even the teachers at her school.

"Gringotts?" she asked instead, tilting her head slightly, a few stray dark curls falling out of her loose ponytail and against her neck (she didn't wear it up or long when Dudley's around, because he always took it as an invitation to tug). "What's a Gringotts?"

"It's a bank, dearest," the man spoke lightly, fingers hooking into the pockets of his jeans before withdrawing a small card and extending it to her. "You'll find what you're looking for there."

Hope's eyebrows wrinkled together in confusion as she read the address, opening her mouth to speak, but when she looked up he'd gone.

She twisted around, but there wasn't any trace of him.

He'd vanished…like magic, or perhaps something older and more powerful.

Green eyes considered the card and then she shoved her books back in her bag, hoisting it high on her shoulder as she exited the library swiftly, nearly knocking into a bushy haired girl walking animatedly beside her father.

Hailing a cab was no trouble and paying for the trip was even less. Hope had been systematically stealing several pounds a week for months now with only about a pound a day to keep her guardians from being suspicious. Convincing the cabbie that she wasn't going to be on her own was another thing entirely -Hope hoped her face was endearing enough, but you never knew-, but eventually Hope found herself at the address on the back of the card, at a place called the Leaky Cauldron.

Hope eyed the establishment with a dubious air. Perhaps she shouldn't have trusted the word of a stranger who hadn't even told her his name, but there had been an air of familiarity about him, something she still couldn't place.

She gave a small sigh and pushed the door open and entered what she discovered to be a pub.

It was the strangest place Hope had ever seen and Petunia would probably be frothing at the mouth at how dirty it was. Hope was not nearly so uptight and loved things old and far less refined.

The clientele were certainly the strangest part about the pub. One man looked so pale he could have competed with Hope's Stranger's complexion, but the hint of fangs peeked out of the edges of his mouth as he drank a red drink that smeared the colour over his lips made them very different. There was a woman with a hooked nose and more warts than Hope had seen in her life sitting at a window muttering gibberish under her breath.

"Can I help you, little miss?"

Hope jerked at the question, lifting her gaze to the man who had been wiping down the bar. He was a balding man with pale eyes and by far the most human-looking person Hope had seen since she'd stepped foot in the pub.

"Erm, yes," Hope twisted the card between her fingers, "can you tell me how I get to…Gringotts?"

The man gave her a kindly smile before pointing her in the direction of a door that led outside, but only to a short wall.

Maybe he was having her on.

Hope lifted a hand to brush it over the harsh stones only to jump back in startled surprise when they melted away at her merest touch.

Her mouth fell open and she gaped widely as the stones had exposed an alley along a rickety road with a number of misshapen buildings seemingly smashed against each other. It had an old feel to it, like she had stepped into a town in the tenth century.

Hope doubted she'd ever been down a road that she'd liked as much as Diagon Alley (as according to the small card that was the road's name).

"I see you found your way here well enough."

Hope tilted her head back to look up to the speaker. It was the man again, with a smirk present on his lips.

"Well enough," Hope agreed, repeating his words with narrowed eyes. "Now, are you going to tell me why I'm looking for a bank called Gringotts?"

A russet-coloured eyebrow arched and the smirk on his lips widened. "Do you always go where strangers tell you to?"

"Of course not," Hope said with an air of distinct annoyance. "But there's something…odd about you…"

She was sure his eyes were glinting behind those shaded spectacles of his.

"Odd? Surely not!"

She scowled further, turning her eyebrows the color of his briefly before they returned to the typical black as the man knelt in front of her so that their heads were now level and then he took off his glasses.

Where his eyes should have been was solid black, as though onyx had been grafted to his eye sockets.

Hope started in surprise at his eyes, but her surprise settled quickly into caution, the lines of her body growing tense.

"Who are you?" she asked with eyebrows drawing together, confusion evident on her face, despite everything.

"I," the man said with a great deal of amusement as he replaced the spectacles over his eyes, "am Thanatos, Hope, do you know what that means?"

How he learned her name, Hope had no idea and it only served to increase her suspicion towards him.

"Thanatos is the death god in Greek mythology," Hope intoned in a rather dubious voice, crossing her arms and canting her head. "You're a Greek god?"

"Don't believe in gods, dearest?" Thanatos hummed, lips twisting upwards.

"I'm polytheistic, of course I believe in gods, I just don't believe that you're a god," Hope clarified, looking him up and down. Of course, he certainly had the bearing of a god, as though he'd watched an age go by, it was like an aura that surrounded him and encompassed his entire being.

"Oh, and what makes you think I'm not a god?" Dark eyes glinted as he grinned.

Hope wrinkled her nose at him. "You look too ordinary," she decided with an air of finality, perhaps not the best tone when speaking with a god, but Hope wasn't well-known for self-preservation.

"Perhaps I wouldn't stand out as much if I wore my himation," he mused thoughtfully.

Hope's knowledge of ancient Greek garb was incredibly limited, if he'd said toga it would've made more sense in her head, but she wasn't about to tell him that. Instead, she pursed her lips together and conceded. "Okay…you might be a god, but why would the god of death have an interest in me? Am I on your To-Die List?"

"You do know there actually isn't a list…I'm not the grim reaper," Thanatos sighed, ducking his head slightly in exasperation.

Hope arched an eyebrow, dubious at best.

"Technically, the names are kept in a book," Thanatos muttered, "but that's not the point."

"There was a point?" Hope asked archly, earning a firm stare in return. Goading him didn't seem like the smartest option, but that wasn't going to stop her.

"A long time ago I had three sons," Thanatos told her, "one was named Ignotus Peverell, Hope, and he was your ancestor."

She opened her mouth, confusion clear in her eyes which filtered into an inky black briefly as she tried to wrap her head around that idea, that Hope Potter, the girl with dead parents and a different hair colour every day of the week when in school, could actually be related to Death himself.

Hope compared herself to him. Their hair and eyes were very different, but Hope could change her features at will, so that didn't really mean anything; Hope had never seen a picture of her parents, so she couldn't be sure which one she'd inherited her features from. And Hope had never been anywhere close to the deathly pale that he was…but if he was her ancestor, there wouldn't be many traits that she could have inherited from him given how distant she was from him on the family tree…if he was telling the truth, that is.

"Prove it," she said, with the foreknowledge that it wasn't going to end well for her.

Thankfully, there weren't many on the street to bear witness to her failings.

Thanatos, it seemed, had been waiting just for a response like that and before Hope could start to fully regret her decision, he had smirked widely and the air rippled around his hand as a cloth scroll came into being.

"Your family tree," he said, extending it to her with a flourish as an intricately carved knife fell from within the furls of the cloths, just missing her feet.

Hope had never seen anything like it before in her life. It was more a piece of art than a weapon, a thing of beauty rather than destruction. Perhaps that was what its forger had been going for. She hefted it with fascination, letting the light refract off every surface it held. The blade was silver, but more of a dull silver than one that shone brightly, and Hope suspected that was intentional, with a hilt that more closely resembled a tree branch around which a snake was wound.

"Who's is this?" she couldn't help asking.

"I believe it once belonged to Morea Avis, the wife of Salazar Slytherin."

"Who?" They sounded like remarkably odd names if you asked Hope. Morea sounded a bit Greek, but Salazar…that wasn't a name she could imagine anyone using. It sounded like the kind of name you'd give a child who didn't deserve it but didn't know any better.

"Consider them the patriarch and matriarch to the family line," Thanatos offered her as he unfurled the tapestry and Hope was surprised at the sheer number of names on the cloth. "Now, this is only the direct line…if you want to map out your complete family tree, you'll need a bigger cloth."

"There's more than this?" Hope asked, distracted by the last three names on the tapestry.

James Potter and Lily Evans were connected by a thick black line with a single green thread descending from the joined lines to Hope Potter, but under the black-threaded name was a second one in green.

"Elpis Slytherin?" Hope read the name slowly.

She knew the myth surrounding Pandora better than she'd like to admit, mostly because the spirit of hope, Elpis, was a very important part of the myth. It was better to be connected to a myth than to have to listen the sheer number of puns that her name could be used as.

"Your ancestral name…several of Salazar's descendants had similar names," Thanatos explained, waiting patiently for her to come to a decision concerning whether or not he had spoken the truth about their relation.

Hope frowned in contemplation as she rolled the tapestry back to the very top, where, just as Thanatos had said, the names Salazar Slytherin and Morea Avis were met with a line of black. From their union had been two children, Nelda and Adrian. Hope followed Nelda's line down the tapestry until she came to a stop at the name Adeliade Peverell that was connected with a golden thread to a golden name, Thanatos.

From the name were three names, Cadmus, Antioch, and Ignotus.

Green eyes narrowed as they fastened on the man kneeling before her.

"Maybe I believe you," she said, "but why tell me now?"

"I beg your pardon?" His confusion was evident.

Hope gave him a blank expression in return. "I've been an orphan since I was one year old, why wait so long to find me?"

Hope's dream of finding a long-lost relative to take her away from the Dursleys had died years ago and it was no use getting her hopes up, not even for a god with a kind smile.

In another universe she might have accepted his words with open arms, but this Hope had long since hardened her heart to the world she lived in. She had never experienced the kindness of strangers, even ones so eerily familiar. Confiding in strangers had never ended well for her either, mandated therapy sessions by her school ended with the therapist conveniently forgetting who Hope was or chalking her words up to Hope being a compulsive liar -which was unsurprising and ironic, given how much the Dursleys had to lie to convince

He arched an eyebrow for good measure. "Have you ever come across a myth concerning a god that cared for their half-mortal child?"

Her face screwed up as she tried to recall the variety of myths that she had read since she had first begun to read.

"No, I don't think so," she said finally.

"Your home environment is not ideal, even I have to admit, but I can recognize protective wards when I see them." He tapped a spot beside his temple, close to his left eye. "And since they are there for you, I opted not to interfere with their placement."

"Protective wards? What're you talking about?" Her eyebrows drew together and her hair gained a brown streak for a brief few seconds.

"We'll speak about it the next time I visit, shall we?" Thanatos smiled as he rolled his weight back from his knees onto his feet and pulling himself into an upright position.

"You can't just leave after laying something like that on me!" Hope burst out in the first show of anger since their conversation had began.

His laugh was light and clear and it hardly suited his persona as the feared god of death.

"We will meet again, I promise," he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair affectionately, almost ruining her high ponytail and Hope released an indignant squawk. "But the path you walk, dearest, is yours to walk and yours to walk alone. You are the author to your own story…so why don't you get to writing?"

And when Hope had blinked, the man had vanished entirely, leaving Hope on the empty road, clutching a knife that belonged to her long dead great-something grandmother and a tapestry older than anything else in life she had come across.

Hope scowled at the cobbled ground as though it was at fault for the disappearing act of the person who had been standing upon the stone moments previously.

Then she rolled the tapestry up with the dagger caught between furls of the cloth and shoved it in her messenger bag, muttering angrily to herself.

There were so many things that Hope was still uncertain about, and she didn't like being uncertain.

Magic was the most uncertain thing in her life and she didn't mean that in a bad way. She knew of its existence, obviously, given the sheer number of accidents that occurred around her, but here she was standing in the middle of what clearly was a magical street (how could it not be with stores like Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, and Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions?), having just had a conversation with Death himself. Normalcy was so far gone at this point that it might as well be dead.

She pulled the card he had given her back at the library, flicking it with her fingers.

The large white building, towering high above all the other shops lining the street, was a little farther down the road, but even at the distance, Hope found it quite imposing.

She could leave. She didn't have to listen to Thanatos, she had come this far, she could turn around and hightail back to Privet Drive.

But she didn't.

In ten years she hadn't found a single place she belonged. Number Four was a nightmare and her school was hellish. She was the rebel that no one wanted to be friends with, the one who Petunia and Vernon couldn't handle being smarter than their unintelligent son.

But here…here there was possibility for so much more.

Hope could feel the magic in the air, like a constant warm that roved over her skin, comforting her without anyone even being there.

Who cared if Thanatos was lying or telling the truth? Who cared if she'd never fit in with non-magical sorts? This…this was her chance…her chance to finally be the person she'd known she was deep down.

The thought simultaneously thrilled her and made her terrified, but Hope had come this far, and she wasn't ready to give up.

Hope swallowed the fears that were roiling deep in her stomach and took one step and then another, making her way slowly but surely down the street until she was standing before the massive double doors that led inwards.

How bad could a bank be?

Hope Potter was in for a shock.

Hope had no idea what to make of Gringotts once she was inside.

The building seemed to be larger on the inside than it was on the outside with a great domed ceiling from which several chandeliers dangled, crystal glinting in the light.

But it wasn't the building itself that was the problem…it was that it was run by a kind of creature Hope had never seen before.

They were short with beetle black eyes and pointed teeth, speaking to each other in low guttural tones.

What were they?

It wasn't that Hope had anything against them…but she didn't know what they were and didn't want to seem rude and ask for clarification.

Hope fingered the strap of her messenger bag nervously as she stood in line behind a tall man wearing a great deal of black who had to stoop to speak to the creature behind the desk.

There had been one of the creatures at the doors wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, but there were even more within. There were long counters on either side of the long hall with the creatures sitting on high stools (Hope suspected that with their short stature they didn't often get to look down on people), some examining jewels, others weighing what appeared to be gold, and some jotting down notes onto parchment.

She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to the strangeness of the magical world, especially since Thanatos had chosen the approach that was similar to a snowball to the face, leaving her scrambling to right herself.

"Name?"

She jumped at the snide voice directed towards her and she blinked upon the discovery that the man in front of her had finished his business and disappeared while she was looking around the building.

"Erm…Hope Potter?" Hope said, the statement of her name sounding more like a question. She was glad they hadn't asked her why she was there, because she had honestly no idea.

That got the creature's attention and he –she assumed it was a he, given the deep voice he spoke in– leaned physically over the counter to look at her with an expression she couldn't identify.

"Hope Potter?" he repeated her name.

"Yes," Hope bobbed her head for good measure before belatedly tacking on a "sir."

The respectful way she had spoken to him in was clearly something he was not used to, but he took it with good grace.

"You will have to prove that first," he said in a boring drawl and Hope eyed the podium apprehensively.

"Prove…that?" she said carefully, confusion evident even as she winced at the sound of him stamping something into a piece of parchment before extending the parchment to her.

"Walk down to the first door past the counter," the creature directed her, pointing in the direction she was meant to be moving in, "that is the room for Identity Verification."

"Okay…" Hope frowned at the slip of parchment as she followed his instructions, knocking politely on the door and cracking it to peer inside. "Erm…is this Identity Verification?"

"It is," the creature sitting at a short table grunted with a definite note of boredom in his voice. "Shut the door behind you."

Hope got the feeling that the creatures that ran the bank were the type to not dance around an issue, preferring to be rather frank.

He dipped an elegant quill in an inkwell, filling out a parchment on the date of the request. He slid it across the table to her, indication a line at the bottom. "Sign here please."

Hope's cursive wasn't that great, but she hadn't had much on the subject and she didn't particularly like writing it. But she made do.

"Now I'm going to need a bit of your blood."

"Excuse me?" Hope's eyebrows rose so high on her forehead that they disappeared beneath her dark fringe.

He released a loud sigh at her lack of cooperation, but Hope really couldn't have been blamed for that, she was rather new to the whole idea.

Without letting her move or even speak more of her confusion, he reached over the table to grasp her wrist, turning it to expose her wrist and picking up a slender dagger and nicking her pointer finger with a small slice that was enough to give just enough blood but also small enough that it would heal without much trouble.

He smudged her finger against the parchment, seeming to not notice the wince she had given upon him cutting her finger, before releasing his grip on her hand, allowing her to move the finger to her mouth.

She, however her ill feelings towards the creature before her, watched the parchment with fascination as a number of words became scrawled across it from the moment her blood touched it.

"Hope Potter," he read out the words, "daughter of Lord James Potter and Lily Evans…heir to the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Potter and Black, and of the Noble Line of Slytherin…"

Most of those words meant nothing to Hope, but to find out her father was a lord of some kind was actually kind of ironic, given how the Dursleys viewed her mother and father.

"You're going to cart me off to someone else, aren't you?" Hope asked wryly and the creature gave the closest approximation of a smirk she had seen yet.

"Yes," he said, "I am."

But this time, he was the one that took her to her next destination which was a rather ornate door that told Hope that the person beyond was a rather important individual.

He knocked twice, more loudly that Hope would have, before a voice within spoke a muffled, "Enter."

"A Hope Potter to see you, Ragnok," he said shortly before pushing her inside and shutting the door after her.

The room was darker than the hall outside, lit with lamps that cast shadows. A painted portrait rested behind the carved desk and high-backed chair and Hope jumped when she saw that the painted figure was actually moving, blinking and glowering at her as though she was something terrible.

"Welcome, Hope Potter, I'm afraid you've caught me off balance, I wasn't expecting you for another year at least."

The voice came from the one who was sitting in the high-backed chair and he was remarkably similar to all the creatures Hope had seen since her entrance into the bank, with the exception that his swarthy face bore more wrinkles and the hair atop his head was a fluffy white.

His dark eyes fixed on her expectantly and Hope realized she was staring.

"You were expecting me?" she said blankly.

This whole day was bringing down her self-esteem to a level she wasn't sure she could ever rise above.

Thankfully, her response seemed to amuse him. "Most children who pass our walls upon their entry are eleven years old."

He waved her forward and Hope sank into the poufy armchair that was positioned in front of his desk. Compared to it, Hope was impossibly small, nearly disappearing into its cushions.

"Is eleven an important age, or something?" Hope asked, still clueless.

He seemed surprised by the question, lacing his fingers together. "Miss Potter, you do know what this establishment is, don't you?"

"Erm…a bank for magical people?" Hope offered before admitting, "I don't know much about the…magical community, I guess I should call it…this bloke just told me I'd 'find what I was looking for here'." She used her fingers for air quotes for good measure and Ragnok arched an eyebrow.

"And what exactly are you looking for, Miss Potter?"

"To learn about magic…to get away from my family, take your pick." Hope had never really thought about what Thanatos had meant, too caught up in the thrill.

"Then I imagine this is all very strange and confusing to you," he said with a bit more understanding than his colleagues.

"A good bit, yes," Hope sighed with a wince. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way…but I have no idea what you…are…erm…could you—?" Hope was failing at wording the question properly and her words trailed off.

To her eternal relief, Ragnok didn't take it as an insult, only a clarification. "I and my kind are goblins," he informed her, "just as you and your kind are witches and wizards…though you are also a Metamorphmagus, according to Griphook's Identity Verification."

"What's a Metamorphmagus?" Hope asked flummoxed, stumbling over the word.

"It's someone who can change their appearance at will, it's a very rare skill, but little more than a camouflage," Ragnok told her, "only one other person has that skill…but we are drifting away from the matter at hand."

If there was a matter at hand, Hope certainly wasn't aware of it.

"At the age of eleven children are sent acceptance letters into magical schools around the world, some schools start at a much earlier age, such as Athene Academy in Greece, but most follow the typical starting age at eleven. For you, Hogwarts School For Witchcraft and Wizardry will certainly send their letter for you a few weeks before your eleventh birthday," Ragnok explained with surprising patience.

"Oh," Hope said.

Surveyed her silently, watching the varying expressions that spread across her face before he got up and unlocked a small drawer behind the desk, removing a small box and a letter crisp with age.

"Before your parents' death, your father entrusted this to me, to give to you upon your re-entry into the Wizarding world," he said, extending them to her.

Hope took them wordlessly, looking down at them. "I was under the impression that my mum and dad died in an automobile accident."

The goblin arched an eyebrow at that, clearly not having any idea what an automobile was (it, after all, wasn't a Wizarding invention). "James and Lily Potter were killed by a wizard known to the Wizarding World as Voldemort."

"Voldemort?" Hope's breath came out short upon that discovery. She had long since accepted that her mother and father were dead of something outside their control (what other reason could have been given to force them to give up their only child) but comparing a car crash to murder was something entirely different. "Who's Voldemort?"

Had she asked someone else the very same question, she would have been subjected to screeches and been loudly berated to not speak that name. But Hope had asked a goblin not a witch or wizard, a goblin who had nerves of steel quite unlike witches and wizards who still feared the name of a long dead Dark wizard.

"Voldemort is the name of a Dark wizard responsible for the First Wizarding War," Ragnok said, "he and his followers killed many during those times, including your parents."

Hope had never really felt a grief towards the loss of her parents, mostly because she'd been a baby when they died and had never properly met them, but their absence from her life was felt keenly.

Her fingers shook slightly as she removed the string around the envelope that bore her name in an unfamiliar slanted scrawl.

A large sigh was heaved when she finally managed to pull the letter free and crease it back to read.

Hope, it read.

If you are reading this then your mother and I can no longer care for you, as I have entrusted this letter to the goblin in charge of the Potter vaults and subsequent Head of Gringotts, Ragnok, to be given to you upon your entry into the Wizarding World.

So, Happy Birthday at least ten times over, Hope, and I am sorry that I could not have stayed longer in this world for you or your mother.

Voldemort is no closer to discovering our hiding place, to our relief, but if he was our only problem, that would be that, and I can rest easy knowing that you are in the safe care of either your godmother, Alice Longbottom, or your godfather, Sirius Black, my closest friend.

Your mother is probably irritated enough with me –as she always is– for writing this letter; she thinks I am too pessimistic. So, I will offer you as much advice in as little words as I can manage.

I once made the mistake of judging a Hogwarts House by their reputation alone, so I ask that you learn from my mistakes. Slytherin blood runs in our veins, you and I, and there's no telling if it will shine more strongly in you than any other Potter.

We love you more than the stars in the sky,

Your father,

James

Hope read the letter twice over before looking up to Ragnok, not knowing her eyes had filtered from her typical green to a bright hazel, her hair lightening from a midnight black to a chestnut brown.

"'I can rest easy knowing that you are in the safe care of either your godmother, Alice Longbottom, or your godfather, Sirius Black,'" she read the words out loud with clear befuddlement. "My guardians are my mother's sister and her husband."

"That would have more to do with the fact that neither your godmother or godfather can care for you."

"Why not?" Hope pressed. "What happened to them?"

"Alice Longbottom is currently in the long-term ward at St. Mungo's along with her husband," Ragnok spoke carefully.

"Long-term? What for?" It was clear to her that this 'St. Mungo's' must have been a hospital for witches and wizards (hospitals were sometimes named after saints, weren't they?).

"Insanity," he said solemnly and Hope's mouth gaped, horrified. "While Sirius Black remains in his cell in Azkaban."

'Azkaban' meant nothing to Hope, other than making it clear that it was a prison (what else could have cells like what he was describing?). But that didn't matter, right now, she'd probably be able to find something on the subject at a later date.

"I see," she said instead, mulling the information over in her mind, and then her eyes dropped to the small box still in her lap, carefully placing her letter back in its envelope and putting it between an old book on Nordic runes and Greek mythology that the library had set out on the 'free' rack just outside the building. "What is this?" Perhaps someone else would have shaken the box vigorously to discover what was within, but not Hope.

Hope was a girl who used words more than action; words could cut deeper than any knife if you tried hard enough. Her tongue was sharp and clever and action had never gotten her very far; but her intelligence would.

"Your father asked that we give you these once you came here for the first time, if he was unable to."

Hope's face was a picture of confusion as she lifted the small chest from her lap, examining it closely and opening the lid slowly to see the two rings that lay within.

The Metamorphmagus had never been one for jewellery, that much was very true; she had no delicate rings, dangling earrings, or heavy necklaces like the ones Petunia wore.

The only bracelet she'd had had been leather with a butterfly charm, but it had been worn off by age and elements by the time she was nine.

Now, Hope couldn't bite back a gasp; they were beautiful. One was made of silver, melded so that it coiled around the finger, the design matching that of a snake with two emerald eyes as the only gem. The other had an ancient, golden base, set with a glossy black stone with a symbol she did not recognize carved into it.

"They're beautiful," she whispered, holding them in her hands gently as if they were made of a breakable substance. "My father left these for me?"

"He did," Ragnok agreed, "he trusted me to pass it on if he could not."

"Thank you," Hope whispered, her voice low and reverent as she slipped on the snake ring onto her ring finger, the coils tightening until it was no longer quite so loose on her finger. However, the second ring did not magically fit her as the first did, so she simply rested it onto her largest finger, her thumb. She had no way of knowing the power imbued with the black stone.

Her thoughts were in a muddle and she tried to clear them.

"The, erm, Potter Family…do they have any…houses?"

To plan to run away was one thing but to actually do it was another thing entirely, but if her family had their own estate, then she wasn't really running away, was she? She was just going home. (Wasn't she?)

"They have a variety of uninhabited estates," Ragnok agreed, leaving his chair once more to unlock one of the drawers on the side wall that had completely escaped Hope's attention any moment previously and she was now wondering how she could have missed it.

He pulled free a large stack of papers that made Hope's eyes go a little wide as he plopped down into his seat, riffling through them as he searched for something in particular.

"Ah, here it is," he murmured more to himself as he pulled out a long roll of parchment, extending it to her. "This is the listing of estates you are currently in possession of."

There were a lot on the list. Several in Greece, two in Wales, one in a place called the Forest of Morea (Hope wasn't certain, but she had a feeling that it wasn't going to be found on any map), one in Hawaii, three in London, one in Manchester and York, two in Blackpool…the list went on, but Hope focused on one of the estates in Wales, Potter Manor, under which was a secondary name.

"Who's Mindy?" she asked, pointing it out to the goblin.

"That is the name of the house-elf currently in charge of the manor's affairs," he told her, "I believe she has been taking care of the manor since your grandparents' death."

"But not my parents?"

"Well, James and Lily Potter never lived in the manor after their graduation from Hogwarts," he conceded.

Hope bobbed her head in understanding before asking another question (she was breaking one of Petunia's favourite rules, and that was "Don't ask questions!" but Hope had never cared much for the Dursleys rules), unable to help herself, "What's a house-elf?"

Ragnok gave a small chuckle. The subject itself wasn't so humorous, but this was the daughter of a lord wanting to know what a house-elf was.

He cleared his throat before beginning his explanation. "A house-elf is a creature that usually serves the older of Wizarding families. They take care of the establishment and their master, doing whatever they ask, such as cooking and cleaning."

So, what he was saying was that they were the Wizarding equivalent of maids…Hope was going to have to learn all this foreign terminology one day very soon.

"Can a…house-elf be considered the guardian of a sole heir?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her intention.

Her straightforwardness was clearly appreciated as Ragnok wasn't one for beating around bushes, either.

"Yes, as such was often the case in the early sixteenth century," he mused, tapping long fingers against the desk in a pensive manner. "Shall I have a map drawn up for you, for Potter Manor?"

"Please?" Hope asked with a grateful tone present in her voice.

Minutes later the very same map was tucked between her letters just like the letter, and then she was following Ragnok out of the room with a ring of keys that went to several vaults that she didn't know she owned. Several she could only get in for material possessions; books, and gemstones that Hope could turn her hair and eyes the color of.

"Do you always take people to their vaults?" she asked him, while reading the engraved words that were carved above the small cart that Ragnok had directed her to.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

The subtle threat almost made her smile.

"Rarely," Ragnok said, "only in very special cases."

And then he pulled a lever, sending them hurtling off down the rails of tracks that went up, down, left, and right at speeds drew tears from Hope's eyes from the air hitting them.

There was a flash of orange fire, but Hope couldn't have told you if it was a flame from a torch or from a dragon's mouth (but were there dragons? Hope had no idea).

They went deeper and deeper until they came to a jolting stop beside Vault 687 and Hope grabbed the sides so she didn't go reeling into the only goblin she could for certain say that she honestly liked.

"What happens if someone tries to break into a vault?" Hope asked, thinking of the words she'd seen before.

Ragnok gave her a grin that told her it was probably best that no one try to break-in. She suspected imminent death might've been an important part.

He took back the ring of keys he had given her before they'd gotten into the carts, taking a small golden one and sliding it into the almost-invisible keyhole and twisting it.

Hope hopped out of the cart after him, taking the ring of keys back when he thrust them towards her, listening to the sound of so many gears clicking from within.

And then the door swung open and Hope found herself gaping at its contents.

When Ragnok had said her father had been a Lord of a Noble and Most Ancient House, she had been surprised, but the non-magical world had nobles and royalty too. However, Hope hadn't really been thinking how much her parents were actually worth.

Hope had never seen so many gold, silver, and bronze coins in her life.

And she couldn't stop thinking just how ironic it was that the Dursleys complained so much concerning how much Hope cost them.

Hope looked down at herself, at the large and baggy shirt she was wearing with a pair of ratty trousers. Petunia had never bought things in her size, but now, she didn't need it, Hope could by herself clothes that actually fit her.

"This is just the trust vault your parents set up for you, until you become of age and can take money from the main vault." He handed her a bag to pile money in. "The golden coins are galleons, then there are silver sickles, and bronze knuts. There are seventeen sickles to make a galleon, and twenty-nine knuts to make a sickle."

He was amused when Hope hastily pulled out a small notepad from her bag, already filled with inked jottings, adding the information with a pen.

"And can this money be exchanged for non-magical money?" Hope fought to remain in control of her desire to leave Number Four.

"Of course," he said once they returned to the cart, going down even further.

The next vault that they stopped at was one that could have been more closely compared to a cave, running long and deep with gold, silver, and bronze pooling in the back of the vault and various gemstones running in rivulets over what appeared to be priceless artefacts and shelves upon shelves of books.

Hope's fingers ran over a thick silver chair that held an emerald to the throat of the bust it was resting on, over the diamond earrings dangling from the bust's lobes, and then her gaze shifted to the books, and there were so many!

Some leather-bound, some not, but all with so many pages that were begging to be read.

"Can I…?" the question could not quite seem to leave her lips as she twisted around, a look of wonderment splashed across her face, not receding from when it had burst into bloom upon the entry into the vault.

"The gems and the books are yours," Ragnok said, "as much as you can carry."

And then a smile warmed her face into a blinding beam the likes of which had never been seen before of the face of Hope Potter.

She tipped two books into her already quite full bag, adding an oval-shaped moonstone and a bloodstone.

Ragnok raised his eyebrows at her choice of gem, having anticipated she'd go more for the more typical gemstones, like crystal, ruby, or emerald.

A small book bound in dark leather bearing a curled snake stamped across its cover fell off a pile of books to tip into her bag when she wasn't looking.

When Hope climbed out of the cart for the last time, her knees distinctly wobbly from the cart's speed, she thanked the goblin profusely for his assistance and help in explaining certain matters to her without whom she would still be walking around in a haze of confusion.

Ragnok waved her off, but she could tell he didn't deal with many respectful clients.

She walked past the podium as the goblin spoke to a man with greying hair and ruddy cheeks, his hand wrapped tightly around a small package smaller than his fist.

"One moment, Mr. Flamel."

Hope strode past him and out into the sunlight which had finally peeked through the grey clouds that had been present through the entire morning.

A loud growl from her stomach reminded her that she hadn't had very much to eat all day, other than a few grapes she'd managed to grab before Petunia had kicked her out of the house.

She could have stopped for something to eat, but Hope found herself effortlessly distracted by the name of the shop she'd just walked past.

Hope took a few large steps backwards, eyes fixing on the name: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

A wand! Now, there was definitely something magical about having a wand, almost as much as a staff, but Hope would take what she could get.

The Wizarding coins jingled in her bag, only half converted to what Ragnok had called 'Muggle money' (Hope suspected she'd be able to find a book on the subject).

So Hope pulled the door open, the bell at the door making a sharp noise even as it shut after her.

The shop was empty and silent. There were rows upon rows of shelves filled with slender boxes that seemed to be categorized by the colour of the boxes; some were black, others a rusty red, or a murky brown.

"Good afternoon," a voice said to her left and it took extraordinary strain to keep Hope from jumping out of her skin at the sudden voice.

The voice belonged to an old man with fluffy white hair similar to Ragnok's, only this man's was wild and unkempt, giving off a crazed appearance that worked well with his wide and pale eyes.

It was almost unnerving, the way he was staring at her, but Hope took it in stride.

"Er…hello."

The man blinked. "Ah, yes," he said with an air of realization. "Yes, yes…I'm afraid you arrived earlier than I was expecting, but I knew I'd be seeing you soon, Hope Potter."

Hope didn't have any idea how he knew her name; it wasn't as though she had told it to him.

"You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work," Mr. Ollivander complimented, taking a few steps forward and Hope forced herself not to take a few steps back. "Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it –it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

He lifted a finger to Hope's scar on her forehead that she had always been rather self-conscious about and Hope's hand clenched into a fist beside her, her teeth gritting behind her lips; she didn't much like people touching her, particularly not people she didn't know.

"And that's where…" a shadow crossed his eyes before he removed his hand. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said regretfully. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..." His words trailed off as he stepped back and Hope was beyond grateful.

"Well now– Miss Potter. Let me see." From the long robes he was wearing, he withdrew a long tape measure that had silver markings instead of the usual black. "Which is your wand arm?"

Hope held out her dominant right hand and Mr. Ollivander's tape measure measured along her arm and then from the shoulder to the floor…Hope doubted there was a point to it as he left to search for a wand.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another witch or wizard's wand."

Then he returned, holding out a wand. "Right then, Miss Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and—"

The wand slipped right through Hope's fingers as though it was covered in slime, clattering to the ground.

"I suppose not," Mr. Ollivander uttered with disappointment, collecting it from the ground and handing her a new one. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try—"

Sparks left the tip, startling Hope as Mr. Ollivander grabbed it back quickly, stamping out a small ember.

It went on for what felt like an age until Hope was considering simply giving up. The whole day had left her hungry and exhausted and all she wanted to do was curl up on her small and cramped bed in the cupboard under the stairs.

"Tricky customer, eh?" Mr. Ollivander's eyes had long since gained a manic gleam. "Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere –I wonder…"

He paused and Hope watched him with a curious sort of frown as he tapped a long finger to his lips before reaching into the stacks again and pulling out a dark red box.

"Black poplar and hair from a nymph, ten and a half inches, very pliable, if rather rare," he considered out loud.

"Rare?" Hope asked despite her feet aching from her standing on them for so long. "Why?"

"Oh!" Mr. Ollivander blinked in surprise, clearly having forgotten that she was there. "Black poplar can be a difficult wand wood to mold, it prefers cores of thestral tail hair. This was the only black poplar wand I've made that has accepted a core other than thestral, from the head of a rather mysterious nymph named Orphne."

He offered it to her and Hope scrutinized it in the box for a brief second, but she still took the wand, only to be pleasantly surprised when it warmed under her fingertips, blue smoke erupting from the end to form into what looked like a pirate ship. Hope watched it fade away, intrigued and in awe.

"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious… " He muttered more to himself as he wrapped Hope's purchase in brown paper.

"I don't understand how it's curious," Hope said, still frowning deeply at his odd reaction.

Perhaps she had been better off not knowing with the way he was looking at her. "I confess that it was expected that you would choose a different wand, eleven inches, holly with phoenix feather."

That had been the seventh wand she'd tested and it had felt cold to Hope's touch, unnatural.

"What was so special about that one?"

His eyes gleamed eerily. "It just so happened that the phoenix whose tail feather is in that wand, gave another feather –just one other, to the one that gave you that scar." Those eyes shifted up to the line of her fringe, where the lightning bolt scar lay sharp across her skin and unseen without serious effort expended.

Hope's eyes widened in surprise. "And what does my wand say about me?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Hm…that death is not far behind and perhaps you'd prefer to be out at sea than on land," he spoke consideringly.

Hope thought that was a bit ironic, but she still left the shop with a shiver down her spine and she didn't look back.

Hermione Granger was a very nice girl. She was always on time for class, always did the readings she was assigned, even if they were the most boring topics, and she loved to read.

There was hardly a time that there wasn't a book in her arms, so maybe that was how Hermione found herself seeing a number of strange things she couldn't explain. But an overactive imagination couldn't explain half of the things she'd seen.

There'd been a boy playing in the Venus Fountain and she'd seen the scales and the fins. She'd seen two strangely dressed men haggling over what looked like a bottle of blood, exchanging gold pieces. She'd almost been blinded by a woman walking past her, her entire being seeming to burst at the edges with light that her companion hadn't noticed.

It was about that point that Hermione figured out that she was different, without a doubt, and it was at that point that she'd made her first friend.

Hope Potter was girl who did not need to speak loudly in order to be heard, and she could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen the green-eyed girl smile and still have fingers left over, but Hope wasn't solemn or serious. She was clever and just a bit sarcastic that was effortlessly hidden in her voice. But she was also kind and with a knowledge of ancient history.

And when Hermione had first looked Hope in the eye, she'd almost fallen back, because there was something so distinctly unearthly about her. Her eyes had been solid black in her eye sockets, with thin dark veins spreading out across her face from the edges of her eyes. She had looked terrifying for a brief moment, but then it had gone and Hermione had remained intrigued.

Hope tapped her fingers against her notebook, a distinct frown on her face.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked as she dropped her school bag into the seat beside her, sitting across from her friend.

"Just problems at the house, that's all," Hope shrugged off her concern.

Hope's problems with her mother's sister's family was well known to Hermione, despite the fact that they had only been friends for a few weeks.

"But I'll be rid of them soon," Hope said a bit happily and Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"You're running away? Hope!"

Hope sighed, shaking her head at her friend, mournful of her lack of understanding. "You wouldn't understand, Hermione. You haven't had to live in cupboard under the stairs for your whole life. Your parents love you; my family is disgusted by me."

Hermione couldn't find the words to speak, particularly about the unaffected tone she used when referring to how much distaste the Dursleys had for her.

"Hope…you can come stay with us," Hermione said suddenly, the idea popping into her head swiftly. "Mum and Dad liked you when you came and had dinner with us last week, I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you stayed over." In fact, her parents had been positively delighted.

Hope gave her a slight smile at the suggestion. "You worry too much about me, Hermione."

And she was right to. The last week when Hope and Hermione had been walking to the bus stop to take them close to their respective neighbourhoods, which were in completely opposite directions, ironically, they'd run into some of the people that liked to make fun of Hermione during class.

The tongue-lashing they'd received for their efforts to attempt to do the same outside of school and the square punch to their respective faces had made Hermione's jaw drop. Then, Hope had turned around and helped plait Hermione's thick and curly dark hair like nothing had happened. It really warmed her heart in ways she couldn't quite convey.

Most people didn't care as much about the bookish and quiet dark-skinned girl with teeth a bit too bucktoothed and not as much care for her general appearance when she could have her nose stuck in a book instead.

"Besides," Hope said, waving a hand carelessly, "I've got a plan. I've got a place to live and someone to look after me, so don't worry."

Hermione chewed on her lip. She wanted to tell her friend not to go, to tell her to stay, but even in her head the reasons sounded so selfish.

"Will you write to me?"

It sounded more like a plea once it passed her lips, but it was better than trying to convince her to remain and be unhappy.

"Of course, I will," Hope promised quickly, combing her fingers through her hair and hiking it up into a ponytail. "You're my first friend, Hermione, I won't forget you…maybe I'll come and visit you once I'm settled."

Hermione swallowed her reservations and smiled. "I'd like that."

Climbing ladders in the middle of the night was not Hope's favourite pastime, but it was her own fault. She should have found the time to look in the attic before her last night in Number Four, but she'd been busy making plans for leaving and there had really been no time to check the attic to see if there was anything of value for her to take with her, which she doubted, but better safe than sorry.

The wooden ladder creaked as she climbed it with a small flashlight lodged in her mouth, sending rays of light across the walls as she pulled herself up, fully in the attic.

She almost wished she'd been given the attic as a room instead, because of how wide it was, but the white sheets over nearly everything would have been a bit unnerving whenever she awoke from a nightmare.

Hope took the flashlight in her hand, sending the light over the sheets, catching one that had slipped off a rectangular-shaped item, revealing two faded letter, L and E.

Lily Evans was Hope's mother's name.

Hope crept across the floor to whip the sheet off the trunk, tracing fingers over the letters that had been faded by age.

Why did Petunia even keep her sister's trunk? Especially given how there had always seemed to be some animosity between them (Hope was taking that from how Petunia could hardly bear to look Hope in the eye, the same eyes she must have shared with her mother, if Mr. Ollivander was to be believed).

Hope undid the clasp and opened the trunk, releasing a small cough from the dust dislodged, but it made sense, since it had probably been untouched longer than Hope had been living at Number Four.

Within were a number of books that made Hope smile; so, her bookish nature was something she had inherited from her mother. There were crisp uniform shirts and skirts on top of dark robes and red and gold ties that were in need of a good washing.

And there was a small photograph that must have been taped to the inside of the trunk's lid but had long since fallen off when gravity could no longer be denied.

Hope lifted it, shining the light down on it, wincing as the light shone a bit too brightly on it. She blinked rapidly to clear her eyes of the spots dancing before them before looking down at the picture once more.

It was of two people, a young woman with dark red hair that fell down her shoulders in loose waves and green eyes that shone in the sun, while the man had spectacles set over glowing hazel eyes and his dark hair was wild and untamed.

Hope smoothed the dust from the moving image.

James Potter and Lily Evans were wearing dark graduation caps and robes lined with red. Her father had his arms wrapped around her mother's waist, ducking to press a kiss to her cheek as she laughed.

The watch on Hope's wrist gave a sudden beep, and Hope jolted at the sound.

The alarm had been set for ten minutes to midnight, since midnight was when the cab was coming to pick her up, unbeknownst to her slumbering relatives.

Hope dropped the photo back into the trunk, clasped it shut once more before dragging it on its wheels as silently as she could manage to the opening that led down to the hallway just outside Petunia and Vernon's room.

She couldn't help but grimace and pray to Thanatos that she wouldn't wake anyone up with her attempts to take the trunk down.

So, Hope grabbed the handles of the trunk on one side, silently grunting at the weight as she lowered it as carefully as possible down.

Her muscles burned from the effort, but at least it worked and the trunk didn't open half-way down, spilling out its contents and awakening the whole house.

Lady Luck -which was to say Tyche- was on her side, it seemed and Hope gave a sigh of relief as she climbed down after the trunk, only wincing slightly at the creaking of the ladder as she landed lightly on the ground.

She folded up the ladder that had extended before silently shutting the door behind them.

Now for the stairs.

Hope couldn't help but sag her shoulders a little as she rolled the trunk to the stairs.

If she was someone that didn't care about waking anyone up, she would have just simply dragged the trunk down the stairs, but Hope did care, because Hope was so close to freedom and nothing was going to stop her from reaching it, even if she had to be extra cautious.

But she made it down the stairs just as the cab pulled up to the drive and she looped her messenger bag over one shoulder, opening the door with the other.

And this was when Hope Potter's life truly began.

*Chapter 2*: Hearth of a New Home

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Two: Hearth of a New Home

AN: This Hope has a different favourite flower than LB!Hope, and the transfigured burn from LB is a bit different as well.

The cab ride to Wales from Surrey was long and uneventful with the rain pattering against the window as the cabbie drove further and further from the place that had never been Hope's home, not really.

It was too dark for Hope to even attempt to read any of the books currently resting in her messenger bag where it was resting on the seat cushion beside her.

She wasn't entirely certain that the cabbie believed her story about meeting her family, especially since he'd picked her up at midnight when most sane people were asleep, but he didn't question it, probably liking the paycheck too much.

It was almost four in the morning now, but Hope wasn't as tired as she expected to be, though, it was possible that the anticipation was keeping her from falling asleep.

Hope watched the trees and plains outside the window fly past. They'd been driving on a lone road for a while now with their headlights being the only ones visible in the dark of the morning.

Sooner or later they were going to run out of road.

Hope pulled the directions she had printed off the library computer, wincing her eyes slightly to try to read the words in the shadow, but it was difficult work.

If Hope had some Aetherstone on her, it might have been a bit easier to see, but she didn't want to risk a Muggle (which Hope had learned was the term for non-magical folk) seeing her using a glowing stone to read—

Hope had completely forgotten about the small flashlight she'd used to search the attic.

She shook her head towards herself as she pulled the bulging bag towards her, digging through it until her fingers grasped what she was looking for.

Then she was wincing at the brightness of the light as she shone it over the directions, following the highlighted line of the path they had taken until she reached their approximate location.

Very soon they were going to have to turn onto a dirt road and that would lead towards Potter Manor, though the structure did have a large number of protective enchantments over it, so that meant Hope could see it when Muggles could not.

The rain was coming down harder and the mist was thick, giving the whole area an eerie feel, but Hope knew it immediately when she saw it.

"You can pull over here," she told the cabbie and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You sure, kid?" he asked. "Doesn't look like there's anything out here."

"It's not much farther in," Hope assured him, digging into her pockets, "how much do I owe you?"

The cabbie checked the meter and gave a low whistle. "Seven hundred six pounds—

Hope gave him eight hundred. "Keep the change," she told him before hiking up the bag on her shoulder and opened the door wide, letting the water splash down on her as she pulled herself out of the car before dragging her mother's trunk out of the back when he popped the trunk.

The wheels squealed from disuse as she began to pull it in the direction of the manor hidden in the dark of the night.

The sound of the car pulling away was the only thing she could hear over the rain as she trudged on. It was cold and wet, and she knew she was in the right place, because felt something brushing lightly over her skin, even though nothing was there. An entire forest seemed to surround her, mud splashing around her legs as she dragged the trunk after her.

It seemed like an age had passed before the trees parted and Hope found herself looking upon a manor of the grandest scale. A relieved smile spread across her lips as she took to the great steps before oaken double door with heavy knockers.

Hope dug into her pocket for the right key, pulling free a bronze skeleton key and searching for a keyhole, which was, unfortunately, hidden very well and Hope had to slide back a bronze covering that bore the same crest that Ragnok had had her official documents stamped with, the Potter crest.

She twisted the key and the door made a loud click, finally permitting her to open the door and enter.

It was dark and cold, but not as dark and cold as it was outside. The bottoms of her shoes scuffed against the tiled floor as she tilted her head back.

Before her was a grand staircase, carved with precision and Hope had almost expected a chandelier to be dangling from the ceiling, but there wasn't one (Hope wasn't sure if she was grateful or disappointed).

Unfortunately, Hope couldn't make any more out about the manor before a loud crack made itself known beside her.

She must have jumped a good foot at the sudden noise, her heart beating frantically in her chest as she searched for what had made the sound and it was then that she happened upon by far the strangest thing since the goblins at Gringotts.

Once you got over the whole strangeness of them, Hope found the creature was a bit...well, she wasn't quite sure what word would properly describe them.

It was very small, about the same height as Ragnok, but that was where their similarities ended. This creature had large eyes, blue and bright, slanted at the edges that made them look even less human and with bat-like ears that flopped on either side of their head as they moved. Their only article of clothing was a tunic-styled dress of crimson that bore the same crest that the keyhole had possessed.

That left Hope to assume that this creature was what Ragnok had described a house-elf to be, which meant that its name was Mindy.

Hope wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but certainly not that.

"Who is you?" it asked in a high-pitched voice, furrowing its eyebrows as its thin fingers clenched into fists. "How is you getting in here?"

"Erm…the key?" Hope offered helpfully, lifting it up to the light that she was carrying in the form of a dangling lantern.

"Where is you getting that?" the house-elf asked sharply, eyes zoning in on the bronze key in her hand.

"Ragnok gave it to me," Hope said flummoxed, before quickly informing her, "I'm Hope Potter…daughter of James and Lily Potter, if that helps."

It certainly seemed to, if how her eyes widened in surprise was any indication, and then she threw her arms around Hope's waist, sobbing into her stomach, sending Hope's thoughts reeling.

"O-Oh, Mistress H-Hope!" she blubbered, "Mindy didn't th-think she'd ever see you!"

Mindy had never seen the first born daughter and only child of her master and his wife, but she had Mistress Lily's kind eyes and complexion, as well as the same colour of hair as Master James, though where his had been an untamed mess, hers were set in loose curls held in a ratty ponytail.

"I'm guessing you're Mindy, then?" Hope guessed once the house-elf had released her from her tight grip.

"Oh, yes!" The house-elf bobbed her head in agreement. "I is Mindy."

The cool air wasn't doing anything for Hope who was drenched all the way to the bone and Hope gave a sudden shiver.

"Oh, Mindy is sorry, Mistress!" The house-elf gave a quick apology. "Would Mistress like a bath while Mindy dries Mistress' clothes?"

Hope was a bit new to the subservient tone in which Mindy was speaking, but a bath actually sounded heavenly.

She opened her mouth to agree when her stomach made a sudden growl that made Hope flush in embarrassment.

"And some food too?" Mindy asked her knowingly.

"Just a little," Hope acquiesced, it was rather early in the morning, after all.

"This way."

Hope was directed up the stairs to a spare room (there seemed to be many) and into that spare room's bathroom. The tub was large enough for her to fit into it with ease, but it seemed to be made for a much larger person than one of her size.

Once it was full, Mindy disappeared (waiting for Hope to remove her clothes in privacy, no doubt) and Hope sank into the warm water with a sigh.

Back at Number Four, Hope had always been the last to use the shower, and the Dursleys had hardly ever left her with warm water, making this probably the best bath she'd had in years probably.

And when she stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel securely around her small body, she found a small pile of clothes by the door, warm to the touch, but it wasn't the clothes she'd come to Potter Manor in.

It was a pair of lavender silk pyjamas that had been hastily –but not messily– hemmed for Hope's slender frame and short stature. Hope had never touched a fabric so fine in all her life and she had to wonder who had worn them before, as they were clearly not hers.

She hiked up the trousers and pulled the button-down shirt over her head, looking at herself in the mirror. The sleeves were still a little too long and the hem of the trousers went past her ankles enough that Hope almost tripped over her feet on the way out of the bathroom.

The spare room had been dark when she'd entered it but now it was lit with a soft orange glow from the lamps at either side of the large bed which was looking to be the nicest bed Hope had ever seen and the first bed she'd ever sleep in (the mattress in the cupboard under the stairs didn't count).

Hope crawled into the bed, under the thick covers, sprawling on the cushion and smiling up at the ceiling for what must have been the first time in a long time.

This place was large and empty but Hope had lived in a small and cramped cupboard for most of her life, and she'd only been alive for a decade, and this was the closest she'd ever come to feeling at home.

She had always spent as much time as she possibly could outside of Number Four, often in libraries, sometimes just walking around Surrey (avoiding Dudley and his crew). School had never been a reprieve, in fact, she hated school, not because it was school but because she was alone and unwanted and she always had been.

No one wanted to be friends with little orphan Potter who always had her hair a different colour every day of the week.

Hermione went to a different school and her situation was similar. Her hair was bushy and her front teeth were a little large and her appearance coupled with her high intelligence and thirst for knowledge had given her unfavourable nicknames like: "Know-it-all" and "Buck-tooth."

But Hope was just "That Potter girl" who had rumours surrounding her family for years, ever since she'd been brought to live with the Dursleys. The first time she'd been taunted about being a bastard she had simply stared flatly at the girl who had attempted to insult her until she backed off (if Melanie Stanley had tripped so hard that she scraped both her knees later that day was not Hope's concern).

She leaned back into the pillow, closing her eyes briefly and inhaling deeply. The room may not have been in use for a while, but it smelled like lavender, her favourite flower. Hope wondered if that was on purpose, but probably not, since she'd never told anyone her favourite flower (or had anyone to tell that bit of information to).

A smile wormed its way across her face.

This was a life she could get used to, one free of the Dursleys and one where she could sleep every night in a real bed.

Potter Manor was beautiful…like something out of a fairytale. The sunlight shone through the windows and mist clung to the ivy and moss winding delicately around the manor, giving it more character than Hope would have thought possible.

There were many rooms within, and Hope understood, from Mindy's explanation, that there had once been more to the Potter family, but many had fallen during Grindelwald's regime of power and Hope's parents and grandparents had been killed during Voldemort's.

The Potter family had whittled down to one to continue the line, and Hope had a lot of doubt in that department.

Potter Manor didn't look quite so big from the outside…or maybe that was just the fact that Hope hadn't managed to completely walk around it that made it seem so large.

The main floor held the 'greeting area' as Mindy had so aptly referred to it, which was where the front door was, opening into the area before the grand staircase of marble that was still cold under Hope's feet. Then there was a ballroom –an actual ballroom!– with a rounded ceiling patterned like a celestial map and Hope could only make out a few constellations, the stars that formed Pegasus and Aquila, better known as the eagle that ate Prometheus' liver as eternal punishment (it was a bit of a morbid myth, but Hope found it applied well to her home situation with the Dursleys).

Hope liked the drawing room the best (which could be found if one took a left rather than a right before the grand staircase) out of everything she'd seen yet, including the room she'd slept in; poufy armchairs and couches you could sink into in front of the fire, what wasn't to like?

Her toes tingled from the cold against the carpeting in the sitting room, but Hope tried not to take notice, far too enthralled by the building itself.

She had only slept a few hours and she was sure that Mindy probably thought she was still asleep.

The fireplace was large and hosted a still-flickering flame that gave off the impression that it would be going out very soon without any wood so Hope pulled a large log from the iron grate beside the fireplace and placed it inside gingerly.

The fire ate at the wood eagerly as though that had been exactly what it had been looking for.

Hope plopped herself in front of the fire, raising her hands so as to bring warmth to the cool palms as she looked around the room. There were several moving pictures in frames on the mantel, but, for the most part, around the room there were only images of landscapes or the sea, and there was one even of a ship in the middle of a storm.

Fingers played with the ends of the small woolly robe she'd found hanging on one of the bedposts of the bed she'd slept in the previous night (or rather the morning) and the fire was reflected in her eyes before she sighed and removed the wand that had chosen her when she'd gone to Diagon Alley.

The curved wood under her hand was a familiar presence, but Hope had never used her magic intentionally…what if when she did, it didn't come out right?

She gave a soft sigh before pulling herself up again and continuing her explorations, moving towards the dining room instead.

There was a wooden table with carved swirling designs that Hope recognized, though she couldn't be sure from where, large enough to seat at least six people, which was a sad testament of how small the Potter family was now.

Her fingers smoothed over the winding carvings that the chairs held with their high backs as she made her way towards the kitchen, from which soft noises could be heard, no doubt from Mindy's actions at preparing breakfast.

Hope pushed the door open and the house-elf gave a startled gasp, almost losing her grip on the bowl she was stirring aggressively into whilst positioned on a short ladder that brought her up to the kitchen's counters which were clearly only made with humans in mind.

"Mistress Hope," she tittered, "you should be sleeping!"

"I got some sleep," Hope assured her quickly, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender as she looked around the kitchen with veiled interest.

"How long have you worked for my family?" Hope asked the House-elf, her fingers tracing over the marble countertop, sitting opposite Mindy as she tutted disapprovingly in a fond manner.

"Mindy was brought to Potter Manor when Master James was a young boy," the house-elf said. "Mindy helped raise Master James when Master Charlus, Mistress Dorea, or Lonny were too busy."

Hope took that Lonny was another house-elf that had worked for the Potters but had since then passed on, but she recognized the other names. Charlus Potter and Dorea Black were the names of her grandparents, they were her father's parents.

"Mindy hoped Mistress Hope would be brought home after Master James and Mistress Lily were killed but Mister Dumbledore told Mindy her young mistress was to be raised somewhere else," Mindy continued.

"Mister Dumbledore?" Hope repeated the name carefully. It did sound a bit familiar, and Hope was sure she must have read the name in a book at some point.

"Oh, yes!" Mindy bobbed her head excitedly. "Mister Dumbledore is most famous! Mister Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever known!" Her blue eyes glittered conspirator-like and she leaned forward slightly over the bowl, even though there was no one in the kitchen but the two of them. "Mindy has even heard that Mister Dumbledore's powers rivalled those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his power."

"Voldemort?"

Mindy gave a terrified squeak at the use of the name, almost dropping the bowl in her hands.

"We do not speak his name!" she spoke in a shrill voice, her body shaking in fear and Hope stared.

The kind of response to the use of the name was one that Ragnok had warned her about. The fear for one name, especially the name of one who was long dead was hard for Hope to rationalize, but, then again, Hope hadn't been there during the First Wizarding War, she was just a war orphan that had resulted from it.

"I think I would have preferred to be raised here," Hope said instead, drifting back to their original conversation.

Mindy smiled sadly. "An empty house doesn't make a happy home, Mistress. Mindy can't substitute the love of parents who knew how to care for a child."

A choked noise parted from Hope's lips that was a cross between amused and disgusted. "The love of parents who knew how to care for a child? Is that what you were told I was receiving?"

Big blue eyes blinked in an owlish manner. "Yes," she said, "Mindy was told by Mister Dumbledore that Mistress Lily's sister would care for Mistress as though she was her own."

"Well, that's a load of rubbish," Hope muttered derisively and the house-elf paused in her work. "I spent nine years living in a cupboard under the stairs while my whale of cousin got two rooms all to himself (one for sleep and one for all the used toys he'd outgrown) on a small mattress that I had barely outgrown by the time I left. My family –if you can call them that– found my presence in their life intrusive but they still made me do most of the chores, including cooking, and I always got the smallest portion of the meals I made, if any at all!"

Mindy's eyes dropped and her shoulders fell. When she had come into the bathroom while Hope was bathing to collect her clothes to dry, she had seen the effects of her stay at her mother's sister's house, but she hadn't been able to accept them at the time.

But what other reason could the ten-year-old daughter of James and Lily Potter have for showing up at the door to Potter Manor with only a trunk and a bag with rain plastering her hair and clothes to her skin than having no place to call home?

And Mindy had seen how small and pale Hope was, lacking in essential nutrients and sunlight.

"I made my first friend one month ago because no one wanted to be friends with 'that Potter girl'," Hope finished, her eyebrow twitching in annoyance. "That place wasn't even remotely close to being a safe environment for a child." She was discounting Dudley, of course, the Dursleys had never had any trouble showering their son with more love than he deserved and saving none for Hope.

So, Mindy set aside her bowl and hopped off the stool to walk around the counter on her small spindly legs to hug her charge tightly around the waist and promise her a better life.

It was what Master James and Mistress Lily would have wanted.

Mindy, Hope learned very early on, was a very intelligent House-elf.

As Hope was the daughter of a Lord, she was subject to several old-fashioned traditions, including learning about the family as far back as it went, a study in at least one language (fluently, so Hope's rudimentary French from school didn't count), and knowing how to play at least one instrument were among these, but there were more, a lot more.

None of these made Hope in the least bit happy.

Her father, evidently, was a superb violin player, so Hope had chosen that as her instrument, always listening attentively -if a bit reluctantly- when Mindy taught her patiently, but that was no accounting for skill.

Hope positioned the violin's bow over the strings, attempting to play a more mediocre piece after she'd been practicing for a while, only to wince when the wrong note ruined her cord.

"I'm never going to be able to get this right," she bemoaned to herself, almost dropping the violin to the floor of the ballroom, which served as the practice room since it had the best acoustics.

"Mistress is doing very well," Mindy promised, speaking far kinder than Hope was sure she deserved.

"Maybe I'm just not musically inclined?" Hope suggested instead, staring morosely at the ground, shifting her weight from foot to foot, trying to ignore the outfit she was currently donning.

It was Mindy's idea, to get her used to the kind of dress that Pure-bloods wore, but it was still a bit strange to Hope.

Hope had flushed with colour when Mindy had told her how well the lavender robes suited Hope with her fair complexion and dark hair, but the robes themselves were still a bit odd to her. If she'd had to wear something, she honestly would've preferred a suit, but Mindy seemed a bit old-fashioned that mentioning that probably wouldn't have gone over well.

Mindy gave her a smile that made her eyes twinkle like sapphires before she checked the time. "We can break for early lunch, if Mistress likes."

"Please!" Hope replaced the violin she'd been practicing for the better part of an hour in its case with the bow resting carefully beside it before she brought the clasp together, shutting the case tightly and making her way in the direction of the dining table.

If it had been a few weeks previously, Hope would have simply flopped down onto the head seat at the table, but Mindy spent hours upon hours reviewing etiquette and manners with her, since they seemed to have escaped her for most of her short life.

So, instead, Hope merely seated herself gracefully.

But that was no accounting for exhaustion, because Hope had never imagined she would have to play an instrument in her life or how hard it would be (television programs made it look so easy…when she'd managed to catch a brief glance).

Mindy placed a hot plate in front of her in a matter of minutes and the pleasant aroma of the herb-spiced chicken and potatoes was more than enough to make Hope forget her problems with her violin lessons.

"What else have I got to do today?" Hope asked swallowing a mouthful of potatoes but Mindy didn't answer, giving her an expectant expression.

"What else do I have to do today?" Hope corrected and Mindy nodded in an approving manner, even as Hope grimaced.

She could speak articulately, well enough to get her point across, but Hope wasn't just Hope Potter the orphan girl who was never without a book in her hand, she was the daughter of Lord James Potter, and how she behaved would reflect back on her family even when she was long dead.

Give it a few years and she'd find she'd no longer care about things like other people's opinions of her.

"Greek lessons is at midday, Mistress," Mindy informed her, "and history after that."

"Lovely," Hope said dryly as the house-elf gave a short curtsy and disappeared, leaving her to her meal and a copy of the Daily Prophet, one of the most popular Wizarding newspapers for witches and wizards based in the United Kingdom.

There wasn't all that much to read about, though, and Hope probably could have learned more from a book stolen from her library. There was a big article on the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge (which was a rather odd name for a man, if you asked Hope, but she wasn't one to judge), about a law he was enacting after a string of wild Acromantula attacks occurred in a small Wizarding village, one that would limit where Acromantulas could live and what kind of food they could eat…it seemed as though they'd killed two wizards and…ate them…

Hope couldn't resist a small shudder, but other than that, there seemed to be no other sort of unpleasantness in the paper. There was something about a new development for burns at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and something about a new cauldron failing to pass muster after one potion ate through the bottom to scald the table beneath.

She finished her early lunch and Mindy reappeared to take her used dishes before vanishing again. Hope almost wanted to ask her where she went when she wasn't tending to Hope, but that wasn't really any of Hope's business.

After one last gulp of water from her cup, Hope grabbed up her book on the edge of the table, Olde Magick of Ancient Egypt, humming the notes she'd been playing on her violin within the past hour, her nose stuck in the book as she walked –an art she and Hermione had long since perfected– only to pause when a sudden voice interrupted her thoughts where they were, far from Wales, firmly lodged in Ancient Egypt.

"The Manor does look lovely, I have to admit," a familiar voice mused and Hope jumped wildly, dropping the book to the floor with a loud thud.

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest as she looked upon the speaker, more startled than anything else.

Eyes as black as coal watched her and lips twisted upwards into a faint smile. "Hello, dearest," said Thanatos.

"How did you get in here?" Hope couldn't help but blurt (Mindy had yet to hone down Hope's tendency to blurt out what she thought). "There are wards that keep people out."

Thanatos cocked an eyebrow for good measure. "Hope, I'm a god, I can go where I please."

Hope's eyes narrowed and she crouched to grab the book she had dropped on the ground. "Checking up on me?" she guessed, brushing it off with one hand.

"In a manner of speaking," Thanatos agreed, his eyes moving away from her to focus on where they were standing with a bit more interest than Hope had garnered.

"Shouldn't you be off reaping souls or something?" Hope asked him, eyeing his type of dress with curiosity and just a hint of amusement.

It seemed he had taken Hope's comment to heart concerning the himation that he hadn't been wearing when they'd first met.

Now he was wearing one that was black in colour, so long that it brushed across the floor, and Hope could barely see his alabaster toes encased in leather sandals.

"You have a very morbid sense of humour, my dear," Thanatos replied.

"And you are never going to stop calling me that," Hope returned easily.

He smiled and Hope rolled her eyes.

"Mindy," she called and there was a loud crack beside her as the House-elf twisted into existence.

"Mistress Hope?" the House-elf queried, her large eyes fastening on the dark-eyed stranger with intrigue and apprehension.

"It seems we have a guest," Hope continued with an air of amusement, "will you please bring some tea to the drawing room? My…grandfather has stopped by for a visit."

"Of course, Mistress Hope," Mindy bobbed her head, hiding her surprise as she left to comply with her mistress' request.

"Grandfather?" Thanatos said as they walked in the direction of the drawing room. "I didn't know you wished to refer to me so familiarly."

"I get the feeling you will be a rather constant in my life," Hope said with a faux-mournful sigh before choosing her words carefully. "A constant inconstant. And since we are technically related by blood, though rather distantly, I should call you something that indicates our relation."

The formal way in which she had spoken was easy to pick up on and even a man such as Thanatos could not miss it. "I see you are reading up on polite speech."

Hope glared.

Polite speech was one way to put it, another was sounding as though you were extremely well educated, which Hope, sadly or quite thankfully, she wasn't sure which, was not.

"I'm not that great at it," she said, her words slipping into her usual crass way of speaking. "But I'm still loads better than I was when I first started."

Thanatos hummed something that could have been akin to agreement.

"Shut up and drink your tea," Hope muttered.

"If you insist, dearest."

"I do." Hope smiled through her teeth and it was halfway genuine as god and mortal sipped their tea as though there was nothing more ordinary in the world.

And if Hope managed to convince him to remain for her Greek lessons, she would not admit, though Thanatos, being quite fluent in the ancient language was a prime choice of teacher.

When Hermione saw her friend again, Hope looked like a completely different person.

Her dark hair was plaited into double French braids and her eyes had a new light to them that made them almost seem lighter in colour, happier.

And she came bearing gifts.

Chocolate chip cookies and a book called The Magick of Wicca.

It had the potential to be very interesting, particularly given Hermione's current situation, which her parents had warned Hermione to keep from her best friend, but how could Hermione keep that from Hope?

How could she not tell her that when she wanted a book it sometimes flew into her hands? Or that she had once lit a candle just by looking at it?

"What's your place like?" Hermione asked her as Hope pulled herself up onto her bed, resting her back against the wall as she sat crossed-legged on the mattress.

"Big, really big," Hope replied, smiling. "We have a ballroom."

Brown eyes widened and her mouth gaped. "You're having me on!"

"I'm not," Hope laughed. "I'm being completely serious! There's a ballroom at Potter Manor."

"What could you possibly do with a ballroom?"

"Well, if I ever decide I want to have a ball, I'll know that I have room," Hope responded, a bit unperturbed by the response.

Hermione shook her head wordlessly at her friend.

"You should come by some time," Hope added, "I think Mindy is worried about the lack of contact I'm having with people my age. Apparently, I'm too isolated."

Green eyes rolled for good measure at the very thought.

"She might be right," Hermione giggled.

She had heard a bit about Hope's new caretaker since she had showed up at her house. Mindy had apparently cared for Hope's father before Hope herself, so Hermione figured she was a rather old woman, but the way Hope described her, she seemed a bit younger.

"Isolated," Hope scoffed, "I'm not isolated, I'm just drowning…do you know how hard it is to learn to play the violin, Hermione?"

"No," Hermione said honestly. "I can play piano decently, though."

Her grandmother had taught her to play; she wasn't great but she did play rather well.

"Well, its bloody difficult is what it is," Hope muttered mutinously. "And then I keep mixing my Greek with French and English and it's a complete mess when Grandfather doesn't come by—"

"You have a grandfather?" Hermione asked in surprise.

The last she's heard, Hope's only living relatives were the Dursleys (who hadn't reported their niece as missing, instead they just claimed they'd taken her out of school, placing her in an in-depth program for delinquent girls, which Hope most certainly was not), she hadn't heard anything about a grandfather.

A grimace marred Hope's lips faintly. "He's a complicated bloke…he doesn't come around a lot, but he's fluent in Greek, and that's usually what I grill him about."

"Why do you even need to learn Greek?" Hermione asked, a bit flummoxed. "It seems a bit difficult to me, like learning Latin."

"Latin's harder than Greek," Hope pointed out before answering her question. "Mindy says its tradition, but I picked the language and the instrument; Greek for Grandfather and violin since my dad played."

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, eyes bugging out in surprise, not at Hope's words, but because one of the books on her desk had risen in the air and was now hovering in the air as though waiting for someone to come and snatch it up.

"What?" Hope was quick to notice her interest and began to turn to look and Hermione wished as hard as she possibly could that it would fall back to the desk but then Hope saw it.

Hermione bit hard on her lip, expecting her friend to freak out, because who wouldn't if they saw a book floating in the air, but Hope did not.

"Is that you or me?" she asked instead.

"I– what?" Hermione stuttered, stumbling over her words in the midst of her confusion.

"Probably you then," Hope decided, "I usually know when it's me." Then she brightened even more. "You're a witch!"

Hermione was stung. "That's a mean thing to say!"

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that," Hope promised, waving her hands and softening her smile. "A witch is someone –more specifically a female– that can use magic, like that." She pointed towards the book that abruptly fell back to the desk. "You must be a Muggle-born, a first-generation witch."

Hermione was being bombarded with so much information that she hardly knew what to do.

"A witch?" she repeated.

Hope nodded. "Don't worry, I'm one too. Mum and Dad were ones before me…Dad's whole family is from magic, all the way back to the tenth century and beyond…but I've only got a family tree that starts at the tenth century, so—"

"Magic?"

It seemed weird to say the word aloud, though Hermione knew it was the only explanation for everything that happened around her.

"Magic," Hope agreed.

"Muggle-born?"

"It means you're born from two non-magical parents," Hope explained, "Muggles. Just like there are Half-bloods, like me, who can have a Pure-blood parent and a Muggle parent or a Pure-blood parent and a Muggle-born parent. And then there are Pure-bloods who had both parents as Pure-bloods."

Hermione just mouthed wordlessly at her, the words seeming to be beyond her.

"How do you know all this?" she finally managed to say.

"I live in an old manor with portraits that move and a House-elf who tells me what to do every day," Hope cocked an eyebrow. "What do you think I've been doing for the past two months? Ignoring the world? Besides, I have a rather large library."

"House-elf?" Hermione asked weakly.

"Mindy!" Hope called and the name was followed by a crack that came so suddenly that Hermione jolted in surprise, eyes widening at the sight of the creature that appeared.

She took one look at the bat-like ears and large eyes and fainted.

"Oh, that's not good," Hope sighed, fanning her friend where she had slumped against the pillows.

Not ten minutes later were Hope and Mindy situated downstairs in the Grangers' sitting room with Hermione roused from her fainting spell.

"Witchcraft?" Mr. Granger seemed to not be as accepting of the idea as his wife. "What Hermione can do is witchcraft?"

"Yes," Hope said, almost saying 'yup' before catching herself ("Mistress should always speak articulately." "No 'yup', then?" "No, Mistress."). "It's not really uncommon, but most kids don't start showing magical abilities until around our age, sometimes earlier if they're lucky."

Hope had been doing a lot of reading since she'd discovered the library at Potter Manor, unfortunately, she hadn't been able to get in a lot of what Mindy called 'recreational studies' which was basically Hope being able to read what she wanted, but that was only after she was done catching up with what Hope referred to as 'Pure-blood studies' (thankfully, she was getting close to the point where she didn't have to spend hours upon hours learning to be a proper heir).

"How did you find out you were a witch?" Mrs. Granger asked Hope. "Your aunt and uncle?"

Hope smirked, arching an eyebrow. "One mention of 'magic' and the Dursleys would have locked me up in the cupboard under the stairs, no, I kind of gathered I was a witch after this."

She pointed towards her head, changing the hair colour to her mother's rich red and her eyes to her father's bright hazel.

Mr. Granger goggled and Mrs. Granger gaped and even Hermione turned her head.

"I didn't know you could do that!" There was a slight hint of an accusation in her voice that made Hope smile.

"It's an inherited skill," Hope said with a shrug, the colours rippling before they returned to their usual hues. "You have to be a part of the Black family, which I am through my grandmother…but that doesn't really matter…"

Her eyes flitted towards the creature that Hope had explained to be a House-elf and she bobbed her head, making her ears flap.

"Magical children generally start their education around the age of eleven," Hope explained, sounding very formal and informative for a ten-year-old. "So, you just get a year to adapt to the idea of Hermione being more than ordinary."

It had always been rather simple to Hope, but then she hadn't had family that cared about her well-being having to deal with the fact that she was so very different from them.

Hope had always been a bit different from the Dursleys, more so than they had ever been willing to accept, and that had been fine with Hope; she had never trusted them to begin with either.

But it had always been plain to Hope just how much her parents loved her, so Hope sighed and tried to explain it better.

It was going to be a long day.

Two weeks later, Hope's prediction of a school official showing up at Hermione's house on her birthday, September 19 came true.

"They'll probably show up in person for you, since you're Muggle-born," Hope had said, sifting through the pages of a book she'd been carrying around in her bag, Hogwarts, A History, before finding the right page and extending it to Hermione. "Right there. Everyone else is just sent an owl with their letter since they've got at least one parent with magic."

The woman at the door was unlike anything Hermione had ever seen, and she stood out like a sore thumb.

Her dark hair was streaked with silver and held up in a high bun that disappeared under the emerald green witch's hat that was perched on the crown of her head, the point cocked to one side, and she wore long robes nearly the same colour as her hat.

The woman had barely entered when Hermione made her way down the stairs to see who it was.

"Are you the woman from the school?" she asked her animatedly before the woman had a chance to speak.

"Hermione!" Her father reproached, but her words seemed to have amused the woman, whose thin lips had twisted upwards slightly.

"I am Professor McGonagall," she said diplomatically, "you must be Hermione Granger."

The busy-haired girl nodded her head, taking the letter that was extended towards her bearing her name and address and sealed with wax that had a crest stamped into it.

"I was under the impression I would be informing a Muggle-born witch about magic that she might not understand," Professor McGonagall continued, arching one eyebrow. "But I seem to be mistaken."

"I'm afraid you're off by about two weeks," Mrs. Granger said wryly, "we've had a rather vague explanation by a ten-year-old girl."

That surprised the professor. "A ten-year-old girl?"

"Hope," Hermione supplied, "my best friend."

There was an oddly calculating glint present in the older witch's eyes, combined with startled surprise and apprehension. "Hope…Potter?"

Mr. Granger's thick eyebrows rose high on his forehead. "You're familiar with her?"

"I–I taught Miss Potter's parents," Professor McGonagall conceded and Mrs. Granger couldn't have missed the deep sorrow in her eyes; it was clear that she'd known Hope's parents well. "How is she? I haven't seen her since she was a little girl."

"She ran away," Hermione supplied helpfully, tucking the letter into the book she was carrying. "She's living at a manor with her caretaker now."

That had been very far from what Professor McGonagall had been expecting, but she had known all along that the Dursleys were not a suitable family to raise the Girl-Who-Lived.

The headmaster would want to know right away.

"How did you convince your parents to let you come with me?"

Hermione smiled widely, keeping their fingers locked as they walked down the cobbled street of the road called Diagon Alley with her school supply list tucked into her pocket.

Unfortunately, she had been born too late in the year to start magical schooling, so she'd have to wait until the next term, but Hermione wasn't too miffed (she could read an awful lot of books about magic before school started).

"It's not like they haven't let me go off on my own before," she said, "besides, Mindy counts as a chaperone."

"Yes, Miss Hermione," piped up the voice beside them.

Mindy's servile attitude rubbed Hermione the wrong way, but the way Hope and Mindy talked put her to ease. Sometimes it was like the House-elf was lecturing Hope and other times it was a very gentle way in which she spoke to Hope, like a caretaker would…but Hermione was still going to find some books to research House-elves.

"What's on the list?" Hope asked her, being the one who wouldn't receive her school list until the next summer when she turned eleven. Hermione's parents had agreed for her to go ahead and buy her schoolbooks (because what harm could books do?), but to wait on everything else.

Hermione folded the piece of parchment back to read the contents:

"All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble"

Hope took the list from her, scrutinizing it closely. "I haven't read any of these," she decided.

"I thought Mindy was teaching you history?" Hermione asked in confusion, looking around for the knee-high House-elf who seemed to have vanished.

"Pure-blood history isn't Wizarding history," Hope corrected as they stepped into Flourish and Blotts. "Pure-blood history mostly concerns how much Pure-bloods do for society, and how much they get away with."

"Get away with?" Hermione inquired, thumbing a few worn spines of books with interest, not noticing the footsteps that had followed them around the aisle, nor the blue eyes watching them with interest.

"She's talking about the Death Eater trials."

Hope and Hermione looked up to see the one who had interrupted them. She was their age, wearing robes that suited her, with golden hair woven into a tight French braid.

"The Death Eater trials?" Hermione repeated the words unfamiliarly.

The girl smiled. "I take it you're a Muggle-born?"

Hermione felt like she was being insulted and Hope frowned beside her.

"I'm not trying to be mean," she assured them quickly, guessing from their faces what they were thinking, "it just makes sense that you wouldn't know about them if you only found out you have magic recently."

Hope relaxed and Hermione gave an apologetic grin.

"Death Eater trials?" Hope replied, arching an eyebrow. "That would imply there were people convicted, but many Death Eaters were from old families with old money, and they had more than enough to keep themselves out of jail."

The girl smirked. "You're not wrong." Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "I'm Daphne Greengrass, by the way."

"Hope Potter," Hope said before nodding to her friend, "and this is Hermione Granger."

The surprise on Daphne's face was clear in the light of the bookstore. "Hope Potter? Heir Potter and Girl-Who-Lived?"

"Heir Potter, yes," Hope said, her brow crinkling in confusion, "but I don't know anything about 'the Girl-Who-Lived'."

And she wasn't lying. She hardly communicated with the Wizarding world, she was very isolated at Potter Manor, but she liked it better that way, and when she ventured out, it was usually to visit Hermione. She had never heard the name the public had given her after Voldemort's fall.

"Really?" Daphne asked a bit bemused.

"You wouldn't happen to be Heir Greengrass?" Hope asked instead as Hermione watched their exchange with interest. "The eldest of the Greengrass children?"

"I suppose you looked me up in the Pure-blood Registry?"

"My caretaker required me to know about the present Noble Families that aren't yet extinct upon the male line," Hope said simply before tilting her head towards Hermione. "Where were we? Death Eater trials?" It had completely slipped her mind.

"Around there," Hermione giggled.

"Well, Death Eaters were the followers of a Dark wizard named Voldemort," Hope explained, pulling out a book form the shelf that was on Hermione's list, "they were the ones that caused the most chaos in the First Wizarding War, but after their master was killed, most went back saying they hadn't meant to do any of it, that they were under the Imperius Curse."

"Imperius Curse?" Hermione prodded.

"It's a Dark curse," Daphne explained, "it forces you to do that caster's bidding."

The colour leeched from Hermione's cheeks at the thought of not being in control of her actions. "That sounds awful."

"It does, doesn't it?" Hope asked. "I suppose, it would have been, if they all weren't lying."

"You seem pretty sure of that," Hermione said, nudging her friend's shoulder.

"There are Pure-bloods that ally with the Light, like the Potters," Hope gestured to herself, but she didn't look too pleased by the assessment, as though it didn't properly suit her. "Then there are the neutral grey families like the Greengrasses." A small smile broke across Daphne's face at those words, but Hermione couldn't be sure of why. "And then there are those who have always allied with the Dark…take a guess which grouping claimed to be innocent."

"The Dark-allied families," Hermione surmised.

"Right in one," Hope agreed before scrutinizing Daphne. "What House are you hoping to get into?"

Her golden plait moved behind her as she tilted her head thoughtfully, considering the question seriously. "Slytherin," she decided. "What about you?"

"I have no idea," Hermione said honestly.

She'd read about how Hogwarts Sorted its students into four different Houses based on character traits, cunning and ambition for Slytherin, loyalty and trust for Hufflepuff, cleverness and intelligence for Ravenclaw, and bravery and courage for Gryffindor.

It honestly seemed like you couldn't go wrong in any of them.

"I think it would be a shame," Hope mused, "if Salazar Slytherin's own granddaughter wasn't suited for his House."

The gob-smacked expression on Daphne's face was one to remember.

"You wouldn't want to grab lunch with us after we get the last on Hermione's books?" Hope asked her.

Daphne had never been invited to lunch before, and never by two people whom she felt she could have an honest, intelligent conversation with.

"I'd be delighted," she said.

Daphne Greengrass had been expecting something a bit different than what she'd been greeted with when she'd been hanging around in Flourish and Blotts, looking for a good book to occupy her interests, and it was clear that she'd gotten more than she had bargained for.

People had been telling stories about Hope Potter, the famous Girl-Who-Lived, the one who had conquered the Dark Lord when she was only one year old, for as long as Daphne could remember.

The scar on her forehead from where the Avada Kedavra must have hit her was for the most part hidden under the thick fringe over her forehead and her eyes were shaped like almonds and the precise color of leaves.

The way she walked, with precise movements that only came from taking lessons over and over until you got it right, screamed Pure-blood (not that there was anything wrong with being a Half-blood, because Daphne could count a few Heirs and Lords who were the same) and there were calluses on her fingers from practicing what Daphne was certain was a string instrument.

If not for her clearly Muggle garb, she would have looked for all intents and purposes as though she was a Pure-blood Princess (a term that Daphne abhorred no matter how many times it was applied to herself).

Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was something else entirely. She came from a Muggle family and her parents were Dentists (Daphne still had no idea what that meant).

She was very nice but treated Daphne with apprehension and the blonde gathered that Hope was her first friend, one she wasn't keen on losing, and Daphne could admire that.

Once they'd gotten around all the walls Hermione and Hope had set up around themselves (and Daphne couldn't fault them; she had her own walls after years of getting grief for being a female firstborn), they had a rather enjoyable meal.

"You should come to Potter Manor," Hope said with a smile after they'd finished their fish and chips in the Leaky Cauldron, "you and Hermione."

"If I can convince Dad to drive me four hours," Hermione laughed.

"Or I could just have Mindy pick you up," Hope pointed out with a grin herself.

"I don't think my parents will mind too badly," Daphne added herself, her fingers tapping against the half-empty glass of water.

A House-elf made a sudden appearance beside them, but her presence only seemed to jar Hermione and Daphne, as Hope was becoming far too accustomed to her disappearing and reappearing in the blink of an eye.

"Mistress, it is time to leave," Mindy told Hope who leaned back in her seat before sighing.

"Right, I've got to get Hermione back to her Mum and Dad's before curfew," she said, winking at Daphne for good measure.

It was the middle of the day; even if Hermione had a curfew, it would have certainly been night.

"I don't have a curfew!" Hermione replied before flushing when Hope gave her a direct look.

"Really? Are you sure?"

Brown eyes were confused for a very brief moment, and then she swatted her friend's arm and glared at her as the green-eyed girl grinned widely.

"Almost got you, didn't I?"

"You did not!"

"I did and you know it!" Hope crowed, her voice expertly hidden in the chaotic noise of the lunchtime patrons.

Hermione groaned and Daphne released a small laugh.

"See you around, Daphne," Hermione added as they scooted out of the booth. "I'll look into that thing—"

Hope gave an exaggerated bow before whisking her friend away, leaving Daphne on her own, just as her mother reappeared.

"Who was that, dear?" she asked her with a soft smile.

"I've been invited to tea at Potter Manor, Mother," Daphne told her with a disarming smile and her mother, a woman famous for her ability to not show how she felt on her face (or an extremely good poker face might be a better way to put it), couldn't hide her astonishment at the words.

She couldn't wait to see her father's face when she told him the same thing.

Hope didn't sleep well that night, plagued by nightmares that refused to cease, ones that included screams and flashes of green light.

She awoke in the early morning in a cold sweat, shaking more than she could ever remember doing.

When she was small –smaller, she mentally amended– she had learned not to make much noise when she awoke from her nightmares, mostly because the Dursleys didn't take kindly to their niece waking them up in the middle of the night.

But Hope had always thought that she might grow out of them someday, but the nightmares waxed and waned just as the moon in the sky did. Most nights she'd be able to sleep peacefully, but that nightmare never really left her.

Hope could only lay awake, listening to the thud of her own heart and her own blood rushing in her ears, waiting for her racing heart to calm so that she could fall back to sleep once more.

So Hope closed her eyes and dreamed of the starry sky instead.

Greens looked the best on Hope, no matter what Mindy said, greens and black, that much Hope knew and she insisted her wardrobe reflect her decision.

The look Mindy gave her when she was being measured in Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions (or simply known as Madam Malkin, for the woman who owned it).

"Mistress is being irrational," the House-elf insisted, "Mistress will drown in dark colours."

"Your House-elf is right," the Madam told her with a half-smile as Hope scowled further, "maybe you should add a few lighter colours to your choices? That way you have the darker colours you like and a few different ones for days you might spend in the sunlight."

Hope considered it and Mindy held her breath. Black was rather sun-absorbent, so maybe it would be a good idea to get some clothes that lighter and suited for nicer weather.

It had been lovely out in Wales for the past few days. Hope could see the lavender in the potted plants by the doors a more vibrant purple than they had been when it was raining and foggy.

"Alright, fine," she conceded and Mindy thanked the gods for their intervention. "But only a few!"

"Of course," Madam Malkin smiled kindly.

And if she caught sight of Hope's scar as she ran her hand through her hair, she did not mention it.

Hope still thought that Wizarding fashion was a bit strange and for the most part she wore Muggle-styled clothing; jeans that fit her and actually didn't have holes and shirts that weren't so baggy that they had to be bunched up with a hair tie.

Robes were ridiculous, if you asked her, though she was sure she would be forced to wear them in public at one point, so, she would have to get used to them. The only reason Hope had agreed was because Mindy had consented to a few pantsuits with waistcoats, because Hope was certain she could only handle so much of wearing dresses. Mindy hadn't approved, but she'd taken what she could get from Hope.

But Hope really didn't want to get used to them.

Hope wanted to go home and stumble over her Greek and read her books (now that she had finished her 'Pure-blood studies', for the most part) and practice her violin for hours (which was not because she wanted to but because she wanted to get it finished with quickly; however violin playing was not as easy as it sounded). Hope wanted to Thanatos to visit again, even if it was to give lectures on how bad certain magicks were and Hope wanted to finish exploring the wide expanse that belonged to the Potter family.

Hope did not want to be stuck in a robe-fitting room for robes she didn't want, but she still did what Mindy requested, because Mindy was the one that taught her how to survive in a world of Pure-blood society, because Mindy was the reason Hope could live the life she'd always wished for but had never allowed herself to dream of.

"There," Madam Malkin said, sticking in the last pin and smiling at her, "you're done! The robes should be ready in a few weeks. An owl will be sent to let you know when you can come and pick them up."

"Thank Zeus!" Hope muttered in an exaggerated manner before removing herself gingerly from the robes.

"I'm going to Flourish and Blotts, Mindy, grab me when you're done!" Hope called over her shoulder as she made a hasty exit, almost running into someone on her way out before weaving around them.

Remus Lupin had not been anticipating on coming back to London, but he wasn't doing very well money-wise and his last job hadn't ended very well.

Life as a werewolf had never been easy, but Remus wished he could hold a job for more than a few months, though his medical condition made that nearly impossible.

James and Lily had left him some money to help him look after himself in their will, but Remus refused to touch it, no matter if it would solve his money problems.

That was there money and it wouldn't feel right of him to take it, even though his friends were long dead.

The small bell on Madam Malkin's dinged beside him and a small figure made an exit, a very familiar small figure that Remus would have recognized anywhere.

He'd lost count just how many times James had summoned the Potter family House-elf with one request after the other, and as they'd gotten older, the requests had gotten stranger, though her expression had only gotten more and more bemused.

"Mindy?" he asked cautiously, in case it wasn't the House-elf he was thinking of, because why would the Potter family House-elf by out on her own when the last of the Potter line was safe at her aunt's?

"Mister Remus!" Mindy squeaked. "Mindy did not see you!"

She patted his leg kindly and Remus' smile softened; he'd always had a soft spot for Mindy.

"How are you, Mindy?" he asked her.

"Mindy is well, Mister Remus," Mindy said, before correcting herself, "Mindy will be well once she gets Mistress home for lunch."

"Mistress?" Remus said, the word rolling off his tongue strangely.

The last Mistress Potter had been Dorea Black-Potter, James' mother, and he couldn't imagine Mindy switching families before the last member was dead (and that idea gave him a feeling akin to swallowing a lump of coal).

"Mistress Hope," Mindy agreed and Remus' heart jolted in his chest as she nodded towards the bookstore where a girl was exiting, apparently enthralled with the book she had just bought.

She was small, the appropriate size for a ten-year-old, with long dark curls obscuring her face before she looked up and Remus would have known those green eyes anywhere paired with the olive cheeks that had made Lily stand out with ease even among her fellow red-heads.

"Mindy, look at what I found!" Hope walked right past him to show Mindy the book. "Celtic mythology and how it ties into runes!"

"It sounds like a good book for Mistress," Mindy agreed, smiling up at the girl before she gave her knee a small pat. "Mindy would like to introduce Mistress to someone."

Hope's eyes shifted to the man standing beside her with green eyes much paler than her own and brown hair streaked with grey. His robes hung off his thin frame, reminding her of how she had been when she'd first arrived at Potter Manor.

"This is Remus Lupin, a friend of Master James."

*Chapter 3*: Secrets Bathed in Moonlight

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Three: Secrets Bathed In Moonlight

AN: Ages for the girls, since the question was posed: Hermione just turned eleven, and Daphne and Hope are still ten; they won't be going to Hogwarts until next year.

Albus Dumbledore was a very careful man, that much could be said, frighteningly careful, to a fault. And it was that cautious nature that had caused him to make many decisions that he found no fault in, but he would soon discover that others did.

He had been there to hear the prophecy Sybill Trelawney had given concerning Hope Potter and Lord Voldemort (because it could have been no one else, other than the daughter of James and Lily Potter, as the only other child who had the potential to be the Chosen One was a boy when the prophecy had clearly called for a girl) and it had been his choice to dispatch Hagrid to gather Hope from the wreckage of her parents home after their death, and his choice to have her left at her aunt's house, regardless of what the Potters' will called for.

It was imperative that Hope be raised by her aunt, even if it wasn't the best environment for her, there was a need that he would never divulge as to why she was to be raised in the Muggle World.

But who knew just how much of that was true and what was false; only Dumbledore and he'd never admit it.

Voldemort was a demon of his own making, just as Hope was the forged solution to that problem.

And Albus Dumbledore choked on his sherbet lemon when Professor McGonagall told him Hope was not there.

He coughed profusely before managing to clear his clogged throat.

"I beg your pardon?" he finally managed to say.

"Hope Potter is no longer living at Number Four, Privet Drive," Professor McGonagall informed him. "She was friends with one of the Muggle-borns that will be joining Hogwarts next fall and she said that Hope ran away."

"Ran away?" Dumbledore asked bleakly.

"I went and investigated the house while the Dursleys were out," Professor McGonagall continued as though she had not been interrupted. "There are no indications that anyone else has been living in that house aside from the Dursleys."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose.

"There was a cupboard under the stairs," Professor McGonagall continued mulishly, "that held a foreign scent, but it was more than a month old."

She had been investigating in her Animagus form, after all, and her nose was highly sensitive.

Oh, this was not good, this was very not good.

But the delicate silver instruments that rested on the table gave no indication that she was unwell; the one that indicated her health was still released occasional puffs of white smoke at eleven o'clock every day for a few short seconds, and there was no indication that the wards had been tampered with.

How was this possible?

"She must be found," he said, before adding, "discreetly…I have contacts in the Auror Office."

"Aurors won't be good for keeping it quiet," Professor McGonagall disagreed, but he paid her no heed, he had much to think about.

The flames flickered ominously in the fireplace, casting a soft glow upon the two figures seated in Potter Manor's drawing room.

Hope sat with a straight back, her tea still in its cup, resting on the cushion beside her as she looked over the man sitting at the opposite side of the couch she was perched on.

She was not what Remus had been expecting, in fact, she reminded him just a little of Andromeda Black before she had met Ted Tonks.

Hope spoke carefully and moved precisely, something that could have only come from practice, and her eyes were far too cautious, as though she didn't yet know whether to believe that he was her father's friend.

The only sign of her unease was how she was twisting her fingers in her lap.

"How well did you know my father?" she asked him, finally lifting the cup of tea to her lips for a sip. If the contents had gone cold, Hope gave no indication.

"We became friends when we were eleven," Remus told her, smiling fondly at the memory of brighter times. "Our little group called ourselves the Marauders and I was called Moony."

Confusion marred Hope's face as her eyebrows drew together and she listened intently. Moony sounded like an odd name, if you asked her, but she knew better than to judge.

"I was there for your parents' wedding," he added, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand, "and after you were born—"

Her frown deepened and she cut across him quickly. "If you were such good friends with my father then why didn't you raise me?"

Remus expelled an audible sigh, sagging under the words directed towards himself. "I wanted to," he admitted, recalling the day he had beseeched Dumbledore, but his old headmaster had adamantly refused, stating Hope was already in a safe and loving environment, "but I was told you were better off where you were."

Hope clenched her teeth behind her lips. "Better off?" she couldn't help but scoff. "According to who?"

Pale green eyes widened in the manner that she had spoken in. "Professor Dumbledore."

Hope's smile was cold and unfeeling. "Of course," she said, "it always does come down to this 'Dumbledore' bloke."

"Mistress," Mindy reproached the small girl as she stepped forward to add more tea to Hope's empty cup.

Hope waved her concerns off.

"Safe? Maybe, if what Grandfather said about the wards was accurate," Hope conceded, taking a small sip of the tea while it was hot. "Loving? Very far from."

The disdain in her voice could not have been made plainer.

"I didn't know my own birthday until I had a school physical when I was seven," Hope told him. "I have never celebrated it, or, I should say my former guardians never celebrated my birthday…but their son's birthday was a bit over-celebrated."

If she had looked up, she would have seen the horror on his face –little Hope, James and Lily's Hope, not knowing what her birthday was until she was seven– as bile rose up inside him.

"I always got less of everything," Hope seemed unconcerned, but Remus could see Mindy's grip tightening over the tea kettle. "Mindy," she appealed to her and the House-elf quickly arranged a smile on her face for her young mistress that made Remus' own lips twist upwards, "could you please bring me my parents' will?"

"Yes, Mistress," Mindy said, bowing simply to her as she placed the tea kettle on the tray on the side table before disappearing.

"I wish I could have taken you in," Remus said after a moment of silence, "but I am not a good person to be around, Hope." Particularly not on full moons.

"You don't seem like a bad person," Hope countered, scowling at him in a way that was more adorable than anything else, mostly because her lower lip jutted out in a pout, which ruined the effect she was trying to have.

"It's not that…kind of problem," Remus said with a bit of difficulty when Mindy returned with a thick roll of parchment.

Hope took it, reading a section aloud. "If we both die and leave behind our surviving daughter, we appoint as the guardians of the person and property of our daughter her godfather Sirius Black and godmother Alice Longbottom. They shall have custody of our daughter. If, due to extenuating circumstances, they cannot fulfill this obligation, it will fall to Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew to care for our daughter in their stead."

Remus' hands were shaking and he swallowed thickly, blinking furiously as he looked down at the will she had handed him. If only things had been different…if only they'd found Sirius out from the start…

"I don't see a mention of the Dursleys, do you?" she asked him.

"No, I don't," he said finally, giving her a slight smile and she gave one of her own and it very much suited her face and Remus found he preferred the smile than the thin-lipped expression she had attempted to wear before.

"Will you be staying for lunch?" Hope asked him. "Mindy makes a mean Sheppard's Pie."

"I –I can recall," Remus said, blinking as Hope stood smoothly.

"Good," Hope said, grinning now as she extended her hand towards him. "Maybe we should start over? Hi, I'm Hope; you know a lot about my parents and I know very little…maybe you want to stay for a while and tell me stories?"

Hope had never had stories she liked or indeed anyone to tell them to her, and she'd always lost interest in fairytales where the princes and the knights were the heroes.

Remus released a small huff of a laugh. "I'd be happy to," he promised as he took her hand and the blinding smile matched Lily's proportions far more than he'd anticipated.

Dumbledore could find no trace of her; it was as if she never existed in the first place. It was almost unnerving how she'd managed to disappear so effortlessly.

And he couldn't think of where she could be.

In the deepest darkest parts of his mind he considered the possibility of Death Eaters that had renounced Voldemort grabbing her off the streets.

But he remembered what Minerva had said about Hope's friend, the Muggle-born girl, that she had told her that Hope had run away.

However, even if that was the case, he should have still been able to track her with magic, unless she was somewhere that was untraceable and undetectable to outside influences.

And it was best if very few people knew that the Girl-Who-Lived had been misplaced.

Remus stayed for lunch, and for dinner, and then he stayed the night.

And he couldn't remember a night he'd slept so well since his friends' deaths from all those years ago.

Hope was a very clever child and most less stoic and quiet once they began conversing in earnest.

It was hard to see who she was more like: James or Lily.

And she had somehow managed to convince him to stay at Potter Manor with a few choice words and batting her big green eyes.

"I pity the lad you ever bring home," he told her on the fourth night since he had decided to stay as what Hope called being her 'minder'.

"Why's that?" Hope asked, her eyes glittering as they turned hazel just briefly (and Remus had nearly forgotten that Hope was a Metamorphmagus, as she wasn't one for changing her appearance very much).

"Because you'll be able to charm them with very few words," he replied simply and Hope's grin widened.

"It's an acquired skill, or so I'm told," she preened under the compliment. "I work hard at it."

Remus coughed, choking on the gulp of pumpkin juice as he snorted and Hope hid her own giggles in her mouthful of soup.

"But you are going to stay, aren't you?" Hope beseeched him, bringing him back to the start of their discussion.

The full moon was getting closer as his time with Hope wore on and he wasn't sure how his friend's daughter was going to react to the idea of her guest as a monster to be feared.

But at the same time he was absolutely certain that James would prefer that one of his friends care for his child rather than a House-elf (nothing against Mindy, but there were some things that she just couldn't do).

"Mindy says you got good marks on your OWLs and NEWTs," Hope added, "you could be my tutor!...On top of, you know, being my minder…" She gave a sheepish smile.

"Yes," Remus said, "I'll stay."

"Yes!" Hope pumped her fist into the air ecstatically.

The day of the full moon was the worst that Remus had felt in a while and he couldn't walk without the aid of his cane, and it was also the day that Hope decided she was going to walk around the Potter lands, after spending day after day inside (and it was something Mindy heartily approved of). Of course, Remus didn't have to join her, but exploring was so much better when there was someone to share in the discovery.

"Hermione wants to come over," Hope confided in him, taking his hand as they travelled into the sparse trees to cross over a small stream by walking across a branch that had fallen some time ago. "And so does Daphne, but she's not as obvious with her hinting…I said I'd check with you first, so…?"

"It's your house, I'm just a—" Remus started to say as he stumbled off the log after her before she stopped short to give him a flat stare.

"If you say a guest, I will hex you," she promised, jabbing him in the chest with her finger.

"You don't know any hexes," Remus said after a moment of deliberation, because he'd seen Lily Evans in action and her hexes were vicious; he prayed Hope had a few more years at least before she was as good as her mother.

"I will find one and use it on you," Hope warned, taking a few steps towards an overgrown path.

Remus' smile strained the muscles of his face. "Go, invite your friends; I'm sure the manor could use some livening up."

"So Mindy says," Hope muttered under her breath. "And you haven't met Grandfather yet…but he usually drops by unannounced…"

Remus had heard about Hope's elusive grandfather from Mindy, but even the House-elf was cautious about the man; Remus doubted they were actually related because both of Hope's grandfathers were dead.

"Sounds like a charming fellow."

"Try not to be surprised when you see him," Hope added, ignoring his comment.

"Surprised, why?" Remus couldn't imagine what would surprise him, after all, he was used to stares himself, mostly to do with the scars that lined his face. Someone similar wouldn't earn such a look from him.

"Imagine an ancient Greek statue only alive," Hope suggested, gesticulating wildly. "Like Pygmalion!"

"Pygmalion?" Remus was not as knowledgeable in Greek myths as his pseudo-niece.

"He was this Greek sculptor who fell in love with the woman he'd sculpted," Hope said, waving a hand carelessly, "she was apparently very beautiful."

"And you're saying that your grandfather is very beautiful?" Remus asked, faintly amused by the assumption.

"Well, of course," Hope replied as though any other assessment would have been inaccurate. "He's Thanatos, of course he's beautiful…it's almost unfair how pretty he is…but I guess you can't always win."

Thanatos was an odd name, to be sure. Naming children after ancient gods wasn't a common practice, even amongst wizards.

"Your grandfather is named after a death god?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hope scoffed, "he's the death god himself."

Remus gave her a look that said he didn't believe her for a second, but he didn't press the issue as they drifted to another topic.

"So, it was love at first sight for Dad?" she asked.

It had slipped her mind to release her grip on Remus' hand once they'd crossed the stream, but Remus didn't bother to remind her; it was something Lily would have done.

"Yes, for James it was, but your mother despised him," Remus said with a bit of fondness.

"Why?" Hope tugged on his arm incrementally as they passed by a short but deep ravine as if she thought Remus with his limp and cane was going to fall over the edge (Remus was far more worried of the same for Hope).

"James had a certain level of…arrogance when he was younger," Remus told her, "he was a very stanch Gryffindor and he could be a bit of a bully."

"Oh," Hope said with a bit of disappointment. She had never liked bullies, being the one that bullies often picked on.

"Lily was friends with a boy in Slytherin named Severus Snape," Remus continued, "and he and James never saw eye to eye. James was a Pure-blood who hated the idea of blood purity and Severus was the type to hang out with Blood Purists, shall we say? It was the thing that eventually broke Lily and Severus' friendship."

"Why?" Hope asked again.

"Well, Severus called Lily something she couldn't forgive," Remus said, grimacing slightly as he recalled the memory of the day in question. "He called her a Mudblood, which is a cruel thing to call someone who is Muggle-born. It means dirty blood or common blood, and it's very offensive."

Hope frowned, thinking of Hermione who had been made fun of for her teeth and smarts at Muggle school and imagining what it would be like if she went to Hogwarts only to face more discrimination.

"Your father grew up after a while and somehow he managed to charm Lily onto a date and they hit it off after that."

Remus' leg was beginning to irritate but he tried not to let it show even as Hope took a sudden sharp turn, taking them back in the direction they had come in.

Hope was silent for a long time, her thoughts swirling in her mind.

"What about you?" she asked him finally.

"What about me?" he asked in surprise as they crossed over the stream once more.

"How did you feel about my mother?"

Remus gathered she meant "What was your relationship like with my mother?" and not "Did you have a crush on my mother?"

"Lily and I always got on rather well," Remus said with a soft smile. "I was the most studious of James' friends and she always said she preferred me best before she decided to date James, and he was always jealous of the time we spent together, studying."

James had had his flaws, but there were many good things about James and Remus was going to make sure that Hope knew both sides before she went to Hogwarts, because as far as he could remember, Severus Snape still taught and he still held a deep grudge for James.

The moon was clear and bright as it filtered in through Hope's window onto the bed where she was sitting, reading a book on Rune Analysis by candlelight and the light of an Aetherstone that rested in a leather pouch around her neck, illuminating the pages before her.

Since Hope was Heir Potter and Potter Manor belonged to her, the master bedroom was the one she slept in at night. This meant that she had a bigger bed, bedroom, and bathroom than the other rooms in the house. But there also wasn't all that much in the room that Hope had personalized.

There was an unmoving Muggle photograph of Hope and Hermione outside the library where they'd first met, each holding a book in their arms as they smiled widely, and it was resting against the vase full of lavender on the mahogany desk beside a framed picture that Remus had given her of her parents on their wedding day (the one she'd found in her mother's trunk was still where it was).

But there wasn't a lot to the room.

And Hope was in need of another book.

She pulled back the covers of the bed in time to hear a howl of a wolf outside the manor and then she froze.

There weren't…wolves out there, were there?

Hope pulled herself out of bed, wrapping her robe around herself quickly and grasping the candleholder, wrenching the door open and walking quickly down the hall before descending the stairs in time to see a flash of fur close to the window in the drawing room, complete with flashing amber eyes and a howl.

A startled cry left Hope as the creature was forced back by a pulsating shine of blue and she clutched the candleholder even tighter as she peered closer as it ran off, though the blue sheen around the manor remained, like the manor was trapped inside a blue snow globe.

"What the—?"

"Mistress! You should be in bed!"

Hope jumped wildly, nearly dropping the candleholder on Mindy, only managing to keep her grip by sheer willpower. "Mindy! What is that?"

"What is what, Mistress?" Mindy asked, though her voice came off just a touch too high-pitched to be a truthful voice. "Mindy sees nothing."

"Mindy…" Hope warned. She didn't make orders that much of Mindy, more often than not what she made were requests that started with please and ended in thank you, but she would make an order if she had to.

Mindy's shoulders sagged slightly. "Mister Remus."

"Remus? What's Remus got to do with it?" Hope blurted.

If it was another time, Mindy would have waited for her to correct her speech pattern, but now was not the time for that.

"Mister Remus is the werewolf," Mindy said with a bit of a grimace, gesturing out the window towards the creature ripping across the wide glen.

Hope balked, looking out the window and then back to her in a bit of disbelief. "A werewolf?"

Sure, she'd heard stories about werewolves, but they were stories told to scare children, about mindless monsters that went from men to monsters with the waning of the moon, monsters that could only be killed by a bullet made of silver.

Magical creatures hadn't been the focus of any of the lessons that Mindy had given her.

She looked out towards the glen again, listening to the howl that sounded more pained than anything else Hope had heard.

The gears in her mind were turning rapidly as her thoughts raced.

"I'll…be in the library," she said finally, her voice a little distant and Mindy gave her a small curtsy before she went to prowl through the stacks, and Potter Manor had a large library filled with so many books. Thankfully they were organized by subject, so Hope merely had to find the section that concerned magical creatures.

She set down her candleholder with a loud thunk, the Aetherstone around her neck swinging wildly from the movement as she pulled free the Magical Creature Registry from the shelf and thumbed it open to the right page.

Werewolf is the term given to those infected with the incurable lycanthropy disease. Werewolves are humans that, upon a full moon, become a near-wolf with strength and healing superior by far to that of humans. The werewolf has no choice in whether to transform or not, the lycanthropy infection bars this from them, and once they transform, they will have no ability to tell the difference from friend or foe, though they will be able to recall everything once their mind is sound once more.

Werewolves, though considered a near-wolf when compared to a wolf, have several distinct differences from ordinary wolves, such as: they have shorter snouts, more human-like eyes which turn amber during the transformation regardless of the color they were before, a tufted tail, and their mindless hunting of humans when in their wolf-form.

Lycanthropy is a magical illness spread through the werewolf's saliva and blood, however it can affect Muggles, though most die soon after being bitten. And if a human is bit by a werewolf on a day other than the full moon, they do not become a werewolf, only gaining lupine tendencies. But any bite or scratch by a werewolf will leave permanent scars on the one attacked by these creatures.

There is no cure to lycanthropy and werewolves, once infected, must live with the infection for all their life.

Hope took the book and another and dropped them at the desk, reading over the words concerning werewolves well into the early morning.

By the morning, sometime around eight o'clock, Hope knew from a glance to the grandfather clock that resided in the library, Remus had still not returned.

Hope hadn't slept a wink that night, the howling wasn't so intrusive that it kept her awake, but she had spent the early morning looking up anything and everything concerning werewolves and lycanthropy.

She might have considered herself an expert on the subject by the time the sun came up, but that mattered little.

A jacket was thrown over her shoulders and boots on her feet as she braved the morning chill in her pyjamas.

Hope almost sprained her ankle when she lodged it in a hole made by stones ripped from the ground.

There were signs of where Remus had been with claw-marks tilling the earth and Hope followed the gashes in the ground that was peppered with several dots of crimson.

Maybe he had run into a tree and gotten himself cut? Even as Hope considered it, it seemed unlikely. According to the books she had read in the early morning, werewolves were very strong and it didn't seem as though they bruised or cut easily…unless they were bruising and cutting themselves.

Hope wondered if the scars on his face were from himself or the werewolf who had made him into what he was.

Twigs snapped underneath her feet as she walked, moving carefully over the broken half of an oak tree that appeared to have been crudely snapped in the night before sloshing through the mud that accumulated once the rain had picked up.

Brown stained her boots and the pant-legs of her pyjamas as she picked her way through the glen.

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting to find when she stepped out of the manor. Maybe she'd been thinking that Remus would be easier to find, but that was not the case.

Hope half-expected Remus to come stumbling out of the woods, missing one shoe, with his clothes hanging off of his thin frame, but that didn't happen.

There was an echoing silence around Hope when she paused in her search. A few birds chirped in the morning air, water rushed languidly over rocks, and branched creaked in the wind.

Hope wasn't yet desperate enough to find the werewolf that she needed to call upon Mindy, but it was a very near thing when she stumbled into the stream, catching sight of a pale shoulder marred by a long scratch of faded crimson.

"Remus? Remus!"

She moved forward, tripping over her feet in her haste and it was only by mere willpower that she didn't crumple completely into the stream.

Remus was lying half in the stream and half out, unmoving except for the occasional shift of his shoulders to indicate breathing.

"Remus!"

Hope tried to pull him up, but physical strength had never been something that she excelled at.

"Come on, wake up!"

Hope pulled the uninjured shoulder, trying to pull him onto his back before a sudden realization dawned on her.

"Oh, my, Zeus!" She blinked once, then twice. "You're not wearing any clothes," she realized.

Her grip on him slipped, and Remus' face dropped against the ground with a grunt.

"Sorry, sorry!" Hope squeaked, raising her hands, but the man still slumbered on as though he hadn't even taken note of her actions, and Hope breathed a sigh of relief.

"Mindy!" she called as quietly as she could imagine, so as not to awaken him, seeing as he hadn't had much sleep the previous night.

Mindy appeared with a violent crack and Hope hissed like a snake at the noise before hushing the House-elf and beseeching her to take the werewolf back to the manor.

And thus give Hope a chance to save face.

How embarrassing…but it wasn't as though Hope was used to seeing nude bodies (Hope was a very innocent ten-year-old, thank you very much).

So, she stomped back through the glen back towards the manor to throw herself into an almost scalding bath, but at that point, Hope didn't really care.

She hadn't slept all night but she wasn't really tired, though that could be considered over-tired to some.

Her hair was hanging in a wet curtain over the back of her shirt when she dropped by Remus' room, which was the closest to the steps, giving a soft knock and opening the door in time to see Mindy tucking the older man into the bed with a maternal kindness that Hope knew came from caring for her father and his friends when they came to visit.

"How is he?" she asked her quietly, staring raptly at the pallor Remus' face had taken on with eyebrows furrowed together.

"Mister Remus needs his rest," Mindy said simply, patting her hand softly before excusing herself, leaving Hope with the werewolf.

Hope gripped the book she'd brought with her tightly in one hand before pulling the intricately carved chair from the desk to plop it quietly on the floor beside his bed before opening to the first page of her favourite book.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit," Hope began, a slight smile lighting her face as she read the long-familiar words. "Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

"It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats – the hobbit was fond of visitors…"

Remus blinked fuzzily as he finally roused himself, his body aching something fierce, but at least he was sleeping on something softer than rocks, and for that he was grateful.

His vision cleared as he gave another blink and he found that he recognized where he was.

It was the room in Potter Manor that Hope had given him (more accurately, she had simply pushed him up the stairs and coerced him into staying and picking a room from the unoccupied ones). The lights were out and his desk was cluttered with an assortment of books that he had pulled from the Potter library and there was a weight on his hand.

In a chair that she'd clearly pulled from the desk was Hope. She was slumped against the chair, her head resting on one shoulder with The Hobbit open on one knee –just about to fall off, it seemed– and the other holding loosely to his own hand.

Remus recognized the book as a favourite of Lily's, though it probably wasn't her copy, given how much less worn it was.

Hope was breathing in and out deeply, clearly still fast asleep.

For a moment it made Remus smile but then the fear set in.

Last night had been one of his worse nights. The transformation was painful enough, but then he'd caught the scent of a human close by. In the back of his mind he had raged and tried to force the wolf back, but the wolf was always the one in control during the full moon (unless he was on the Wolfsbane Potion, but it had been a long time since he'd been able to afford that). He had known that the only human nearly was Hope and he had fought hard but it was in vain.

He had rushed forward, towards the window she was just beyond before he'd been swiftly rebuffed and Remus had been so relieved even when he realized he'd forgotten that Potter Manor had number of protective wards around it, not just the edge of the Potter lands, but around the manor itself as well.

And Hope had been safe, no matter how many times the wolf lunged for the manor, to break through the glass and savage the human girl that lay beyond.

But here she was, sleeping easily in the presence of a monster, her hair a dark curtain around her, moving ever so slightly from her breaths as she slept on.

Remus sat up slowly in the bed, moving carefully as he removed his hand from Hope's loose grip, expelling a sigh as he leaned back into the pillows.

He hadn't told Hope what he was before his transformation and he could only imagine what had gone through her mind when she'd seen the wolf –him– throwing itself at the window in an effort to reach her.

It had been fun while it lasted, to be the person that looked after James and Lily's daughter, but just because Lily and James had accepted him didn't mean that she would, and Hope had known nothing of werewolves when he had transformed whereas his friends had discovered what he was after so many terrible lies.

Hope stirred faintly, her eyes moving behind closed eyelids, her leg jerking and causing the book to drop to the ground. The sound it made when it hit the floor was more than enough to rouse her completely and solid grey eyes opened.

She looked more like Sirius than James in that instant, more than Remus would care to admit, but Hope was nothing like Sirius, nothing like the traitor they had all trusted in, the traitor that had caused the death of Hope's parents.

The grey orbs fastened on him before filtering back to their usual green.

"You're awake!" she noticed, a small smile curving her lips as she spoke, and then confusion marred her face. "What time is it?"

Remus, who had been expecting a different response upon her awakening, floundered and gaped at her, but Hope wasn't paying any attention to him, focusing instead on the heavy clock at his bedside that read eleven-thirty.

"Lunch time," she muttered, rubbing furiously at her eyes to rid the vestiges of sleep from them, the movement so hard that it gave her brief splotches of red around her eyes from the friction. "Do you want to just lie in bed or do you want to go and sit at the table?"

"I –what?" Remus said, staring at her blankly.

"Food. Lunch. Eat," Hope replied disjointedly in a deadpan. "I assume werewolves do eat, seeing as we ate together before now."

"It…" Remus swallowed convulsively. "It doesn't bother you?"

"Is it supposed to?" Hope asked in honest confusion.

"Well, my kind aren't typically…well received," Remus said a bit stiffly as Hope rolled her shoulders, ridding her body of the kinks she had gained while she'd been asleep.

"Why?"

Hope understood from reading that the transformation was painful, but her honest opinion of them was that they sounded rather cool, barring the whole hunting humans bit, which was a bit terrifying.

"Others believe werewolves are dangerous even when we're in our human forms," Remus admitted sadly. "The Wizarding World is one that discriminates greatly against us, making it nearly impossible to find work and keep it."

The skin over Hope's knuckles drew tight and her teeth gritted at the thought of someone like Remus, who was good and kind, being denied work because of what he was.

"That's not fair," she muttered angrily, "hating on someone for something they can't control…"

Remus gave her a tired grin. "Your mother said much the same."

Green eyes widened slightly. "She did?"

"Oh, yes…Lily hadn't been pleased with the secret I hid, but she understood why I had kept the truth from her and she did not take the prejudice against werewolves very well."

"Of course not," Hope scoffed. "No decent person would…so, lunch?"

And the way she looked at him was rather like James when he and the other Marauders had confronted Remus about being a werewolf, and it was one that said they didn't care a single bit about what he was.

And that made his heart swell with affection.

Hermione had never been invited to a sleepover, or in fact had anyone to sleepover with, but now she had two.

Hope and Daphne were really the most interesting people she had ever met, ones that didn't try to drag her down to their level, because they were already eye to eye, matching her trains of thought without much effort.

Daphne wrote by owl, which was the typical way witches and wizards communicated, Hermione had learned from Hogwarts, A History (which had a whole page dedicated to the school Owlery), and Hope's letters were usually delivered with sharp crack from Mindy.

But they did this thing where one person would write and then it would be sent to the second who would add their own letter to the envelope before sending it onto the third.

It was how Hermione learned that Hope had gained a new housemate ("He's kind of like my minder, but not really," was how Hope had described it), a man named Remus Lupin who had been close friends with her parents.

Hermione's parents seemed a bit more relaxed about the idea of Hermione spending a night or two at Hope's place now that there was an adult to keep an eye on them.

Most of Hope's letters mentioned Remus in one way or another: "Remus and I decided to try our hand at cooking biscuits, even though Mindy told us it wasn't going to end well…it was probably more of Remus' fault than mine that they were scorched; I can actually cook!" or "Remus thinks I'm going about Greek all wrong, but, you know, it's not like he can speak it!" or "I was trying to read up on politics, since Remus thinks I'm too aggressive in the practice essays he's had me write, but politics is harder than it looks!"

Daphne, on the other hand, was more of a mystery, and they had only met for a few hours before they had gone their separate ways, but Hermione had learned much more about her since the three had begun penning letters to each other.

Daphne was the heiress to the Greengrass family, which was remarkably similar to Hope's old family ties. She was the daughter of Atreus and Callista and had a younger sister named Astoria (her whole family was big on Greek and Latin names, she had admitted). Daphne wasn't one who liked to go out to fancy balls like her parents and younger sister. She was the type to hole up in the library for hours on end, studying history old and new and looking for new topics to occupy her time.

And this was why Hope, Hermione, and Daphne all got along so well; they were the studious type, but ones that it didn't take over their personality completely.

So, Hermione was going to bring a few Muggle games and Daphne was going to bring a few wizard ones to play into the night.

And Hermione couldn't remember a time where she'd smiled so brightly.

Mindy's grip on her arm was the only thing she could feel, everything else was a bit harder to describe.

It was like she was being twisted in on herself, limbs, eyeballs, all being forced deeper in and Hermione found it to be very uncomfortable and not something she'd want to try again anytime soon.

"Hey, Hermione!"

Hope's voice was the first thing she heard upon their arrival and then she opened her eyes, swaying on her two feet, her bag on her back feeling as though it was weighed down by lead.

But Hope was smiling brightly with a sprig of lavender tucked into her hair, the same colour as the loose shirt she was wearing with her jeans. She didn't even seem to notice that there was ink smeared on her fingers, or, if she did, she didn't seem to care.

And Hermione hugged her friend tightly.

"Hope!"

"Daphne's probably going to show up in a few minutes," Hope hummed more to herself than to Hermione when they parted, with Hope checking the watch on her arm, but her calculations were a little off when the fireplace flared a bright acid green and disgorged two figures.

Callista Greengrass had been understandably surprising when her eldest daughter told her she'd been invited to tea at Potter Manor, since, as far as she knew, the last of the Potter family had been placed in the care of Muggles (however information concerning the famed Girl-Who-Lived was always a bit scant, so she could have dropped off the earth and no one would know).

She had remembered James Potter well, who had always been a bit of a flirt, even with Professor McGonagall, step by step with Sirius Black. But he was never to be taken seriously, she knew, because she had seen him whenever Lily walked by, she had seen his expression become dazed and slavish. Lily, on the other hand, she had known a bit better, as they had worked together a few times for class projects. She was a kind soul with a good heart and Callista would have never lowered herself to call her the demeaning slander of Mudblood.

Lily's daughter took a great deal after her mother, in complexion and the shape and color of her eyes, but her hair was as dark as James' had ever been. Though James' hair had always been a bit of a mess and Hope's was instead set in loose curls that suited her.

"Miss Potter," Callista said simply. It would have been more formal to call her Heir Potter, but from what she was wearing, it didn't seem as though Hope had much of a care for formality.

"Lady Greengrass," Hope replied with a bit of grace that Mindy had instilled in her. "I'm glad you allowed Daphne to come stay for a night."

A brunette-haired girl was standing a little behind Hope, glancing between Callista and Hope with interest and Callista took her to be Hermione Granger, the Muggle-born girl Daphne had crossed paths with in Diagon Alley.

"Who could resist such an invitation?" Callista asked smoothly, before breaking eye contact with Hope to glance to her daughter, raising a hand to the small of her back.

Daphne had inherited much from her mother just as Hope had from hers. Unlike the Malfoys, who were known for their fair blonde hair, the Greengrasses had hair a rich colour of gold. Daphne shared her mother's blue eyes, light and clear, as well as her delicate features and arching eyebrows.

"Darling, remember your manners," she reminded Daphne. "I'll be along for you afterwards."

"Yes, Mother," Daphne replied diligently.

"Give Remus a hello from me," Callista added towards Hope, who couldn't stop her eyes from widening in surprise.

"You know Remus?"

"We were classmates," Callista said with a smile, "he was very kind when we were younger…he would have made an excellent professor."

She gave Daphne a significant look that Hope and Hermione couldn't have begun to understand before bidding her daughter farewell one last time and stepping into the fire once more.

"Your mum is very…mysterious," Hope decided once the flames had died down once more and the three girls were left in silence.

"She makes a habit of it," Daphne agreed.

"Well, anyways," Hope said, waving a hand, gesturing around the room at large, a wide grin encompassing her face. "Welcome to Potter Manor!"

Daphne knew what it was like to live in a house as large as Potter Manor, though the Greengrass family home was not quite as large as the manor, but Hermione had never had that luxury. Her parents were dentists, not lords with mounds of gold in the bank.

But if there was one thing Hope and Daphne didn't speak of, it was money. Wealth had been a constant presence for Daphne who had grown up as an heiress and Hope had only discovered the fortune her parents had left behind recently.

What Hope and Daphne cared about most was the library and Hermione couldn't fault them there, not after she saw the library in Potter Manor.

It was like every girl's dream (if they were like the three and could read a vast array of topics and never be bored).

Shelves upon shelves of books, thick and thin, some on Pure-blood politics, others on ancient history dating as far back as Ancient Egypt, but all concerning subjects of magic, which was by far the most interesting subject to be concerned with.

"It's beautiful!" Hermione was staring at the stacks with the same wonderment that Hope usually reserved for star-gazing.

Daphne's jaw had dropped open and she was openly gaping at the books. "This is…a lot more than we have at my place," she admitted.

Hope's cheeks pinked slightly. "I think the books have been taken from all over…my grandmother brought some books from the Black family when she married my grandfather…most of the books are from families that are extinct upon the male line, though…"

If one went as far back as the Dark Ages (or simply, the tenth century, depending on which you preferred), they would have found that there were a great deal more old families, far more than the Sacred Twenty-Nine, which excluded families that were not devoutly Pure-blood at the time of the 1930s.

"Remus is out at the moment, so we'll be having dinner by ourselves," Hope added.

"I wish my parents left me on my own," Daphne said with a sigh.

"Remus is just that cool," Hope said with a wide grin. "And he's not technically my guardian, so he can't really tell me what to do."

Hermione giggled, arching an eyebrow in return. "And how many times do you use that excuse?"

"I admit to nothing," Hope replied lightly, buffing her nails on her shirt with apparent interest.

"Oh, of course not," Daphne interjected dryly.

"I tell you he's like my live-in minder, but do you believe me, of course not!" Hope stuck her nose in the air, trying to give off an impression of a pompous nature, but it didn't completely work. "He tutors me now a bit more than Mindy, except for traditions, that's all Mindy's job."

Remus, like Peter and Sirius, had spent a good bit of time at Potter Manor in his youth, but he was also a Half-blood who had never been subjected to the hours upon hours of study that James had been. So, in that subject, he was quite out of his depth; luckily, Mindy was well versed in old traditions.

"Enjoying polite speech?" Daphne asked her, her eyes glowing with repressed mirth as Hope gave her a scowl.

"No, it's irritating and Grandfather was laughing at me the whole time I was practicing it," she complained. "But has he ever learned it? Of course not!"

Hope's flair for the dramatic had not changed, though Hermione suspected she saved it for private settings than public; Hope wasn't all that well-known for making a spectacle, unless it was to insult a few bullies, then she was all for it.

"Are we going to meet your grandfather?" Hermione asked, looking around for any hint of the man Hope had only described a few times.

"No," Hope waved a hand in a careless manner that almost made it knock against Daphne's shoulder. "He's probably off reaping souls and the like."

Daphne and Hermione shared a look of incomprehension that went completely over Hope's head. Honestly, they weren't sure whether or not to take that seriously…but Hope wasn't really known for her ability to lie.

"Come on, I want to show you lot the rest of the manor before Mindy's ready with dinner."

She grabbed their hands and tugged them out of the room without a second glance.

Hermione and Daphne didn't see much of Remus Lupin, but what little they did surprised them, though neither voiced it.

Remus Lupin was a man that was Daphne's parents' age (judging by the familiarity her mother had voiced), but his age showed more on him than it did on Callista. His brown hair was peppered with grey and there were scars on his face not unlike claw-marks.

He had looked a bit pale when Hope introduced them, but he still gave them gentle smiles and pleasantries.

He was probably still sleeping off the effects of the full moon (which Hope knew, but per his wishes, did not inform her friends), so late into the night found Hope, Hermione, and Daphne in their pyjamas, sprawled in the drawing room on plush pillows in front of the fire with books thrown haphazardly around them with a bowl of milk and a platter of biscuits to dip in it as Hope and Hermione tried their hand at wizard's chess with Daphne watching on with a bit of amusement (as they had grown bored eventually of the Muggle games Hermione had brought).

"Do you play any kind of instrument?" Daphne asked, more to Hermione than to Hope, as they had taken to posing each other questions that they didn't know.

"Piano," Hermione said, "not very well, though…pawn to A5."

The red piece –shaped a bit like a gravestone, if you asked Hope– slid forward on the board.

"Favourite magical subject?" Hope offered. "Rook to A5."

The white man on his white chair slid forward only to hop off and grip the chair and whack the red piece in two.

Hermione reeled back with a gasp. "That's barbaric!"

"So cool!" Hope burst into laughter as Daphne swallowed hers with her biscuit. "Oh, come on, Hermione, you can't say that it isn't cool!"

Hermione glowered at her, possibly because chess was something she wasn't very good at, but Hope didn't seem to notice.

"I like Arithmancy," Daphne said, after she'd taken a gulp of water.

"Arithmancy?" Hermione asked, momentarily distracted from the loss of her pawn by Daphne's words. "Doesn't that have to do with numbers?"

Hope groaned. "I hated maths in school!"

"It has to do with more of the magical properties of numbers," Daphne said, nudging Hope's side with her foot. "It's actually really interesting."

"Ancient Runes is far more fascinating," Hope disagreed. "And History of Magic."

"That's just because you're a nut for ancient history," Hermione said with a fond tone of exasperation.

"Who wouldn't be?" Hope countered, eyes glittering in the light of the fire. "I'm going to do something with Ancient Runes when I'm older, just you wait."

"And we'll be the ones most surprised by that choice of career," Daphne told her dryly and Hermione buried her giggles in her pillow as Hope scowled at the blonde.

"Really? Where is the love, I tell you?"

"Not here."

It really was too terrible when two people with as much sarcasm as Hope and Daphne got together.

Hermione was just there to make sure they didn't burn any bridges…and to watch the chaos unfold.

"Either way," Daphne continued with a smirk. "You're not going to be able to take Ancient Runes until third year."

"What?" Hope cried in outrage. "Why?"

"It's an elective," Hermione answered for her (she had read her way through Hogwarts, A History three times now), "electives are taken during third year and on."

"That's…disappointing," Hope uttered finally, her shoulders slumping and her lower lip jutting out just slightly.

"Unless you're planning to skip a few years," Daphne continued, causing both girls to tilt their heads towards her. "What?"

"I would do that just for Ancient Runes," Hope said with absolute certainty before dropping her head into the pillow and muffling a complaint of "Three years!"

"Can we do that?" Hermione appealed to Daphne.

"Do what?"

"Skip," Hermione said simply, smiling at the possibility.

"Probably," Daphne said, "I think there's a limit to how many years, though…there's probably a book on it in the library."

Hope wasn't sure if she was talking about her own library, Hope's, or the one at the school. She settled with it being Hope's.

Then Hope lifted her head and summoned Mindy. "Mindy! I'm going to need a lantern!"

"What exactly are we looking for?" Hermione hissed under her breath, not five minutes later as they entered the dark library.

Potter Manor had the ability to look very eerie at night (Hermione had seen a horror film before and she knew how it ended when little girls were left on their own in creepy manors) and made you want to whisper, even though the only ones currently awake in the manor were the three girls, and it had to be close to midnight by now.

"A book…" Hope said, speaking more to herself than Hermione as she lifted the heavy lantern up to the bookshelf that held books concerning laws in the Wizarding World. "Here it is! Bylaws of Magical Education by Warwick Proflen."

She handed the lantern off to Hermione as she pulled out the thick tome to lug it towards a table.

"This is heavy stuff," Daphne muttered, trailing a finger down the table of contents: "Limitations of Studies, Fraternizations Between Professor and Student, Expulsion Offenses…"

"Supplementary Education," Hermione said suddenly, pointing to the inked words in question beside a small number that was a bit far in the heavy tome.

Hope turned to the page, flipping so fast that a cloud of dust rose up from the parchment, making all three cough profusely before it wafted into the air.

"Alright," Hope wheezed, "here it is…Subarticle: Independent Studies…concerning students who wish to begin their education earlier than the age of eleven that is the starting point for most magical children in the United Kingdom, or, for whatever reason, find themselves unable to attend school whether for medical or personal reasons…students may study with a tutor, independent from the school…if the student wishes to skip grade levels through independent study, they may only do so for two levels."

"Whoa, seriously?" Hermione slid the book more towards her than Hope, trailing a finger down the page as she skimmed much faster than Hope was sure she could possibly read.

"How many years is it at Hogwarts?" Hope asked Daphne above her head.

Unlike the other two, she cared less about the school, and more about the subjects, particularly ones that concerned interpretation of Ancient Runes.

"Seven…or I suppose five, if you wanted to skip two." Daphne gave a half-shrug.

Hope grinned widely, so much so that the flickering flame within lantern cast an odd shadow on her face. "I'm always up for a challenge…besides, I've never really like school; I'll take five over seven any day."

"Me too," Hermione piped up. School had always seemed a bit slow to her and she usually only kept herself from being bored by looking up an array of different kinds of books that she borrowed from the library.

"Shouldn't you three be asleep?" an unfamiliar voice spoke up behind them and all three let out a small scream, twisting violently around and gripping each other's arms.

Hope released a swear that would have grounded Hermione in two seconds flat, glaring at the speaker, half-shrouded in darkness.

"Sweet Tartarus! Do you have to do that?" she demanded furiously. "Some of us are trying to live past ten, you know!"

He was like an alabaster carved statue, the likes of which Hermione was certain she had never seen, with eyes like dark holes in his head and hair an auburn that she had seen Hope sport once.

"I find it helps to keep curiosities on their toes," the man mused with curling lips.

"Is that what we are?" Hope asked, her lips drawing downwards in the corners. "Curiosities?"

"For now," he replied with an arched eyebrow. "Tell me, dearest, do you make a habit of traipsing around in the dead of night?"

"It's my damn house," Hope muttered mutinously. "I do what I want."

"Clearly," he replied dryly.

"This is my grandfather," Hope told the two girls who had watched the way she spoke to the man that neither knew, and they believed him to be her grandfather even less; he was far too young! Not a wrinkle in sight. "Thanatos."

"Like the god of death?" Daphne asked with wide eyes. She knew all too well that the origins of magic were often tied to that of ancient gods and the Greengrass family was one supposedly descended from the goddess Adrestia who balanced good with evil.

"Yes," the god said with smirking lips, "quite like the god of death, you'll find…you must be Daphne Greengrass…and Hermione Granger."

Hermione jumped behind Hope when he said her name.

"How do you know our names?" Daphne inquired defensively.

"That would be telling," he replied slyly, "now, do you mind if I steal away my granddaughter for a few moments?"

He didn't wait for a reply before taking her elbow to guiding her firmly from the room to an area of solitude and silence close to the large doors that led outside.

"The Moirai have had words with me concerning you," Thanatos said and moonlight fell across his face from beyond the window.

"Moirai?" Hope said the Greek word slowly. She understood a bit more Greek now than she did before, but Moirai wasn't a term she was familiar with.

"The Fates," Thanatos explained. "Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos."

"Oh," Hope said, feeling a little stupid. She'd always known them simply as the Fates. "Why?"

"Because we all have events that must occur in our lives," Thanatos told her. "One small change can cause a much larger one."

"Okay…?" Hope didn't quite understand what he was talking about.

"Understand that there are very few completely honest people in this world, Elpis," he said, kneeling down in front of her and Hope jerked at the use of her ancestral name.

"Hermione and Daphne—"

"I am not speaking of your friends," Thanatos interjected. "This is a matter that concerns only you and the ones that seeks to mould you to their means."

His hand was cold on her cheek and Hope's heart was frozen in her chest.

"I don't understand," she whispered. "Why would someone care about what I become?"

Why, indeed? It would be a question that would plague Hope's mind for a very long time, far after when Thanatos left and returned again. And it was these words that formed the foundation of the woman she would become, one who was a chess piece on a very different board than her chess-master had been counting on.

But Hope played by very different rules and his sacrifices were not the same to her.

"I believe it would be someone who has a certain plan set in place, dearest."

He gave her forehead a kiss, like a grandfather would, before promising to visit again and disappearing out of the door, vanishing into shadow.

Hope wondered if he knew how uneasy he left her.

*Chapter 4*: Students of the Werewolf

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Four: Students of the Werewolf

AN: To the reviewer that asked: Dumbledore's not stupid, every choice he makes is because of what he thinks is best, he's an intelligent wizard, but he's also a huge manipulator.

Sunlight was shining through the windows in the drawing room when Remus walked through it the next day and he couldn't help but smile at the scene before the fireplace, now filled with ash, the fire long since put out.

Hermione and Hope were sprawled together with a mass of books surrounding them, limbs splayed and tangled together, making it difficult to see where one girl ended and the other began. Walnut faded into tawny where they crossed.

Daphne was nowhere to be seen, which was curious, since the last he had seen of Callista's daughter, she had been giggling with her friends over of a wizard's chessboard.

"Are they still asleep?"

He must have made an oversight, looking up to see Daphne step into the room fingers wrapped around a cup of tea.

Her sleep clothes were creased and her hair was dishevelled, falling down her shoulders, ripped from the braid it had been in before.

"So it seems," Remus chuckled. "Have you been up long?"

"No," Daphne said before taking a sip of her tea. "But I'm a light sleeper; it doesn't take much to wake me up." Blue eyes flitted towards him. "Mindy left a fresh batch of tea in the pot if you want any."

Some fresh tea was actually a rather good idea, so Remus followed Daphne to the kitchen table, pouring himself a cup and drinking it silently as Daphne sat down beside him, scrutinizing him intently in a manner quite similar to how Hope had when they first met.

It was true he hadn't met Hope's friends for very long the previous night, but he wasn't sure what he had done to warrant such a look.

"Can I help you, Daphne?" he asked, one of his eyebrows rising high on his forehead.

"You are the Remus Lupin that tutored my mother in Charms, aren't you?" Daphne pressed, eyes still narrowed as she rested her chin on her hand from her elbow, something her father would have reprimanded her for if he was here, but he wasn't.

"I am," Remus said, setting his cup down in its saucer, not knowing quite understanding why she was bringing it up. "Why?"

Daphne opened her mouth to speak when the sound of two stumbling bodies interrupted them as Hope and Hermione made their appearance.

One of Hermione's cheeks was pink from rubbing the rug while she'd slept and her bushy curls were knotted and in a tangled mess, Hope's hair, on the other hand, resembled a rat's nest and she was yawning widely.

"Mornin'," Hope said thickly, pulling herself into the chair across from Daphne and Hermione slumped into the one beside her, blinking blearily several times to clear the sleep from her eyes.

"Morning," Remus said with a tone of amusement as the light in the kitchen came on and Mindy set to work on making breakfast for the ones sitting at the table. "Sleep well?"

"Well? Doubtful." Hope rubbed viciously at her eyes. "But we slept a little, didn't we?"

She appealed to Hermione and the brunette took a moment to respond, her friend's words slowly punctuating her brain. "Did we sleep?" she asked, faintly confused. "I can't remember."

Daphne hid her giggles behind her hand as Hope sniggered and Remus released a few short chuckles.

"We got a little sleep," Hope decided. "We're not really sure how much, but we got sleep."

Mindy cleared her throat reproachfully beside her mistress and Hope's shoulders sagged slightly as she corrected her wording. "We slept a little, not much, but we slept."

Mindy nodded approvingly as Hermione laughed.

And then she piled the food onto the table and they were all a bit distracted by its presence, and soon everyone had some eggs and sausage and scones on their plates.

"What exactly were you reading up on last night?" Remus asked Hope after a gulp of hot eggs that blistered his throat but were far too good to complain.

"Oh, we've decided we're going to skip two years," Hope informed him.

"Oh, you are, are you? Why the sudden interest?" Remus was sure James and Sirius could have skipped a year if they cared enough, but they never had.

"Electives aren't until third year," Daphne said as an explanation.

Ah… "Ancient Runes?" Remus guessed, knowing Hope's obsession with the subject (he didn't even know how many books she had on the subject piled in her room and in the library).

"Yup," Hermione said, taking a hasty gulp of pumpkin juice before looking into her glass with fascination (she'd had water the previous night and had never drunk pumpkin juice before). "And Arithmancy…Arithmancy sounds pretty cool."

"Can you tutor us?" Hope prodded his hand with the blunt end of her fork.

Remus paused to look at her fully. It was quite clear how serious she was about the subject; if it wasn't, she wouldn't have spent most of the night doing research.

"You want me to tutor you in first and second year the year before you go to Hogwarts?" Remus asked her, just to clarify.

"Yes," all three girls said.

"But only first and second year," Daphne assured him, "after that we'll be set…you tutored my mother in Charms, she said you would've made a good professor."

Heat rose in Remus' cheeks at the compliment. Callista wasn't well-known for giving them and he hadn't known that she thought that.

"Did she?" he asked, feeling flattered.

"More or less," Daphne replied, lifting one shoulder and dropping it in a careless and half-hearted shrug. "But can you? Tutor us, I mean."

He looked from her to Hermione's eager ones and Hope's that were positively begging him to say yes.

"Please, please, Remus!"

Her big green eyes weren't helping the matter and Remus was sure that if James were still alive, he would be laughing at his daughter's antics.

Remus couldn't help but sigh. "If it's what you want."

And it certainly was.

It was easier for Hope and Daphne, Hermione later lamented, being from old families meant that they didn't attend Muggle school (well, Hope didn't attend anymore, not since she'd run away), but Hermione did and her parents weren't going to pull her out of it before the next year, not even if she was trying to get ahead in her magical studies.

But Hermione was a big girl; she could multi-task.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Her father asked her one night after she finished her English homework and had begun on Remus' first assignment, which was to take notes on the first two chapters of A History of Magic and write a short essay on the changes in magic use from Ancient Egypt to Ancient Greece and Rome (Hermione suspected that Hope was getting a kick out of the second part).

"Yes!" Hermione insisted, stopping just short of grinding her teeth together.

She had lost count just how many times her mother and father tried to convince her to not overwork herself (and she wasn't overworking herself, thank you very much, she had her work under control and was a multi-tasking pro).

Her parents had only agreed to her doing both Muggle and magical studies if she promised not to fall behind in her Muggle studies, which she wasn't going to (Hermione was currently the only one in her class getting A's on almost every assignment).

But learning magic was still going to be hard work, as Remus had explained. Since he was going to be teaching them everything they had to know for year one in a matter of months instead of a whole year like they would have at school, meaning by January they'd be into second year…if they all got their work done at the right time.

The timetable that Remus had drawn up for the three girls was, in a word, hardcore. Every other school night Hermione would go to Potter Manor for a few hours to learn with Hope and Daphne on the practical application of magic, which concerned practicing spells and potion-making and the like.

It was hard to tell which part Hermione was more excited about: written or practical.

"You're not doing this just because your friends are?"

Hermione breathed out through her nose. "I'm doing this because I've finally got friends that understand me! They think like I do and I've never had that."

And Hermione had never felt more at home.

Daphne twisted her quill between her fingers, lack of interest in the quill being quite apparent as she searched the passage she was reading of her Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them for some information on Ashwinders and Fire Crabs.

It was a slow day, so to speak.

She, Hermione, and Hope had been on what Hope referred to as the hyper-schedule, given how much studying they were putting in in such a short amount of time, for about three weeks and they'd actually gotten pretty far (or, at least, they hadn't yet fallen behind).

Hope excelled in Defence Against the Dark Arts and did well in Charms and Transfiguration whilst being moderate in Potions (the problem seemed to be that Hope couldn't focus on a potion and would sometimes forget the steps).

Hermione excelled in History of Magic and Charms while doing moderately well in Transfiguration, but her Potions skills were better than Hope's.

Daphne, on the other hand, was brilliant at Potions, moderate at Charms, and terrible in History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Are you doing homework?"

Daphne looked up from the book to give her younger sister a smile. "Of course, you know me, always working."

Astoria giggled.

Astoria was two years younger than Daphne, but apart from that, she was quite similar in appearance to her older sister and her mother, complete with bright blue eyes and loose golden locks.

Daphne thought Astoria looked more like she was part-fey (something she thought of Hope too, but she'd never admit that to the girl who would probably smirk at her for good measure), she was more of a free-spirited person that Daphne was.

"When can I meet your friends?" the younger witch asked, pouting her lip in a manner that always got their father to do whatever she wanted, but it had yet to work its magic on Daphne.

"When we're not as busy, Stori," Daphne said, looking back to her half-done essay, but Astoria didn't take the dismissal.

Instead she looped her arms around the chair's arms, hanging off of it like a leech, dragging her legs and robes on the ground, something her parents wouldn't appreciate.

"Come on, Daph! I wanna meet your friends! Are they coming to the Winter Gala?"

Daphne grimaced at the mere thought of the gala. Her parents always attended them, and once Daphne and Astoria were old enough to not be too much of a nuisance, they had brought them along. Galas meant fine dresses and heels and standing for hours upon hours.

The old Pureblood families were the ones that attended, anyone from the Malfoys to the Abbotts. But they weren't the only ones to attend, the Minister and Ministry employees often attended.

Still, Hermione would have been a stranger in a sea of people, some of which who scorned her family's blood, but Hope would have fit right in, the daughter of a lord.

But Daphne also couldn't imagine them going to a gala without Hermione.

"Maybe," she said after a moment, and Astoria grinned widely.

Three cauldrons were bubbling over fires in one of the spare rooms in Potter Manor.

It was one of the larger rooms that had been cleared out to be made into a Potion's Lab of sorts. There was a table made for holding cauldrons and cupboards full of potion ingredients lining the walls, potion bottles –full and empty– , and various supplies for making potions.

It was a Friday, which were the girls' favourite days because they could spend most of their time together and get more work done on practical and written work…unfortunately it was also the day that Remus liked to give them exams.

Exams, unsurprisingly, were frequent and usually encompassed about four chapters worth of information for History of Magic and about two for all other subjects.

"The only way you're going to get this done is if you do it while it's still on your mind," Remus had told them the first time around. "The tests will be heavy…but the final exam matters more than the individual tests; the only way you're going to get to start second year in January is if you pass the final exam in December."

"Are you writing the exam?" Hermione had scrutinized the man intently, sucking on the end of her quill thoughtfully.

"Yes," Remus had said with a smile. "And the only way you are going to pass it is if you pay attention to everything I'm teaching and keep it fresh in your mind."

But the hours they spent in Potions was always the worst.

Hope was sure that once she got the hang of Potion-making, she'd like it better, but she had yet to actually do that…so she was still having problems while Daphne and Hermione were doing fairly well; it was making her feel dumber than she'd ever felt before.

Boil Cure.

That was what the Potions test was on today…and it involved recalling the ingredients and instructions in making the Boil Cure.

Hope was going to make her brain melt out through her ears with how hard she was trying to remember the words on the page she'd studied the previous night.

Six snake fangs had been crushed in her mortar, but how many measurements was she supposed to drop in the cauldron?

She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking as hard as she could manage. Four…yes, it was four.

Daphne glanced at her over her own cauldron when she released a sigh of relief, but Hope didn't seem to notice, scooping four measurements of the crushed snake fangs into the cauldron before giving the cauldron two clockwise stirs.

Then she drew the cutting board towards her with her silver knife and began to diligently slice the Pungous Onions which smelled something awful when she shook them out of the container, donning a pair of dragon-hide gloves rather than touching the onions with her hands –which was ill-advised, according to the potion's book.

Hope winced her eyes at the terrible smell before she stirred the sliced onions in, adding a few dried nettles and giving it three counter-clockwise stirs and starting the timer for thirty minutes.

"Ready for the Charms exam?" Hermione asked over her own potion.

Remus was marking them from the corner of the room, not commenting, but he didn't care if they talked, as long as they didn't talk about the potion.

"I think we should ask if you're ready," Daphne smirked. "What with Muggle school that you still go to."

Hermione sighed audibly. "You know the only reason Mum and Dad are letting me do this is because I'm doing school too."

"Are they a fan of overwork?"

Hope grinned as Hermione glared.

"My sister wants to meet you two," Daphne added.

"I'm sure that'll end well," Hope sniggered. "Imagine Daphne in miniature, that kind of chaos contained in a smaller form is worrying."

"Ha-ha," Daphne said while a smile crept onto Remus' face that the girls missed. "Very funny. She wanted to know if I was bringing you two to the Winter Gala."

"Winter Gala?" Hermione asked, but Hope didn't need to bother.

She'd learned a few things from Mindy, more than a few things actually, and she knew it was an old tradition to attend the Gala.

It was a Ministry-sponsored event, but that in no way hid the fact that the majority of the people that attended were Purebloods or in their pockets, but not all Pureblood families were bad, in fact, a good number of them were good and some were grey. But it was the bad ones that made Hope uneasy.

"Every year on the solstice," Daphne confirmed. "Ministry event…lots of old families are there, like mine."

"A lot of kissing up," Hope muttered under her breath, watching the timer with more interest than necessary and Remus glanced towards her briefly.

"That too," Daphne couldn't deny. "Mother and Father take me with them, but it's always a bore and Draco Malfoy is particularly insufferable…" Daphne gave a distinct shudder at the mention of the Malfoy Scion. The arrogance was enough to make anyone throw up a little in their mouth.

Luckily for them, their timers dinged and they didn't have the opportunity to finish the conversation in the stead of adding horned slugs and porcupine quills to their concoctions and stepping aside for Remus to review their results.

Daphne, of course, passed with flying colours, while Hermione earned an E+, it was nearly an O, but she'd made a small mistake with the heating (Hermione didn't seem too concerned about the near miss, though she did know what to do differently next time), and then he looked over Hope's potion and Hope held her breath.

Last time she'd gotten a P for Poor which was almost a passing grade, but still failing.

"Looks like you got an A this time," Remus told her with a small smile and Hope's face positively lit up.

"Really?"

"Really," he promised, laughing as she clapped her hands together in excitement, bobbing in place.

The flames flickered in the fireplace while Hope sat with a thick afghan thrown over her legs as she rested beside Remus, tucked against his side.

"Do you think Mum and Dad would be proud of me?" she asked him, her fingers curving over the spindly-carved words on the surface of the book in her arms.

Remus gave her shoulders a sharp squeeze. "Of course they would," he assured her. "Your parents were proud of you when you were a baby and they'd be proud of how far you've come…they never attempted to skip two years in one go, I think they'd be very impressed."

Hope smiled at that, a smile that softened her eyes to the same hazel as her father's.

"But your father had a tendency to put his work off to the last minute," Remus mused, "and somehow still get great marks; it irritated your mother to no end."

She released a short laugh at those words.

They were halfway into October now, which meant they were pretty far in their Year One studies, which were due to finish on December 18. Hermione was somehow managing to stay on top of Muggle and Magical studies with what seemed to be very little effort, but Hope doubted it was all it appeared to be.

She had been pulling up her Potion's grade, slowly but surely, and Remus was a strict and hard task manager.

They all made half-hearted complaints behind his back but none of them really meant it…as he well knew (it was ridiculous how well he could hear).

But Hope wasn't too concerned about her grades, she was keeping up in her studies and passing (well, passing now in Potions) them…it was something else entirely that was capturing her thoughts, and that was the approaching Halloween, the day her parents had been killed.

"Can you…" She swallowed, her throat going dry. "Can you tell me about that night?"

She felt more than saw his shoulders sag at the question and she had always known the loss of his friends had wounded him deep in his soul, because sometimes she'd catch him looking at her with that melancholic expression, like when she'd worn her hair in a dark red colour instead of the usual black.

For a moment he did not speak, instead choosing to gather his thoughts.

"I suppose I should start a bit before that night," Remus said and Hope glanced up to meet his eyes. "What do you know about a wizard named…Voldemort?"

If he had been in the presence of anyone other than her, in the presence those who had grown up fearing the name, the name would have inspired a bit more of fear than the expression she was currently wearing.

"He was a Dark wizard, wasn't he?" she asked. "He killed a lot of people in the war, including Mum and Dad."

"Yes," he said, and if Hope noticed how his voice trembled, she didn't mention it, "he did. Those were much darker times…Voldemort was a wizard that went dark, as dark as you could possibly go. And he killed anyone who got in his way, the Bones', the McKinnons, the Prewetts…your parents…"

The fire cast a flickering shadow across Remus' face, a shadow that seemed to sink into the scars on his skin.

"More than twenty years ago he started gathering followers, some who joined him were afraid of what he would do to them if they didn't, others thought that his beliefs were the only right and they wanted a bit of the power that he possessed, because Voldemort was a very powerful individual back then."

His voice had darkened and Hope couldn't stop the shiver that descended down her spine.

"Back then it was hard to know who to trust, especially with people dying and others disappearing…friends could become enemies in an instant."

His grip on her shoulder tightened and Hope tried not to wince.

"Didn't anyone try to stop him?" Hope asked, curling her legs up to her chest. "The Ministry or anything?"

"Some attempted," Remus conceded, "but the ones that stood up to him were often found dead not a day later…the fear is what kept most people quiet, I think; fear of what he'd do if he found out they were going against him. By that time, the only safe place was Hogwarts."

"Why?" Hope asked, her eyebrows drawing together in her confusion.

"Well, there was only one person that Voldemort was truly afraid of, and that was Albus Dumbledore—"

Hope scowled at the mention of the meddlesome Headmaster of Hogwarts that had dropped her at the Dursleys without so much as a thought.

"He wasn't about to take Hogwarts, not with Dumbledore there," Remus told her, not missing the look she had made at the mention of the aged wizard. "But your mum and dad weren't afraid to fight against him, and they weren't the only ones…but something changed."

"What changed?" Hope tugged on his robes, enraptured by the morbid tale.

"I don't know," Remus said with a sombre note. "I know that one night Lily was playing Gobstones with me waiting for James and…Sirius to come back from patrol, and the next they had gone into hiding. Lily was pregnant with you at the time and she couldn't fight with James as she had before… But lots of witches and wizards were going into hiding at that time. Only one person knew where they were, and that was their Secret-Keeper, Sirius Black."

There was that name again…Sirius Black, Hope's imprisoned godfather. Hope knew next to nothing about him, other than the fact that he was best mates with her own father, she didn't even know what he had done to end up in the magical prison, Azkaban.

"The war was still going on when you were born—"

"Were you there?" Hope asked him curiously.

"No," Remus chuckled softly, "but James and Sirius were…and your father brought you over for us all to see, Peter and I, and everyone else fighting against Voldemort, everyone found you adorable when you kept changing the colour of your hair and eyes."

Hope's cheeks flooded with colour.

"But that was the only time I saw you before when we first met," Remus told her. "Your parents weren't willing to risk your safety to go against Voldemort."

"So, what went wrong? Why did my parents even need to be in hiding?"

Remus' fingers knotted into his greying hair briefly. "There was something that Dumbledore told them that made them fear for your safety…to this day I still don't know what it was, and by that time distrust had turned towards me."

Hope's eyes flashed amber in the light.

"Werewolves have always had a deep prejudice shown towards them," Remus said matter-of-factly, though Hope could plainly see how his jaw tightened. "Sirius had begun to suspect that I was a traitor given how many werewolves were fighting for Voldemort instead of Dumbledore…your parents chose to cast a Fidelius Charm as the most powerful means to keep you, and them, safe, and chose Sirius as their Secret-Keeper."

"Fidelius Charm? Secret-Keeper?" These words meant nothing to Hope.

Remus tugged on the end of Hope's loose braid with a fond smile before explaining. "The Fidelius Charm is a powerful spell that allows a secret to be kept inside of a single soul, the secret, in this case, was your parents' home in Godric's Hollow. And the only way for the secret to be discovered is if the Secret-Keeper revealed the secret themselves."

Hope chewed aggressively on the inside on her cheek. "You're saying that Sirius Black gave them up?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying," Remus said, a harsh note in his voice being clearly detected. "Voldemort found out where you lived and he came after you and your parents…a-and when he tried to kill you, something went wrong."

He was blinking furiously and Hope brought one hand up to the one that was looped around her shoulders.

"No one really knows what happened after he entered the house," he admitted once he'd collected himself. "He killed your parents and then he tried to kill you, but for some reason he couldn't…that's why you've got a scar on your forehead."

Hope raised a hand to trace over the lightning-bolt scar that had been etched into her skin for as long as she could recall, like the floral design on her shoulder, the one that seemed a bit like watercolours on skin, of roses and lavender.

She could barely remember anything about that time, she was very young. But she still had nightmares dominated by a flash of green light and a high-pitched laugh.

"It's from powerful Dark Magic…but for some reason the curse didn't work on you, that's why everyone in the Wizarding World knows your name."

"Everyone what?" Hope was positively gaping at him now. She had thought it was strange when Daphne knew her by her name alone when they first met, but she hadn't expected to consider that to be normal.

She thought "Girl-Who-Lived" was more of a joke, but clearly she couldn't have been more wrong.

Hope found herself quite beyond words.

The first time Remus Lupin met the god Thanatos was at Potter Manor's main doors.

The rap of knuckles on the door was clear, even for Remus to hear in the library (where he was currently going over the girls' most recent essays.

He had been on his way to grab a spare quill and some more ink from his room when he'd caught sight of Mindy opening the door to an unknown figure.

"Lord Thanatos," she squeaked before giving a short curtsy, permitting him inside. "Mistress is practicing in the ballroom."

"I'll try not to interrupt her until she's done," came the musical reply as he stepped into the light of the foyer.

He was just as Hope had said, beautiful, and there hardly seemed to be any other way to describe him. Hope's hair was the same colour as this man's today, though much longer and done up in an intricate bun that was clearly the work of Mindy and the light above cast highlights of gold and red through the man's hair. But nothing could possibly compare to the solid black eyes, if they could be considered eyes and not holes.

The fluid way he spoke was something that Hope was attempting to replicate with her 'polite speech', as she called it, and that and the way in which he walked was faintly aristocratic.

Dark eyes fell to him and for a moment he didn't speak, merely observing Remus with apparent fascination.

"You are Remus Lupin," he said, shrugging off a sweeping cloak for Mindy to hang in the closet. "My granddaughter has spoken fondly of you."

"You're Thanatos?" Remus guessed even as he took the man's strong grip.

"That is correct." Thanatos' lips curled upwards slightly. "And you are the werewolf son of Lyall and Hope Lupin."

Remus' heart stuttered in his chest at the admission and his hand tightened to a fist at his side. "How do you—"

"I know everything," Thanatos said in a way that wasn't meant to be construed as arrogant but neither was it humble. "I know each death and life of the mortal race…it's all recorded in my book."

He waved a hand and suddenly he was holding a thick tome in his hand that bore no title and seemed to be blackened by fire of some sort.

"I offered my granddaughter a glance within once," he mused before vanishing the book as though it had never been there to start with. "Wisely, she elected not to."

Remus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Was that a test?"

His smirk widened. "Indeed, it was…in the ballroom, was she? I'll follow the music."

Remus was still looking at his oddly when he began to make his way towards the room in question and after a moment of deliberation, Remus hastily followed after him.

The music trailing out of the ballroom wasn't perfect, not by far, but Hope had been diligently practicing every day, when she wasn't studying or learning from Remus, that is.

Notes flowed through the air, echoing off the ballroom's walls and through the wide doors that led into the rest of the house, low and smooth…melancholic. Every so often the notes would stutter or come out completely wrong before starting up once more.

She was standing in the middle of the room with her back to them, the violin resting under her chin as she drew the bow across the strings.

The curtains over the windows were drawn back to allow sunlight to filter in through the glass, so that crisp leaves blowing in the autumn wind could be seen.

To go with the bright colours of autumn, Hope had donned a soft yellow dress and Mindy had forced her into a pair of short heels before sending her off to practice, citing the reason that she needed to get used to wearing heels. She was only allowed to take them off once she was finished (and Remus had watched Mindy give her mistress a very stern expression that had only made her groan with exasperation and annoyance).

The music came to a stop after a bridging crescendo and then Hope removed the violin from its position at her neck, breathing in and out deeply as though the act of practicing was enough to leave her breathless.

She knelt to lock the instrument back in its case when the sound of clapping jerked her head around so that she could see the one clapping.

"Grandfather!"

There was a definite spark in her eyes when she caught sight of Thanatos before she speeded towards him –a bit clumsily in the heels she wasn't used to– to throw her arms around his neck, still grinning widely as he wrapped his arms around her back.

"Did you reap any souls for me?" Hope asked once they parted, which was a strange question to ask, Remus thought privately to himself, but it brought a small laugh from Thanatos' lips.

"Only always," he chuckled, cupping her cheek with an alabaster hand that was several shades off from Hope's own olive. "I've met your minder…it seems he'll do nicely."

Hope's smile fell into a frown. "You're just saying that 'cause you'd like someone to keep an eye on me." She crossed her arms for good measure.

"Perhaps," Thanatos smirked, leaning back from the bent position he had been in in order to be level with Hope to glance towards Remus. "Look after my granddaughter," he told him, halfway caught between a request and a demand.

"I do try," Remus said, slightly exasperated and Hope didn't bother to hide her amusement.

"At least Remus isn't cryptic like you are!" she elbowed the god harshly, but he didn't so much as blink.

"One day, dearest, you will learn why some people are cryptic such as I," he said with a bit of flair that reminded Remus of Sirius.

And Hope muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "Drama Queen."

"I heard that."

Hope ignored him.

The lamp by Hope's bedside was lit and Hope should have probably been asleep, but it wasn't that late and she had barely just finished her school work and wanted to read something else before bed.

Which was why she was holding her many times great-grandfather, Salazar Slytherin's book in her hands, the parchment yellowed with age and bearing a serpent embossed on the leather.

The way he wrote was a bit strange to her, categorized by subject rather than date, though there were dates, they seemed to be a bit over the place.

There was one entry under: Travel

It began as an idea and slowly grew into something so much more. Broomstick travel is so tedious even to those of us that are in still in our youth. Morea, my love, prefers travel over earth than by air, as it is. Thus Flashing was born.

Flashing is a name for a new magick I have created which will be used in order to move from one place to another instantaneously. The act of moving from one destination to another will be so fast that it seems as though a flash of light has appeared."

Morea fears I am spending too much time in my study working on this magic, however I believe it is well worth the effort, else I would not risk the wrath of my lovely wife. It, like many magicks is controlled by mere thought. To wish is to be. I can only hope I succeed when I test my theory on the morrow. It would be a shame for my wife to be told her foolish husband twisted himself into nothing before our first anniversary.

I suspect it will not go entirely to plan, but for progress to be made there must be sacrifices, I am certain Morea can understand that desire I have.

If the need arises, I shall bring with me my most faithful companion, the one who has guarded my love and I, the knight lycanthrope Sir Michael Richmond. Perhaps then Morea will relent…if not, then I shall at least have one to keep company with…

A lycanthrope knight? Hope hadn't heard of such a thing. From how Salazar described him, it was difficult to tell if he was Muggle or Magical, and if he was Muggle, that would be very impressive indeed, after all, Muggles weren't known to survive the process of lycanthropy.

Salazar sounded a bit like a mad scientist, if you asked Hope, coming up with magicks and then testing them out himself…all the while doting on his wife and trying to keep her as uninformed as possible.

That bit was probably what Hope found to be the most hilarious.

And so she continued to read with a small smile on her face, imagining herself in his shoes, inventing magical spells and enchantments.

"Tell me the movement for the Levitation Charm and the incantation."

Daphne, Hermione, and Hope were in the ballroom. They were technically finished for the day but had opted to stay two more hours in order to review for their final exam, though it wasn't for almost a month and a half.

But Hope and Daphne were also trying to teach Hermione some Pure-blood etiquette for the Winter Gala which Hermione's parents –after much badgering– had agreed to, pending an introduction to the adults that would be watching their child for the evening, which were Callista and Atreus Greengrass.

Atreus had been quite busy at the Ministry, but Callista had gone to pay Hermione's parents a short visit to assuage their fears of leaving Hermione with someone they didn't know.

Hermione was standing with her back straight and balancing a book on her head with difficulty, which looked difficult until you got used to it.

"Swish and flick," Hermione recited clearly, taking one step and then another, trying to keep the book on her head as she did so. "And Wingardium Leviosa."

"I don't think you're going to have any trouble with Charms, Hermione," Daphne commented, going over the parts of the study reference they'd been working on.

"Well, that's one out of seven," Hermione said, though it was clear she wasn't despondent at those odds (they had, after all, only gone through one of seven subjects).

"Hm…Hope…tell me about the Switching Spell."

Hope removed the book from Hermione's head, hefting it easily in her arms as Hermione went to join Daphne, lounging on the ground.

"It's a spell used to exchange two objects, such as a bottle and an apple…but it's also a fourth-year spell."

"If it's a fourth-year spell, then why did Remus tell us about it?" Hermione piped up, dropping to rest her back against the floor only to curl inward with a muffled complaint once Daphne jabbed her in the stomach.

"I think it was more of an example of transfiguration, I think," Daphne mentioned, flipping through her notes, searching for where it had been mentioned. "You know I half want to give up on this, it's so much work!"

At that Hermione sat straight up, almost comically fast, lips ajar and eyes wide. "Daphne, you can't do that! Look how far we've come! We'll be done with first year in a matter of weeks and then we'll get two weeks off before we start the next year!"

Daphne was mildly startled by Hermione's enthusiasm, but Hope couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, Daphne, don't give up on us," Hope urged. "You don't want to leave us to do this all by ourselves, do you?"

The vexed expression that morphed onto Daphne's face was enough to make Hope's hair turn strawberry-blonde, which didn't do much to help her mood, if the glare thrown her way was any indication.

"I suppose not," Daphne conceded, pulling study reference towards her once more. "Alright, then: Describe why you might need to know how to change a match into a needle?"

"A match has a different composition than a needle, the transfiguration is meant to prepare us for altering the composition of more vastly different materials," Hope said, closing her eyes to remember her familiar scrawl across page of page of notes.

And their reviewing session continued on that vein for quite some time, and by then they'd passed the time when Hermione was supposed to return home, via Mindy, so the brunette witch had to rush off and collect her school work where she'd dropped it in the library.

"Mental, that one," Daphne decided, shaking her head as she watched their friend hurry away.

"Aren't we all?" Hope asked fondly, as Daphne shoved her own work –which had been cluttered around her as opposed to all over the place. "Well, the best of us," she conceded.

"Whatever you say, Potter."

"You know it, Greengrass," Hope smirked as the Greengrass heir straightened up, resting her bag on her shoulder as she did so, and they moved towards the entrance to the ballroom, taking the corridor back to the drawing room. "When are we going to meet the little sister you've told us all about? Do we have to wait until December?"

"Hopefully not," Daphne said with a bit of exasperation as Hermione shuffled forward to join them. "Stori wants to meet you two, but it's more of a matter of not being busy…and we're all really busy."

"You're not wrong," Hermione agreed thoughtfully before brightening. "What about Halloween? Remus gave us that day off."

Hope gained a pained expression at the question that made Hermione's eyebrows crease in confusion. "What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong with Halloween?"

"My parents were killed on Halloween," Hope said quietly and Hermione gave a horrified gasp –she had known about Hope's parents being dead, of course, but she hadn't known when the murder had occurred– while Daphne looked on sombrely, already being well aware of what the date meant to Hope.

While so many witches and wizards celebrated the day Voldemort had been killed, Hope mourned the day she had lost everything, her parents and the love they had given her. It seemed almost cruel to celebrate with that knowledge.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Hope—!"

"Its fine," Hope said, waving a careless hand. "Remus and I are going to go and visit their graves, that's why we're taking the day off."

"Oh," Hermione said a bit meekly.

Hope forced a smile onto her face quickly. "Don't worry about it, Hermione, you just enjoy your day off, alright?"

Hermione glanced between Hope and Daphne before muttering an affirmative before taking the hand that Mindy offered to take her home.

"You'll be alright, won't you?" Daphne asked her, capitalizing on Hermione's absence.

"This is me, we're talking about," Hope felt the need to point out. "Of course I'll be fine."

But whether she got a good night's rest was something else entirely.

The Granger home was always decorated for Halloween, even given the ironic feeling there was as of late; the idea that many children chose to dress up as creatures that were already in existence, such as witches and vampires and mermaids.

The candy variety wasn't much to speak of, owing to the fact that Hermione's parents were dentists so all the candy they handed out was sugar free, but it all tasted well enough that no one could really complain.

"What are Hope and Daphne doing for Halloween?" Mrs. Granger asked her daughter as they set to work on carving a pumpkin.

They'd plastered the kitchen floor under the pumpkin with old newspaper as Hermione's mother cut into the pumpkin with a careful knife.

"Daphne's family does a small feast for Halloween," Hermione told her, "her younger sister was really excited about it, apparently." She giggled when she recalled how Daphne had rolled her eyes for good measure.

"The girl can't get enough of her sweets," Daphne had said, but it was hard to tell if she was talking about her sister or herself, because Daphne had a bit of a sweet tooth as well.

"And Hope?"

Hermione's mother had a fondness for both of Hermione's friends, but she felt just a bit more towards Hope for being Hermione's first friend. And, Hermione supposed, her mother felt Hope needed a bit more mothering than Daphne did, given her former home situation and current one which lacked a –for the most part– motherly influence. Mindy was nice and very kind but she wasn't the same.

"Hope doesn't celebrate Halloween," Hermione told her mother carefully as she helped her pull out the pumpkin's insides onto the spare newspaper beside them, but some of it still slipped through her fingers.

"Really?" Mrs. Granger's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "She seems the type to celebrate it."

Autumn was Hope's favourite time of the year, that much was true, and there were carved pumpkins sitting on the doorsteps of Potter Manor (to be seen by no one, but that wasn't the point).

"Her parents were killed on Halloween, Mum," Hermione said as delicately as she could.

"Oh, dear!" Mrs. Granger looked very regretful, pausing in cutting out triangular-shaped holes in the pumpkin for eyes. "How terrible!"

"She and Remus are going to visit her parents' graves today," Hermione added, just as delicately before. "I invited her to come over, but I think she'd rather be in a graveyard today."

"Of course she would," Hermione's mother said with a great deal of understanding. Her own mother and father had been killed in a car accident before Hermione was born and she still went to visit them on the anniversary of their death.

It would have been harder for Hope, though, not having as many memories of her mother, if any at all.

"Go put this up on the ledge outside, would you, dear?"

Hermione complied.

Hope's eyes fluttered open once Remus had finished Apparating them to the town of Godric's Hollow and it wasn't what she'd been expecting.

It was a village that held both Muggle and Magical families, which was very rare (according to one of the books she'd read on magical establishments), but they'd apparently come out in the Muggle section, as there were already children dashing around in various costumes and with bulging bags of candy.

A little girl in a witch's outfit waved at Hope. "Nice costume!" she called and Hope gave her a small smile in return.

In truth, it was mostly a coincidence.

Hermione had gotten her these green and purple tights as a late gift for her birthday once she'd found out about being a witch. Mindy had forced the dark purple witch's hat on her before she'd let Hope out the door ("It is windy, Mistress!").

"It's a bit of a walk," Remus admitted sheepishly as Hope took his arm when it was offered to her.

"That's alright," Hope said, looking around with interest as they meandered around the various children running to and fro, dressed as superheroes and creatures of the dark and princesses.

Hope had never done so when she was younger and had always watched Dudley and the neighbourhood children with jealousy, but now she did not. Ironically, the only thing Hope had ever considered dressing up as was a witch, and now Hope had no need to be anyone else.

"Did you ever do anything for Halloween?" she asked Remus as they walked on. "When you were younger, I mean."

"Halloween was all about wearing a mask and becoming someone else for a night…but I already did that once a month," he gave her a wry smile as she tightened her hand on his arm just slightly. "I never truly felt the inclination, though my mother and I spent the night baking as much sweets as we desired."

Hope's eyes fell to the cobbled stone under her feet before she brightened, looking up to him. "We should do that when we get back."

He gave her a soft smile that he reserved for his pseudo-niece alone, squeezing her hand where it was on his arm. "You want to?"

"Yeah," Hope bobbed her head in agreement, still smiling. "If we can convince Mindy to leave us alone in the kitchen after last time."

Remus released a small laugh, remembering the day in question. Mindy had practically thrown them out and grounded them ("I'm a grown man," Remus had pointed out, but the House-elf still swatted him. "You is grounded!" she insisted) from the kitchen for several weeks.

The crescent moon was high up in the sky and clear to be seen, stars twinkling on either side. The view of the sky really was quite lovely, but it was not nearly as good as the view from Potter Manor.

They took a turn down a road that the Muggles blew by completely, missing it as though it wasn't there at all, which was an appropriate assumption.

The road was lined with cottages, but it was much quieter than the Muggle portion of the village, some had lights on, others were dark, their occupants already in bed and asleep.

Remus and Hope were the only ones out as they passed under golden streetlights, casting eerie shadows in the night.

"We're going to pass by where you and your parents used to live," Remus told her after a moment and Hope looked up sharply. "We don't have to stop if you don't want to."

"No," she said quickly, the light reflecting in her eyes, "I want to see it."

Remus a short nod and swallowed thickly as they moved forward with the cool air blowing around them, crisp leaves dancing past them in the wind, rustling as they skittered across the ground.

Hope wasn't sure what exactly they were looking for, but she knew it when she saw it.

The cottage that her parents had hid in with her was ruined by age, spell-damage and fire. It was small and modest, what was left it, at least, but there had only been three of them living there at the time. The shrubs and flowers that were overflowing over the gate were crisp and no longer the green they should have been, left unattended for over nine years. The most ruin was evident by the gaping hole at where Hope's room must have been which was where the spell had backfired.

It was strange to be so close to the place where it all had started, where her parents had been killed, where she'd gotten her scar, and where she had been taken from forcibly by Dumbledore's commands.

Hope hardly seemed to notice Remus beside her as she removed her hand from his arm to lift them to the gate, the metal cool against her hands and then she recoiled suddenly as a wooden sign rose out of the earth bearing the legend in golden letters:

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their daughter, Hope, remains the only witch ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.

Hope read the words silently with wide eyes before realizing there were other words on the sign, clearly added by other witches and wizards who had visited the ruined home.

Good luck, Hope, wherever you are.

If you read this, Hope, we're all behind you!

Long live Hope Potter.

Hope chewed aggressively on the inside of her mouth as she read the words, blinking a few times for good measure.

"Do you want to go in?" Remus asked her quietly.

Hastily, Hope shook her head, tugging on his arm with her hand. "I want to see them," she said softly instead and Remus nodded in understanding.

And he took her to a different path, through a kissing gate, and into the silent graveyard. Remus navigated the tombstones with ease, and it was clear that her had come to visit James and Lily Potter many times.

The tombstone they came to a stop before was made of white marble that made it easy to see, even in the darkness.

JAMES POTTER LILY POTTER

BORN 27 MARCH 1960 BORN 30 JANUARY 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

Hope knelt into the ground, not caring if she stained her knees, brushing off the leaves and anything else that had been left on the tombstone, perhaps by the passing breeze.

Remus gave her a bouquet of lilies and lavender to place before the tomb, one that he had clearly formed out of thin air, but that didn't matter. Hope took them gratefully and placed them in the ground with trembling fingers before choosing to trace the same fingers over her parents' names.

Her sight blurred as tears welled in her eyes before spilling over completely, trailing down her cheeks, seeming to be endless in that moment.

Charlus Potter's study had not been touched since his untimely death, but it was Hope's study now.

She took a thick key from the ring that held the master-keys to the Manor, which only Hope possessed, and slid it into the keyhole of the door that had clearly been decorated in the mind of the House that its owner belonged to, Gryffindor.

The door swung open with a bit of difficulty, clearly from disuse and then Hope found herself in a darkened room with curtains drawn over the windows.

She lifted her wand and muttered a "Lumos!" causing a bright light to erupt from the wand's tip, illuminating the room enough for Hope to turn on the lamp on the desk, which cast a soft orange glow over the room.

There was a lot of dust that needed to be cleared and there was a pile of unopened mail sitting on the grand desk.

Hope moved forward to pull back the curtains and permit sunlight to flood in, painting a patch of light onto the carpet and then she strode towards the high-backed leather chair that sat behind the desk.

It had clearly been made to seat a man and not a girl, but that hardly mattered now.

The Lord of the Potter Family was now a Lady.

Hope sat down and she felt as she had sitting opposite Ragnok months previously in a chair that threatened to drown her.

The desk was very tall and she was small, so it didn't really help matters, but Hope was sure that she'd grow a bit so that it wasn't so obvious before she could claim her ladyship, at the age of fifteen.

But for now Hope just slumped back against the leather, which was neither warm nor cold, expelling a loud sigh as she did so.

Daphne and Hermione were going to be coming by later for practical lessons in Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Hope still had time before they showed up.

She picked up the mail resting on the table, noticing how they left a shadow behind in the dust, showing just how much had accumulated over time since the envelopes had first been placed there.

It seemed to be outgoing mail, judging by the wax seal on the envelopes and Hope felt incredibly awkward about opening them.

On one hand, her grandfather was dead, so he couldn't possibly mind her reading his mail, but on the other hand…it was his mail.

After a moment of deliberation, Hope broke the seal on the first envelope and pulled the parchment within free.

It had been addressed to the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot concerning a bill that apparently Charlus had not been able to vote on (Wasn't that an absentee ballot? Hope didn't know much about politics or voting).

The letter was smooth and direct, stating his thoughts while still not coming off as overly aggressive. The bill appeared to be one he was firmly against, concerning the favouritism that was shown towards not just Purebloods but specific Purebloods, such as ones with pro-Light leanings.

Dark, Light, and Grey are three radically different views, I will concede, Charlus had written, however, we should not be predisposed to certain views despite our current situation. Prejudice towards certain families can lead to an assortment of difficulties at a later date—

Hope jerked up at the sound of Hermione and Daphne's voices blurring together and she dropped the letter to hasten to meet them.

Mindy had dropped off Hope and Hermione and then disappeared, leaving the two girls to wait in the parlour while the Greengrass family House-elves informed their master of their presence.

The Greengrass Manor might not have been as grand as Potter Manor, but it had an ageless class to it that Hope's home could not have dreamt of replicating.

While Potter Manor was full of a multitude of rich colours, Greengrass Manor was much lighter with soft creams and faint golds strewn throughout.

Hermione fiddled with her robes before Hope smacked her hands away.

"Stop fussing, you look fine."

"Says you," Hermione muttered. "Why couldn't we have come in our normal clothes?"

"Because," Hope said with grating patience, as she had gone over the subject several times already with Hermione, as had Mindy (ever in charge of etiquette that she was), "we are guests in Lord Greengrass' home and we should be respectful of his traditional views."

"No matter how old-fashioned they are?" Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow for good measure and she earned a small smirk in return.

Hope, per Mindy's suggestion, was wearing lavender-coloured robes with long sweeping sleeves, while Hermione wore borrowed periwinkle blue robes from her friend, though they fit rather well, so it wasn't easy to notice.

And the robes, while being of quality-make, were quite casual, which was what this meeting was.

The sound of rushing footsteps jarred them out of their thoughts in time to see a slim golden-haired girl jump down the steps of the staircase, taking them two at a time until she skidded across the floor in her flats, twisting around in a way that seemed to contort her spine as she searched for someone.

A call on the second floor came sharply in a reprimand. "Astoria Danaë! Slow down!"

Astoria ignored the voice when she saw the pair, rushing towards them instead.

Hope and Hermione took a step back so as not to be bowled over by Daphne's exuberant younger sister.

"Hi!" Astoria said brightly, beaming at both of them. "I'm Astoria!"

"Er…hello," Hermione said first. "I'm Hermione Granger, this is Hope Potter." She aimed a thumb in Hope's direction as she introduced her and Hope gave a respectful nod.

"Daph's told me all about you," she informed them cheerfully.

"Not everything, I hope," Hope drawled out. "I'd like to keep some of my mystique."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Astoria giggled as Daphne descended the staircase at a more leisure pace, walking side by side with her parents.

"Astoria, stop accosting our guests," Callista Greengrass said with a note of exasperation in her voice, but her husband, Atreus –whom Hope and Hermione had never met– gave a small smile at his youngest child's antics.

"I'm not accosting them," Astoria grumbled mutinously, but she took a few steps back –exaggerated enough to earn another look from her mother– until she was standing beside Daphne.

"Atreus, darling," Callista's fingers brushed against her husband's arm, "these are the lovely girls Daphne has made such fine friends of, Hermione Granger and Hope Potter."

Both girls inclined their heads respectfully.

"Daphne has told us so much about you," Atreus spoke with a rich voice that matched his appearance quite well. Like his wife and daughters, he had blonde hair, though a bit lighter, and his eyes were a kindly brown. "I hope I didn't intrude on your studies, I'm certain you are as busy as Daphne is with them, but I wanted to meet the two of you before the Winter Gala."

"We understand," Hope gave a respectful reply. "Don't worry, Lord Greengrass; our studies are complete for the day."

"Excellent," Atreus said with a smile before waving a hand towards the dining room, "come, join us for dinner."

"Daphne had them make something you'll eat," Astoria promised with glinting eyes and her elder sister nudged her shoulder, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

*Chapter 5*: Winter Gala

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Five: Winter Gala

AN: Apparently James' parents weren't Charlus and Dorea Potter, but I like it better with them where they are, let's just say that Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were farther up in the family tree as Charlus' parents...

October passed into November silently and with it came the chill that foreboded the coming of winter. Hope had always hated winter; she had never had enough warmth for the chills that seemed constant when she was living at the Dursleys.

Her clothes were always worn through by the time winter came around, but now she could cosy up to a fire in a knitted jumper.

Cosy up with her various pieces of homework and her wand tucked behind her ear, easy to grab, while Remus sat in the poufy armchair with glasses perched on his nose as he read from a small book that had been creased many times from being read so much.

If Hope noticed his presence, she gave no indication, wrinkling her nose in frustration.

"Maybe you should take a break," Remus advised, not looking up from the book in his hands.

"I need get this down before Hermione and Daphne come over tomorrow," Hope insisted, her eyes colouring grey in her aggravation.

They were down to a month until their final exams and, as luck would have it, Hope had gotten a bit of a block in her transfiguration magic.

"Hope…" Remus had put down his book in order to look at her fully. "At this rate you're going to overwork yourself."

"No, I'm not," Hope refuted. She wasn't doing anywhere close to how much Hermione was, and the brunette was still somehow managing to get better grades than her in all their classes while still staying on top of her Muggle classes.

"Yes, you will," Remus insisted. "You can't learn magic all the time. You're young and your magical core is still developing. You will overexert yourself if you keep practicing."

Hope's eyes widened in surprise and her mouth formed a surprised, "Oh."

"Magic is like a muscle, Hope," Remus said, pulling himself out of his chair in order to stride towards his pseudo-niece who –after realizing practicing her magic was detrimental to her health– was wearing a perfectly petulant expression that made her seem almost younger in a way. "If you exercise it too much you will strain it."

"Great," Hope muttered under her breath, hunching her shoulders as she buried her face into the book she was holding.

"Why don't we go outside?" Remus suggested.

"Why?" Hope asked in a despondent manner.

"Because Mindy is running low on wood for the fire."

"I can't cut wood," Hope told him after a moment of incomprehension as to what wood had to do with anything.

"Well, you're going to learn," he told her, taking the book from her and snapping it shut and grasping her hands, pulling her up until she was standing. "Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty, Hope."

"I know that," she grumbled.

It wasn't like she hadn't done chores before. The only reason Petunia's flowers bloomed as much as they did was because Hope rather than her aunt, and Hope's nails had often had dirt caught under them, like the smears on her knees.

But she still conceded.

Hope's cheeks were pink from the chill in the air as she followed Remus outside.

The forest around Potter Manor was thick and eerie as usual. Hope was of the mind that for every tree that was cut down to fuel the fire, another grew in its place, since the trees never seemed to thin.

"I'm not sure I trust you with an axe," she commented as she pulled her gloves over her hands.

Remus ignored her as he shouldered the aforementioned weapon. "Come on, this way."

His leg was feeling better it seemed, given how he didn't need to walk with the aid of his cane today, but Hope knew from experience that the pain came and went.

They looped around to the side of the manor to where a shed was resting and after short work, Remus had her pushing a wheelbarrow through the leaves.

Sometimes Hope wondered who the master of the house was.

"You are going to cut down this tree," he said, directing her towards a tree that reached a good twenty feet above her head and had a trunk large around that Hope's arms couldn't completely wrap around.

Exasperation was clear as day on her face. "Please tell me you're joking."

Hope wasn't one for upper body strength, lower was a different matter entirely, mostly because she had to high-tail away from Dudley whenever he wanted to make her life difficult at school (but only where they couldn't be seen by teachers, and whenever Hope had tried to report him, none of them ever seemed to believe her, given her rebellious nature).

"Nope," Remus said with green eyes twinkling in the sunlight, holding the axe out to her and Hope looked upon it with apprehension.

"How is this supposed to help me?" Hope asked, taking the axe from him and almost dropping it when she realized that it was heavier than it seemed.

"Well, if you aren't focusing on your magic, then you aren't overworking your magical core," Remus said not unkindly as he helped her grasp the handle with a better grip.

"And what better way to distract myself than cut down a tree," Hope said with just an appropriate amount of sarcasm in her tone that Remus was quick to disregard.

She lifted the axe and collided it against the trunk, but it hardly seemed to make much of a dent.

An hour later she came inside and collapsed on the couch.

"How was it?"

Remus smirked at the muffled growl that was her response.

"Remus is under the weather again," Hope said when Daphne and Hermione arrived for class. "So, he said we should practice independently without him, and if we do well enough he won't quiz us over the last two chapters."

Daphne had been suspicious from the start concerning Remus' monthly illness and it hadn't taken much for Hermione to cotton on as well. They did have access to star charts after all and the scars on Remus' face were there for all to see.

"How is Remus?" Daphne asked innocently as Hope searched for something with her back to her friends.

"He had a bad night last night," Hope said evasively, "he says he'll be fine for tomorrow."

"We know he's a werewolf, you don't have to keep lying."

Hope's back stiffened and she turned around to glare heatedly at them both. "I'm not lying," she very nearly hissed. "Last night was bad and he's very ill."

But there was no denying that he was a werewolf.

"He's a werewolf," Hermione said, staring at Hope as if she was a curious piece of magic that she hadn't yet read over enough to understand.

"You say that like all werewolves are bad," Hope muttered, moving past them to head down the corridor, making for the direction of the kitchen.

"Well, the ones I've read about are," Hermione admitted and Hope scowled without even looking at her as she hugged the book tighter to her chest.

"It really doesn't bother you, does it?" Daphne asked with just a tiny bit of awe.

Hope had grown up in the Muggle world where werewolves were just legends and stories and in legends and stories as opposed to being something very real and very dangerous in the Wizarding world.

"No," she said swiftly, "it doesn't. Remus was one of my father's best friends and he's looked after me for months without anything bad happening." In the back of her mind she remembered the first full moon she had experienced with him at Potter Manor, but she pushed that thought aside quickly. "Remus isn't a bad person," she insisted, as if their silence was them agreeing that she was crazy for trusting a monster, "he's just got…a furry problem, is all."

It wasn't the best reasoning that she could come up with, but it didn't really matter when Hermione choked on her giggles and Daphne couldn't stop the sniggers that left her mouth.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes as they jumped from one girl to the other.

"We don't actually have a problem with him," Daphne felt the need to point out, since it seemed that Hope thought they were insulting her pseudo-uncle.

"We like Remus," Hermione added.

Hope blinked at them in dawning comprehension, walking backwards just in time for her heel to catch on the carpet and send her tumbling to the ground, then her expression was quite comical.

"I was under the impression that the Wizarding world was quite prejudiced towards werewolves," she said, turning to look at Daphne.

"That is true," Daphne conceded, "but werewolves are only dangerous one night a month and my mother vouches for him, so he can't be all that bad."

"Besides," Hermione interjected, "werewolves were made by other people into what they are, its not their fault that they become what they are."

But Hope doubted that was a view that many shared as crawled up into a standing position, still clutching the book, which was an old favourite of Remus', C.S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. "Oh," she said, her voice a bit meek once she realized she'd been angry with them for no reason.

"Yeah, oh," Hermione said, her lips pursed, "you didn't honestly think we wouldn't like Remus after all that we've learned from him before we knew about the whole werewolf deal?"

"I hadn't really considered it," Hope said a bit frankly before reaching her destination in the kitchen at last while her friends gave sighs of exasperation and disbelief.

"What do you take us for?"

"Two people who should probably be working on schoolwork," Hope sang as she searched for the bed tray that Mindy had hidden after she'd taken one too many breakfasts in bed and had insisted that if Hope wanted to eat breakfast then she would be joining them at the table. "Ah, here it is!"

"What exactly are you doing?" Daphne asked, watching the green-eyed girl flit about the kitchen, pulling a spoon free from a drawer, and a bowl, and a thick cloth napkin.

"I'm bringing Remus lunch because his stomach was growling when I left him alone and that was almost an hour ago," Hope said absently before taking the bowl to the pan simmering over the stove.

When she took the cover off, a myriad of lovely scents filled the room, earthy vegetables and herbs that were enough to make anyone's mouth water.

Hope spooned steaming soup into the bowl before replacing the cover and looking at them both.

"Don't eat that," she warned, "Mindy put something in it to help Remus, so it'll probably knock you right out."

"That's a nice House-elf you've got there." Daphne called after her as she walked out with tray in hand, whistling faintly.

"Is that for me?" Remus asked her with a hoarse voice when she entered the room that had been darkened since his senses suffered from overstimulation for a number of hours after his transformation.

"From Mindy herself," Hope said with a smile and Remus moved himself up further up on the bed so she could set the tray easily on his lap.

"I'll have to thank her," Remus said, rubbing his eyes with one hand while Hope rested his book against the bedside table.

"Mindy's not happy unless she's mothering someone," Hope grinned.

"Mindy heard that," the House-elf uttered from the bathroom, but her words only served to widen Hope's smile as Mindy approached to replace the wet rag on his forehead.

"How is he?" Hope asked Mindy as Remus clumsily spooned soup into his mouth with a mumble of "I'm right here," that was ignored.

"Mister Remus has a fever," Mindy said with an air of reproach towards the man swathed in blankets. "What Mister Remus is needing is rest, Mistress."

Hope nodded in understanding.

"You don't need to worry about us," she added to Remus as he blinked hazily in her direction. "I'm sure we won't have any trouble with the lesson without me."

Remus hummed absently.

"And Hermione and Daphne have figured out that you're a werewolf," Hope said almost too fast for him to understand and in entirely one breath.

Predictably, Remus choked on his soup and required a hasty gulp in order to breathe again.

"What?" he demanded, his throat blistering from the hot soup.

"Don't worry," Hope said, waving a careless hand, "they're cool with it."

Remus just gaped at her like he had never heard of such a thing.

It was a few days later, on the Friday after they had finished their work for the night that Hermione drudged up enough courage to ask him about being a werewolf.

"Erm, Remus," Hermione said in clearly what she thought was a delicate voice, but it was very far from, "can you…can you tell us about being a werewolf?"

Remus, who had been in the process of taking a drink from his cup of tea, paused and set it down on the arm of the armchair and Hope looked up over her final revision to glance towards his face, but it was hard to see from where she was sitting and how Remus was positioned.

"You don't have to," Daphne added quickly, shooting a look towards Hermione, who just wasn't capable of quelling her desire to learn, even if it made some people uncomfortable.

"It's alright," Remus assured them, "I don't mind."

Or, if he did, he didn't show it.

"I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure," he told them, his green eyes seeming almost amber in the light from the fire. "There is a potion that has been discovered recently, the Wolfsbane Potion, that makes a werewolf as safe as a werewolf could possibly be on a full moon, it allows one to keep their mind when they transform. However, I have neither the money nor the access to it…" His eyes grew distant and Hope wondered if he'd ever had the chance to take the potion.

"When I was younger, the transformations were terrible, and I was too young to understand why my parents desired to keep me as far from the public as it was possible," Remus said and Daphne was quick to notice the vein of bitterness that ran through his words. "My mother was a Muggle so she found it harder than my father to deal with what I had become." He smiled fondly as he brought up the woman who had raised him. "But she still believed I could find some way to combat the wolf within, even on full moons."

"Did you?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Sometimes it seems as though I have more control than he does," Remus conceded, "other days it seems I am as powerless as my first transformation…but my parents grew concerned that I would be denied admittance into Hogwarts given my…condition." His lips thinned as he said 'condition'. "Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me. But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school..."

Hope had to give it to Dumbledore, if there was one good thing that Albus Dumbledore had done, it was giving Remus a chance at going to school like the other Wizarding children. Though, there wasn't much Hope could compare to, given the lot she'd had in life because of his influence.

"On the grounds of the school there is a rather famous tree that everyone is told to never approach called the Whomping Willow…well, those rules only came into play after someone nearly lost an eye playing a game at trying to touch the tree's base."

Daphne's eyebrows rose high on her forehead and a glance to her friends told her that they were wearing similar expressions.

"The Whomping Willow was planted over a passage that led to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, perhaps you've heard of it?" he suggested.

Hermione's eyes went round. "The Shrieking Shack?" she repeated dubiously. "The most haunted building in Britain?"

Remus gave a few rusty chuckles at that. "I admit, the shack's reputation has been a bit embellished over the years, but yes, that Shrieking Shack, and, no, it wasn't haunted."

He didn't elaborate on the issue, so Hope supposed that he was coming back to it at a later point in the explanation.

"Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous, but that didn't make it any easier." Remus grimaced as he leaned back in his chair, slumping against the cushions.

"In those days my transformations were some of the worst I've experienced, mostly because I was still growing, and it is always very painful to turn into a werewolf…I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumour... Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it..."

Daphne's eyes traced over the scars that were clear on his face, wondering if those were his work or the werewolf who had turned him and the thought made her ill.

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life," Remus added, once he saw the looks the three girls were wearing and how Hermione was hugging a plush pillow to her chest. "For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black...Peter Pettigrew...and, of course, James Potter."

Hope smiled widely at that.

"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her...I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you girls, worked out the truth..."

"Probably because they are all pretty bad excuses," Daphne snorted.

"Yes, well, I was younger at the time and very desperate," Remus said sheepishly, making the girls laugh for good measure. "But they did something that I did not expect when they found out the truth. They didn't desert me, and that would have been more than enough if they hadn't done something that made my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life."

"How did they do that?" Hermione asked, drawing the pillow down so she could speak.

"They became Animagi."

"Oh!" Daphne said with understanding, but Hope and Hermione were a bit lost, not familiar with the term Animagi. "Of course! Animagi are witches and wizards that can transform themselves into an animal and werewolves are only a threat to humans," she added for the girls' benefit.

"Ah," came the dawning realization that earned them a half-smile.

"It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it," Remus said, nodding towards Hope as he spoke, "your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong –one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will.

"They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed...Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them. But there was one problem."

"What was it?" Hope asked, leaning forward in anticipation.

"Well, we were reckless and thoughtless at that age," Remus said and Hope was surprised, given the cautious nature he now possessed, "and highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did…after a while we even gifted each other nicknames that no one save for ourselves new the meanings behind. Sirius was Padfoot, Peter, Wormtail, and James was Prongs while I was Moony."

"That's original," Daphne sniggered, and Hope pushed her on her side with her foot.

"But what would have happened if they hadn't been able to keep you in check?" Hermione asked instead, staring at him with eyes as wide as when he had first begun his tale. "What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

The smile fell from Remus' lips. "A thought that still haunts me," he spoke with a weight in his voice. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, foolish – carried away with our own cleverness…I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course... he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure."

He pulled himself up out of the armchair with a low groan.

"Now, I think I'm going to retire for the evening," he said, stifling a yawn with ease. "You girls try not to stay up too late, you've got a Transfiguration and a History of Magic exam in the morning."

"Night, Remus," Hope said as he bent to kiss the top of her head in a fatherly gesture than she was sure her own father would have done for her if he was still alive.

"You ever think Remus gets the short end of the stick, being a werewolf?" Daphne asked them once he'd vacated the room.

"All the time," Hope grumbled.

Manor had always been a relative term when speaking concerning Potter Manor, it seemed almost too small a term, but any larger and Hope would have to call it a castle, which it most certainly wasn't.

Hope's poplar wand was a familiar warmth as its lit tip illuminated the dark hallway that was blocked by a thick curtain.

Hope and Remus didn't use all the rooms, obviously, Potter Manor was so large that it simply wasn't possible, and these rooms were the farthest from the staircase.

Only someone who didn't want to be close to the door would want to sleep down here.

Hope drew the curtain back quickly to expose the corridor, as short as it was, as if expecting there to be something behind it, but there was not.

A sigh left her lips, but it wasn't as though she had been anticipating something like a bat flapping down over her face, disturbed from its slumber by her jerking the curtain.

Honestly, Hope should have probably been studying as opposed to investigating her own home, as their exams were only a week away now, but Hope was trying not to overload her brain, and had decided to go exploring in Potter Manor, as a great deal of the manor was untouched even since Hope had taken up residence within.

The light of her wand shone down over a polished plaque on one room's door with the name James inscribed into it.

This was her father's room, and Hope lifted a hand to trace over the letters.

She could imagine her father as Remus described him, rebellious enough to demand a room far from his parents, but not on the completely opposite end of the house, which showed he didn't actually mind being close to them.

There was a small sign tacked onto the door above the name.

Absolutely no one allowed inside! It declared cheerfully. Except Padfoot! Keep out! Pranking Genius within!

Hope wasn't sure how long she stood there looking at her father's handwriting, so very different from her own.

She could have entered the room, there was nothing stopping her; everything in Potter Manor belonged solely to her and the room's owner was long dead.

But she couldn't quite bring herself to turn the knob of the door.

Hope drew her hand away from the door with a sigh. Maybe she was afraid of finding something within? Maybe she was afraid of finding that he was very different than Remus had described him; a prankster with a hatred for anything Dark.

She wasn't sure they were really alike…

A low sigh parted from her lips as she ducked back, bouncing on the balls of her feet, a movement that caused her to catch sight of a second name plaque on the room beside his, one that bore the name Sirius.

Hope frowned. There it was again, the unknown Sirius making another appearance.

Could someone who lived in the room beside her father really been instrumental in his death?

He too had a sign tacked onto the door: Only admittance: Prongs! On mischief business!

The similar signs made Hope's lips curl upwards despite the confusion she still felt about the circumstances surrounding her parents' deaths and her godfather's imprisonment.

And then she grasped the door's knob and much it open as the hinges gave a high squeak, used to being closed more often than being open.

She flipped on the light switch and stepped into the room.

It was a mess, clearly belonging to that of a teenage boy in a rush to pack.

The wall was covered with a banner of red and gold with the Gryffindor seal and an assortment of enchanted pictures and newspaper clippings pasted to the wall.

Most of the newspaper clippings concerned Quidditch –a magical game that was played in the air on broomsticks involving four balls that seemed a bit odd to Hope– team from Ireland that Sirius Black had apparently been a fan of before his imprisonment, but other than that, the pictures seemed to be centred on him and his friends.

Most of them involved his with an arm thrown over the shoulders of Hope's father, each grinning widely with Remus and Peter.

There was one in which he appeared to be swooning dramatically in the younger Remus' arms and the unenthused expression on Remus' face was what made it perfect.

The four friends were wearing their graduation robes in one of the last images he must have stuck to the wall, given their ages.

Remus was laughing and Peter's shoulders were shaking while Sirius kept falling in and out of the picture's edge and her father was bracing his hands on his knees, laughing too hard to remain standing.

Hope sat down on the bed, coughing when the action caused a small cloud of dust to rise up from the bed.

It was clear that Sirius Black had been proud of his House, given the sheer amount of red and gold and lions that were thrown around the room; on the walls, on the bed, against the small book shelf…

"Only one person knew where they were, and that was their Secret-Keeper, Sirius Black," that was what Remus had said, but something about it made Hope frown.

If her parents knew they were going to be hunted, wouldn't her father's best friend been a bit obvious?

Maybe it was just Hope, but a Secret-Keeper didn't sound like someone you wanted people to know about instantly if you were on the run.

But it hardly mattered now, did it? Her parents were dead and Sirius Black was in prison, and that was that.

Hope tangled her fingers briefly in her hair before her eyes caught sight of a book on the floor that appeared to have fallen from the shelf, landing half-open on the floor.

She bent to lift it up, dusting off its cover to read the title.

The Tales of Beedle the Bard…well, that could be potentially interesting.

Hope's face was numb as she hacked the axe against the tree that Remus had set her before more than a month previously.

She had given up after not giving much of an effort, she was woman enough to admit that, and Hope didn't really even know why she was bothering when her exams were in two days.

She should probably be doing some last-minute studying, but Remus was right about not overworking herself; it would only bring more harm than good.

You wouldn't think that swinging an axe into a tree was as hard as it was, but it had made Hope's muscles burn without much effort. Maybe it had more to do that Hope was very weak in physical activities.

She had always been the last to be picked in gym class, and the only thing she was seemed to be good at during her time in Muggle school was running away, mostly with Dudley and his cronies hot on her trail.

Upper body strength had never really been her forte, besides, she wasn't a really physically violent person, but that didn't mean that she wasn't willing to tear into someone verbally, and if her fists joined in, who could really blame her?.

Hermione had told her she had a razor-sharp tongue that needed to be kept in check, and Hope had responded that Hermione spoke without tact.

"Touché," Hermione had conceded.

Hope gritted her teeth as the axe connected with the tree's trunk again.

Just three more days and she'd have a break for two weeks before they started second year work.

A clump of snow fell on Hope's head and her shoulders drew upwards as she grimaced from the icy cold.

This was the reason people didn't like winter…snow falling on poor unsuspecting people.

"Can you read this to me?" Hope asked Remus, holding the book out to the werewolf, holding it so that it almost seemed to be a shield in front of her.

They seemed to alternate between reading each other books, but the books they usually read were of the Tolkien and C.S. Lewis variety (granted, the pair only had two books to read each other in total).

Remus smiled and patted the spot on the couch beside him. "Sure, Hope, come and sit."

Hope brightened as she curled up next to Remus, pulling the blankets over her legs as she did so, forfeiting the book to Remus.

"Which story do you want me to read?" he asked her once she'd gotten herself situated.

"The Tale of Three Brothers," Hope said automatically and Remus thumbed through the pages until he reached the proper page.

"There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight," he began. "In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across... However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure." His voice had grown steadily darker as he tried to bring the story to life with his voice, but Hope merely grinned and rolled her eyes again for good measure.

"Don't hurt yourself," she said in dry amusement, and Remus couldn't silence a laugh.

"And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him." Hope smiled lightly at that, the idea of being cleverer than Death.

"So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother. Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead." Hope's black stone ring felt heavy on her hand, but she dismissed that as her sleepiness catching up with her.

"And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility." Remus wondered if Hope knew that her father had possessed a similar cloak to the one in the story.

"Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination. The first brother traveled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible."

Because when had anyone's boastful nature in stories ever ended well?

"That very night," Remus read, "another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat. And so Death took the first brother for his own.

It seemed a rather morbid choice of a fairytale to be read before bed, Remus privately thought, but Hope was also a girl that was periodically visited by Death himself, so he couldn't really judge.

"Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him.

Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her. And so, Death took the second brother for his own."

Hope leaned her head against Remus' shoulder and he was sure she was nearly asleep now, but the tale was almost done.

"But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."

Exam day arrived and Hermione was by far the worst of the three.

Her hair was more frizzy than usual and her eyes had taken on a wild quality that Hope had previously thought she would never possess. Hermione was, after all, the one among them with the coolest head.

"What if I didn't study enough?" Hermione was speaking so fast that it was a little difficult for Hope and Daphne to keep up with her. "I should've studied more!"

The practical exams were first and that was probably what was making Hermione freak out the most; her forte was written work as opposed to application, whereas the other two were mostly the opposite.

"Deep breaths," Hope advised, as it seemed as though the brunette wasn't taking in enough oxygen.

"I don't need—"

"Trust me," Daphne said flatly, "you do."

Hermione scowled at them fiercely. "Just because you two aren't worried about your exams doesn't mean that I'm going to stop."

"What makes you think we aren't worried?" Hope asked, flummoxed. "We're just not showing it as obviously as you…probably because we know we need air to breathe."

"I hate both of you," Hermione muttered.

"No, you don't," Daphne said with a wide grin.

The practical exams were rather simple, Hope soon discovered, but that might have had something to do with the fact that they were for witches and wizards in first year and as they went on, the practical exams would probably get harder and harder.

Making a pineapple tap dance across a desk, turning a mouse into a pin cushion, implementing the proper use of the Knockback Jinx, displaying the proper way to plant a Puffapod, labelling a star chart, and making a Forgetful Potion from memory alone were the different types of practicals the girls had to do over the course of a few hours.

It sounded relatively simple, but Hope had completely blanked on the Forgetful Potion, which was a bit ironic, given the potion itself. She'd barely remembered the proper amount of measurements for the ingredients, and she wasn't positive the potion had turned out completely right, but that was neither here nor there.

The written exam, however, wasn't a terrible as Hope had been considering, though they still seemed to take the entire day (apparently, they were more drawn out when you had a whole year to prepare for them, but no such luck).

History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts were by far the easiest, Hope discovered as she siphoned the excess ink off her quill and pulled History of Magic's essay towards herself:

State the accomplishments of notable historical magical figures: Gaspard Shingleton, Emeric the Evil, Uric the Oddball, and Elfric the Eager.

This was a rather simple question if you asked Hope.

Gaspard Shingleton was the wizard who invented the Self-Stirring Cauldron, Emeric the Evil terrorized South England, claiming to be a master of Death (somehow, that seemed rather unlikely to Hope when she'd read the passage), before he was killed in a duel with Egbert the Egregious, Uric the Oddball had no real accomplishments other than being considered the strangest wizard in history for his eccentric behavior, and Elfric the Eager was not a wizard, but a goblin who was involved in a revolt against the wand-carrying population of Ireland who was famous for winning his kind a number of rights they had been denied before...

By the time that Hope had finished her exams, Hermione was still hard at work, but Daphne had been finished for roughly twenty minutes.

Hope had fingers stained with ink and a smudge on her cheek as she handed her parchments over to Remus before departing the room quietly to join Daphne waiting silently, clearly not trying to think too hard about how she'd done.

"If I fail this, I will not be pleased," Daphne told her when she plopped down on the cushions beside her.

"Then you probably didn't fail."

"Don't say that," Daphne groaned, "Because now it's all I can think about."

"Oops," Hope grimaced.

Hermione came out soon after, wringing her hands nervously and looking as pale as she had been when she arrived. Hope couldn't be sure if she thought she'd done well or not, given the state of her, so she opted to not ask, instead choosing to wait a bit impatiently for Remus to finish grading their work and give them the results.

And Hope could honestly say she was a bit pleased with her results. She only earned two O's, while Hermione and Daphne earned three, and she alone earned one A in Potions, but she couldn't help but be glad of how well she'd done.

"I'm still not sure how I feel about you being around families of Death Eaters," Remus called, clicking his tongue as Hope disappeared behind the drawn screen with the dress that Mindy had held out to her.

"Well, I'm going to see them at some point, aren't I?" Hope queried from beyond. "What's the phrase? Know your enemies?"

"Hope," Remus reproached, "you are ten years old."

Hope peeked her head around the side, a curtain of dark curls tumbling over her shoulders. "And?" she demanded. "Age doesn't have anything to do with it, Daphne's my age and she knows more about politics than me."

"That's not necessarily a good thing," Remus reminded her, "and Daphne's grown up with the kind of environment that you and Hermione are walking into; she knows how to handle it better."

A noise of annoyance passed Hope's lips, but she offered no reply, focusing instead on pulling the dress on over her head before warning: "And don't you dare laugh, Remus!"

Of course, that wasn't really his style, but he didn't have time to inform her of that before Hope stepped out from behind the shade of the dressing screen.

She looked lovely.

The dress was a navy blue, as dark as the night sky without being black, with a shimmery material over it that held small silver stars sewn in.

It couldn't have been said that the dress didn't suit her, what with her love for stargazing. And Remus would have been hard pressed to find a different dress that suited her just as well.

Hope's fingers fluttered over the dress, smoothing down the frown and avoiding his eyes.

"It seems a little big," she mumbled a bit awkwardly.

"I'm sure that's the way it's supposed to be, Hope," Remus responded, smiling kindly. "You look very pretty."

"Thanks," Hope said, almost shyly, before moving to perch on the edge of her bed as Mindy stood atop the mattress behind her, deft fingers styling Hope's thick dark hair into a crown braid, while Hope clasped a simple silver chain necklace around her throat (evidently, her great-grandmother Euphemia had a love for simplistic jewellery) and pull a coiled snake bracelet around one wrist which seemed to move as Hope's fingers twitched.

You would have never thought that Hope had been raised a Muggle if you looked at her now.

"All done, Mistress," Mindy said, smiling at Hope as she pulled herself upright, the material of the skirt fluttering from the quick move.

"Thank you, Mindy," Hope said before batting her eyes in an exaggerated motion towards Remus. "I will be the talk of the gala, imagine the last of Slytherin's noble house being in attendance!"

Remus, who had never known James' bloodline (though he had mistakenly considered the thought that he might've been related to Godric Gryffindor himself, given his old family ties and stanch Gryffindor beliefs), found himself openly gaping at her.

Hope laughed light and cheerful, and it was the same laugh that belonged to Elpis Slytherin.

Hermione's mother had gushed over how pretty her little girl was becoming and it was enough to make her face as radiant as a sunset, and it didn't go well with the pretty dress she was wearing.

One thing Hermione knew very well was that she was not a girly-girl, so to speak. She spent more time with her nose in a book than focused on her appearance, other than making sure she was clean and looking as though she didn't just wake up from a deep slumber.

Daphne was probably the one of the three that acted the most like a girl, or, a proper girl, at the least. Daphne who always had earrings dangling from her lobes and fingernails perfectly smooth, with her hair plaited in its typical golden French twist.

Hermione often felt like the odd one out when compared with Hope and Daphne, the daughters of Lords, when Hermione was just the daughter of Dentists, but they never let her feel like that for long.

She learned Pure-blood etiquette beside Hope, from Mindy no less! Whether she wanted to learn or not, the House-elf had said, it was a standard way to politely speak to individuals, and anyone should know how to do that (she'd said it using different terms, but the overall intent was the same).

But Hermione still didn't feel quite so comfortable with her feet strapped into short heels, wearing her bushy hair in controlled curls, with a blue dress that swept across the ground just barely.

It was the most beautiful thing Hermione had ever seen and she had tried to force it back on Hope when she'd given it to her, only to eventually relent because "That shade of blue isn't really my colour, besides, you can think of it as part of your Christmas present!"

The sleeves were short around her elbows and made of lace, like the bodice, but past that, the skirt was made of a soft and flowing material.

It made Hermione feel like she was the prettiest girl in the room, just for a few moments.

But her smile ruined the whole image.

"Miss Hermione," Mindy squeaked, descending the stairs after seeing too her mistress after she'd picked up Hermione. "Mistress is almost finished."

Hermione took that to mean that Remus was getting one last lecture in.

"Erm, Mindy? Could…could you do me a favour?" she asked, stuttering as she twisted her fingers together.

"Favour, Miss?" Mindy asked, fixing her large blue eyes on Hermione in an almost unnerving stare that Hope had often been on the receiving end.

Not five minutes later she was holding a mirror as Mindy worked her magic, making her teeth an appropriate size, with the front ones not as large as they had previously been.

She was sure her parents wouldn't approve, being Dentists, but Hermione had been made fun of for her smile for as long as she could remember.

And when she smiled at Hope once she'd finished, Hope's eyes had widened in surprise.

Daphne, of course, looked as lovely as ever.

Her dress was white and patterned with gold and the high bun on her head gave off the impression that it had been done haphazardly, but Daphne pulled it off well, even with her younger sister hanging off her hand as she waved her two friends closer.

Astoria was as cut as a button with a small silver dress that would make any patron coo over her.

The Gala was held in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic that neither Hope nor Hermione had ever stepped foot in and when they arrived via Mindy they were very impressed.

"This is only the Atrium?" Hermione breathed in astonishment as she looked around in awe.

The hall –if it could be called that– was very large and seemed to expand with every new person that arrived to the Gala, perhaps it was magic, perhaps it was merely Hope's perception. They tilted their heads skyward to see the blue-painted ceiling over which unfamiliar golden symbols moved. There were more than several fireplaces, but not in the main area, which was circular, making Hope think strangely of King Arthur's Round Table (she blamed the books on Arthurian legend she'd taken to reading ever since she'd discovered that Merlin had indeed been a real person).

"Pretty nice, right?" Daphne said with a grin, dragging Astoria with her as she greeted her friends.

There was transfigured false-ice on the walls and icicles and snowflakes moving, enchanted, across the air high above their heads.

"Well, I've never been to a gala before, so I couldn't really say," Hope said as diplomatically as she could manage.

"I went to one once," Hermione admitted, "but it was more of a formal meeting place for those in the medical field." She wrinkled her nose at the memory of it.

"Not a fan?" Daphne guessed.

Hermione shrugged. "I guess you could say it wasn't really my cup of tea."

Astoria giggled and Hope couldn't stop her own snort that Daphne quickly replicated.

"Come on, Father told me to find him once the two of you showed up."

Hermione looped her arm around Hope's as they followed after their friend, mostly because they actually couldn't tell which head of blonde hair belonged to Atreus Greengrass in the sea of dark-haired individuals.

For the first time in a long time, Hope keenly felt just how small she was, compared to everyone else in the room. Sure, Remus was tall, but he was usually the only tall person she dealt with on a daily basis, and Hope, Hermione, and Daphne were all of similar heights so Hope didn't have to lean her head back in order to look at their faces.

The Greengrasses were speaking to another blonde-haired couple, but their hair was far lighter than Atreus and Callista's. They were a pretty couple, taking them at face value only, with sharp cheekbones and pointed chins, and the child with them –about Hope's own age, she'd wager– clearly had inherited his looks from them.

"Ah, Daphne, Astoria, there you are," Atreus drew his daughters forward, "I'm sure you remember Lord and Lady Malfoy? And their son?"

"Of course," Daphne said primly and she and her sister curtsied effortlessly. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Lord and Lady Malfoy, Heir Malfoy."

Heir Malfoy barely blinked but Hope had the uncomfortable feeling that he didn't care much for Daphne or her family. The Greengrasses were one of the well off ancient family lines, like many in the room, as she had been informed before their arrival, but their money was far dwarfed by the fortune of that of the Malfoy family.

Many would consider a match with the Malfoy family to be an advantageous one, and it was clear that Atreus and Callista were considering the possibility of one day one of their children bonding with Heir Malfoy. Though the Greengrasses would probably never admit it, because they preferred to leave marriage up to choice and love rather than what was most advantageous.

The fact that Lord Malfoy had once been a Death Eater serving under Voldemort at the time of his death (Hope knew from the many books that covered the subject, most predominantly, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts) was perhaps the only thing that drew Atreus short.

"And who are your charming companions, Heir Greengrass?" the Lady Malfoy inquired, pale eyes glancing over Daphne's friends with something that could have been considered casual interest to some but Hope caught the calculating glint in her eye.

Hope stepped forward, spine straight, shoulders back, and head held high.

"I am Elpis Slytherin," Hope declared, seeming unaware of the attention she had garnered for such words. "Last of the Slytherin Line."

Daphne knew what the words meant, as stunned as she was by the admission. Of all the Pure-blood propriety they had discussed, Hope's lineage had never come up, mostly because Daphne had always known just what family she was an heir of.

Hermione had no idea the significance of the words spoken, but the name Slytherin was one she had read countless times within the book Hope had gifted her, Hogwarts, A History. Salazar Slytherin, one of the esteemed four founders of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

But there were many negative tales within concerning Salazar Slytherin, while painting the other three in a kinder light (which by itself was a bit annoying, but to the victors go the spoils, as the saying was).

And the look the Malfoys wore as they looked upon her was enough to twist a slight smile upon her lips.

The two girls were obviously not of the Greengrass family, judging by their features alone.

The brunette had an earthy quality to her, in the chestnut of her eyes and the soft brown of her hair, whereas her dark-haired companion couldn't have been more different.

Thick dark plaited hair circled around her head and green eyes scrutinized her. The brunette didn't have the same sharp features as the girl with green eyes, but they both were every bit as pretty as young Heir Greengrass.

And the declaration didn't stop short of shocking Lady Narcissa Malfoy all the way down to her slender heels.

"I am Elpis Slytherin. Last of the Slytherin Line." The eyes held a green fire, the likes of which Narcissa had not seen in many years.

"This is my loyal friend, Hermione Granger," Hope added, gesturing a hand towards Hermione as Heir Malfoy openly gaped at her and the Greengrasses shared a look over her head.

The lack of a title before the girl's name was not missed to Narcissa, and neither to Lucius.

"You are Muggle-born, are you not?" he inquired of the girl, eyes narrowing with distaste. It was enough to make Narcissa sigh.

It was true that her husband –and by extension, her son– had certain standards, and disapproval of those with magic born to Muggles was something Abraxas Malfoy had ingrained in his son at a very young age.

But Narcissa knew that there were many Muggle-borns that didn't deserve the maltreatment that many Pure-bloods held towards them.

"I am," Hermione said, swallowing thickly, her arm tightening over Hope's.

Lucius' lip curled and Hope's gaze grew cold.

"Heir Slytherin," Narcissa spoke with a mother's kindness, "are you here with family or friends?"

Green eyes flickered towards her. "My parents were killed when I was very small, Lady Malfoy," she answered, "I am here, along with Hermione, as a guest to Heir Greengrass."

"You have our condolences for your late loss," Lucius said smoothly and Narcissa could just imagine him considering what the family name of Slytherin could do for the Malfoys, but she was just a girl.

"Thank you," Hope said stiffly before breathing in deeply and allowing a smile to warm over her face as she looked to Narcissa once more. "I understand that you and I are family, Lady Malfoy, through our shared Black blood."

Narcissa spared the child a smile of her own. "It seems we might be…you have the colouring of a Black more than I, it seems, Heir Slytherin." It was a jest, of course, Hope shared more with her dead mother.

That earned her a small laugh from the child in question. "Well, my grandmother Dorea was not very dark-haired, if old family records are to be believed."

Narcissa had learned about the Black family ties very early in her life, as was the requirement for Pure-blood children, and she knew very well that the Dorea Black she was speaking of was the same that had married Charlus Potter and had birthed James Potter, the very same man who had sired Hope Potter, the famed Girl-Who-Lived.

She whispered a request to her husband to leave her with Heir Slytherin for a few moments and then it was just the two of them, with Hermione being pulled away by Daphne.

"I was under the impression that you were being raised by Muggles, Heir Potter," she said her true name quietly.

Hope didn't even blink.

"I was," she said, "but we had…differences of opinion." That was putting it mildly. "I left a few months back, a few weeks after I turned ten."

Narcissa's features smoothed. "I see," she said. "And now?"

"I am well cared for," Hope spun her words carefully.

Indeed, her cheeks shone with health and it was clear that she was much healthier than when she had first arrived at Potter Manor with the bones of her ribs being just slightly visible when she disrobed.

"I just passed my first year of magical schooling," she added with a bit of pride that Narcissa knew instantly to not be faked.

"Very impressive," Narcissa gave her a maternal smile that made a small flush spread across Hope's cheeks. "Your parents would be very pleased."

Narcissa had known Lily far better than James, but even then she hadn't known them very well. But anyone would have been pleased by their child excelling in study the year before they were due to attend school.

"So I've heard," Hope said, ducking her head slightly, twisting the serpent bracelet around her arm.

"I take it that Elpis Slytherin is an ancestral name," Narcissa added, eyes following the movement of the girl's hands.

"It is," Hope agreed. "My…caretaker had thought it best that I didn't speak my birth name in a setting such as this."

Unease filtered through her expression and Narcissa could understand her desire to remain an unknown, at least as she really was. Only a hint of the tell-tale lightning-bolt scar on her forehead was visible through her thick fringe.

Somehow, Hope didn't quite know how exactly hours later, Narcissa managed to convince the young heiress to join her for tea at Malfoy Manor ("Whenever you are free," Narcissa had said with a sweet smile that left Hope wondering if it was impolite to refuse). It was such a Slytherin tactic that Hope couldn't feel anything but grudging respect for the woman.

When she rejoined her friends, there was a boy with brown hair striding away from Hermione angrily and Hermione seemed a bit at a loss.

"I just need to stay away from people," Hermione decided despondently as Hope joined them.

"Don't be ridiculous," Daphne scoffed, "you just need to manage your tendency to blurt things out. You're the only one of us that's a people person; we need you to bring up the group average."

Hermione gave her a frown but Hope laughed.

"I guess we know what to do if we run into any more bigots," Hope said with a grin.

"Unleash Hermione on them and hope for the best?" Daphne offered, eyes glinting.

Hermione jabbed them both in the side with her elbows.

*Chapter 6*: Yuletide at Potter Manor

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Six: Yuletide at Potter Manor

AN:To all you readers suffering from Geope withdrawl…I'm sorry! But Geope isn't going to show up in this fic until GoF, well, I should say full on Geope won't happen until then, but I'm sure you'll get some subtext. Loads of subtext, knowing me ;)

To one person: no, Hope is only the descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Adding Gryffindor to the mix would make me gag to be honest.

TheAsterousAuthor: Yes, there are nine Muses, but the Muses inspire, so I like the idea of Fred and George say that 'the Muses inspired this prank item' when they get the shop up and running. :)

"Who was the guy?" Hope asked, nodding off towards the boy that Hermione had apparently angered.

"Heir Marcus Flint," Daphne said automatically, squinting her eyes so they were almost shut, looking off in the direction that the older boy had strode off in. "I don't think he took kindly to her pointing out that the number of Muggle-borns in the Ministry currently outnumber the Pure-bloods."

Hope stared at Hermione, making the brown-eyed girl flush predictably. "Where did you even find that stuff out?"

"A book," Hermione said without much thought. "It listed all kinds of statistics."

"Of course it did," Hope smirked.

"Did you have a nice conversation with Lady Malfoy?" Daphne asked sweetly, but Hope saw right through it. However, she didn't bother to comment on it.

"I did," Hope said, "she's invited me to tea whenever I'm free…though it seems like that's going to be near the end of June, at the rate we're going at."

"Please!" Daphne released an un-ladylike snort. "No one's going at the rate we're going at!"

"Probably because they're sane," Hermione felt the need to point out, smoothing her hands down the front of her skirt.

"Well, no one's denying our insanity," Hope interjected. "But on the plus side, we will at least be out of school two years earlier than our age-mates."

"True," Daphne conceded.

"Do you think champagne tastes any good?" Hermione interjected suddenly, eyes falling to the tray that was being carried past by a man in white robes.

Hope's eyebrows rose high on her forehead and Daphne gaped at her. "What? I'm just curious, everyone's drinking it."

That was true. Nearly everyone in the girls' line of sight was holding a champagne flute, which was to say all the adults and none of the children (which was understandable).

Daphne's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Maybe they make it have a good taste, 'cause I haven't heard a lot about champagne tasting good."

Astoria was dancing between people to reach her old sister, evidently she'd gone with her parents when they parted.

"So, tea at Malfoy Manor, that'll be fun," Daphne said once Astoria grasped her hand, swinging their linked hands together in a wide circle. "But you know the family is full of bigots, right?"

"I might have gathered that by how they responded to Hermione being a Muggle-born," Hope commented wryly.

Hermione twisted her hands a bit uncomfortably. It might have been a nice evening if she hadn't decided to come along; galas weren't for a daughter of dentists. It was clear that many people found her presence annoying and irritating.

"Oi, stop that," Daphne nudged her ankle with the toe of her shoe. "There's nothing wrong with being a Muggle-born."

"Mum was a Muggle-born," Hope agreed.

"I know," Hermione said, looking from one friend to the other, "it's just…the people here don't really seem all that nice."

"Some of them aren't, well, at least they don't have good reputations from what Father's said," Daphne frowned thoughtfully.

"Like the Lestranges," Astoria piped up. "And the Rookwoods."

"Yeah, but they're all in prison," Daphne pointed out. "I was thinking more of the Parkinsons and Crabbes and Goyles, I heard rumours about them."

"Giving bribes to the Ministry in order to keep out of prison?" Hope offered with an arched eyebrow.

"It does seem to be the typical for Death Eaters, doesn't it?" Daphne mused. "Mother thinks it lucky that Sirius Black was caught on November 1, or they wouldn't have been able to get away free."

Hope's eyebrows creased together as she thought about that. So, Sirius Black's arrest must have been big news…

"I'd be careful with the Malfoys, Hope."

Hope blinked in surprise as Atreus Greengrass, who had apparently just rejoined the girls with his lovely wife on his arm, leaned down so that their heads were level.

"Why's that?" Hope asked curiously.

"Lord Malfoy was in the Dark Lord's inner circle," Atreus spoke with a hint of warning in his voice. "Be careful of what you say in his presence."

Hope nodded seriously.

Lord Malfoy had come off a bit like a leech to her, despite how little she had spoken to him, and she had seen a definite gleam in his eye when she'd uttered her family name (well, one of them). It made her skin crawl…

There was a soft hum of conversation around them. Narcissa had gently prodded Draco in the direction of the sweet table, which he went towards with great reluctance.

"Do you believe her?" Lucius asked her.

"Concerning what?" Narcissa asked with slight evasion, curling her hand around her husband's arm.

Grey eyes scrutinized her. "Being the Heir to the Slytherin Family."

Ah, Narcissa thought. "Yes," she spoke aloud, "I do."

"She could be very good for the family," Lucius hinted.

"Dear Husband," Narcissa's eyes glittered, "are you trying to set our son up with Heir Slytherin?"

Lucius neither confirmed nor denied that fact.

Night had long since fallen when Hope returned to Potter Manor, holding her short heels caught up in her fingers.

Remus had been asleep by the fire, one hand still clutching his copy of the Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, but he jolted suddenly awake when Mindy returned with her mistress in tow.

"How'd it go?" Remus asked as Hope hid a wide yawn behind her hand.

"Exhausting." Hope flopped back onto the couch even as Mindy gave a small noise of disapproval, no doubt having to do with Hope wrinkling her lovely dress. "There are lots of people at galas, did you know that?"

"I've never been much of a partier," Remus replied with a small smile. "That was always James and Sirius' thing."

Hope splayed and curled her toes, but that did nothing to ease the ache they currently felt.

"Lady Malfoy wants me to join her for tea 'whenever I am free'," Hope said, raising her fingers to indicate the witch's exact quote.

"Lady Malfoy as in Narcissa Malfoy?" Remus inquired, a frown brushing across his lips as he remembered the slender blonde from the Black family.

"Yes, why?"

Remus couldn't remember an instance where Narcissa was actually as cruel as her husband, and he could recall seeing her walking away from Lily a few times with her homework tucked in her arms.

"I know she's married to a Death Eater," Hope added quickly, waving a careless hand as she did so.

"I would have thought that that would have been a major turnoff for you," Remus responded with a bit of surprise.

Of course, Hope hated Death Eaters. She could find no reason to give those who followed a man such as Voldemort a single kind thought or even a benefit of the doubt. Death Eaters caused more chaos than Voldemort himself, if the accounts in books concerning the First Wizarding War were to be believed. The Dark Mark incited a violent anger within herself and she had seen a hint of it when Lucius Malfoy's arm of his robes had ridden up.

"The Death Eater is," Hope conceded, "but his wife isn't…she's a Black and so am I."

Remus wondered how far she would go for her family, whether or not the relation was as small as it was between herself and Narcissa Malfoy. But, then again, it wasn't as though she had a bad head on her shoulders.

"I'm going to go and head up to bed," Hope decided, stifling another wide yawn, "G'night."

"Night," Remus called after her as Hope took the steps two at a time, despite the ache in her heels from the shoes she'd been wearing all night.

She would have liked nothing more than to have gone straight to sleep, but even more than that, Hope wanted a nice long soak in the tub, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

Hope settled into the warm water with a sigh, resting her head against the wall as she allowed the water to ease the dull throbbing of her body and a sigh parted from her lips.

All in all, the night wasn't actually all that terrible, in fact, it was almost nice, barring the fact that they'd been, for the most part, surrounded by many Death Eaters and others who didn't approve of Daphne and Hope's choice of company.

But Daphne and Hope didn't particularly care what they thought, Hermione was far more fun to be around than the stiffs with their large estates and monetary value (even though Daphne and Hope could technically fall into that range as well).

Unfortunately, they never did get the chance to see what made champagne taste so good, but that hardly mattered.

Daphne had to keep chasing after her younger sister who had a rather impressive vanishing act, if Hope said so herself.

Hope herself was approached by several young heirs for a dance. Hope wasn't a very good dancer, but it would have been rude to refuse, so she did so, reluctantly (incredibly reluctantly in the case of Heir Marcus Flint, given his response to Hermione earlier that night).

Hermione had been asked to dance too, much to her shock and pleasure by a boy brown hair and pale eyes that Hope didn't catch the name of. She wasn't much better in her dancing when compared to Hope, but the smile on her face made up for it.

The water sloshed a bit in the bath as she stood, wrapping a towel around herself, reaching for the nightclothes that Mindy had carefully laid folded out on top of the toilet.

Hope never would have thought going to a gala was such a trial, but maybe that was because she'd never been to one before. Of course, the Muggle school she had attended had parties for the kids, but Hope had never been allowed to go, nor had she felt any inclination.

She was sure that she would be content to remain inside her little bubble (or large bubble, depending on how you looked at it), after all, she still hadn't completely explored Potter Manor yet, and she and Remus had another two weeks until they started their courses for second year (which was far more exciting than having nothing to do for the next two weeks).

Hope tangled her fingers into her hair, turning it a bright blonde in order to see better as she raked a brush through the locks, smoothing the knots that had formed during her time at the gala.

"Being an heir is harder than it looks," Hope muttered to herself as she set down the brush in order to brush her teeth before throwing herself into bed, cocooning herself in the warmth of her many blankets (Hope discovered very early on that the cold seemed to seek her out) and she shut her eyes.

And sleep fell upon her almost as soon as they were shut, and Hope slept blissfully.

"What do werewolves do on holiday anyways?"

Hope and Remus were out in the cold, far out to almost the edge of Potter lands, with Remus holding an axe to chop down the tree they were going to put in the drawing room, which of course Hope would be choosing.

Remus spared her a wry grin as they pushed through a thicket of branches that scratched Hope's cheek when she walked too close. "I imagine we do what everyone else does on holiday; enjoy festive cheer."

Hope rolled her eyes for good measure. "I mean," she began, clearing her throat loudly and pressing on despite the cold, her curiosity rearing its head once more, "do you spend it with anyone?"

They passed over a slippery patch of ice and Remus held out his hand to Hope and she took it gratefully, swinging over ice and onto snow.

Mindy had gotten her some new boots for the cold weather and Hope had fallen in love with them; they kept out the cold, leaving her toes toasty warm (which also could have been a spell, but Hope couldn't be sure).

"Well, all my close friends are either dead, or in prison, so no."

Hope frowned at him, biting lightly on the corner of her lip. "What about your parents?" she asked.

Remus gave her a small smile. "My mother died some years ago, and I've been estranged from my father for years."

"Oh," Hope said articulately. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Remus assured her with a small squeeze of the hand, "it's been years."

Hope tilted her head, thinking hard for a few moments, before asking a completely different question. "Why is the ministry so anti-werewolf?"

Remus started in surprise at such a question, so much so that he almost tripped over his own two feet, barely managing to right himself. It wasn't a bad question to ask; it wasn't intentionally malicious, it was honest curiosity. "Werewolves, as I'm sure you've read about, have a bit of a bad reputation; we're viewed as mindless monsters. People who have discovered of my…affliction have often refused to speak with me afterwards. Werewolves are viewed as monsters, that's why we are required to inform the ministry of our ailment, so they can monitor us at all times."

Hope muttered something particularly vulgar under her breath, making Remus toss her a smile that was half amused and half exasperated. "Yes, I believe that was Lily's response as well when she figured it out."

Hope's eyes blinked owlishly at him. "Really?"

"Yes," Remus' voice rang with fond remembrance as they came upon a thick grouping of evergreen trees, some small enough that their height was on par with Hope's, others reaching high above even Remus' head, "your mother was both singularly gifted and uncommonly kind, and it was in balancing those two sides of her that she comforted me despite the knowledge of me condition." He smiled at Lily's daughter. "You are like her in that aspect."

Hope's whole face flooded with colour and she ducked her head quickly in an effort to keep him from seeing, but it didn't work very well, judging by the soft laugh that parted from his lips.

"I don't think so," Hope muttered, "I think you've got the wrong girl…I'm not gifted, I'm average, at best."

"Oh, really?" Remus asked, arching an eyebrow as he did so. "I don't know all that many witches that would compress two years of study into one and come out with at least a pass in each subject."

Hope scowled at him. "You're just trying to make this difficult for me, aren't you?"

This time his laugh echoed around them. "Of course not!" he countered with a wide grin. "But your determination to be humble is—"

"I am not being humble!"

"Oh, yes you are!"

The red on her cheeks had leeched into her hair, turning it from black to auburn. "There's being humble," Hope said, jabbing her finger into his chest, "and then there's being truthful!"

"Sometimes they coincide with one another," Remus responded with a wink.

Hope threw up her arms in aggravation.

"But I am glad you do not judge people as others would do in your place."

Hope quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion. "Now what are you going on about?"

"A Half-blood heir that makes friends with a Muggle-born and an heiress to a Grey family is a rare one indeed," Remus felt the need to point out, but he was smiling, so Hope knew it wasn't meant to incite any negative feeling. "Lily didn't approve of prejudice either; she was more for unity than anything else."

That wouldn't have surprised Hope.

"And how'd that go?" Hope asked dryly, a few loose strands of hair being whipped by the wind as she searched for an appropriate tree to mount in the drawing room.

Remus gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "She had a number of friends in other houses; she was best friends with Severus –Professor Snape– up until fifth year—"

"Professor Snape?" Hope asked with befuddlement, the name barely familiar to her.

Remus' mouth twisted into a grimace that earned him a strange look from Hope. "He's the potion-master at Hogwarts, he'll be teaching you and the girls Potions next year."

Hope's eyebrows drew together. "And he was a friend of Mum's?"

"At a time," Remus conceded, "I believe they lived close to one another."

"What about Dad?" Hope asked.

"Well," Remus coughed, "they had a number of differences of opinions on a certain number of subjects…you could say even that they were enemies."

"Oh," Hope said, her eyes glued to a certain tree that was tall, but not overly so, which meant it'd be able to fit in the manor, which was really all that Hope wanted. "I like this one," she added, pointing at the tree in question.

"All right, then," Remus said, hefting the axe, "let's get to work."

It took a surprising amount of effort in order to cut the tree down, but it was the one Hope wanted, and with the pair alternating when the other got tired, it took less time to cut down, but then they had to carry it back to the manor.

Obviously, there was a bit of magic involved, or the tree would still have been stuck where they'd cut it down.

And once they'd gotten it mounted in an empty corner of the drawing room, both leaned back to admire it.

It was taller than Remus, a bit taller than him actually, which meant the lights and ornaments that they would string on it would have to be done with magic, but Hope didn't care.

There was a delirious happiness bubbling up inside her; she had never celebrated Christmas before, or indeed had anyone to celebrate it with. This was a first for her.

"I'll go look for ornaments!" she said brightly before dashing off to search the house.

It seemed likely that they would be kept in the attic (wasn't that where Christmas things went when they weren't in use?), and it took short work for Hope to discover where she could enter up into it, and then she was climbing up the ladder, lifting her wand over her head to illuminate the darkness.

There were lots of white sheets covering spare furniture that had been stashed up in the attic.

Hope had seen early on that there were no portraits of the Potter family members, it seemed that they kept them in the attic; truly humble, weren't they? The sheets hid them from view and Hope didn't feel the need to lift them to see the images that lay beneath.

There were boxes and chests, a number of them. Hope frowned as she pulled a sheet off one, undoing the clasp and throwing it open. There were books within, which confused her, because shouldn't the books in the house be in the library?

She traced her fingers over the crest stamped into the front page of the first book she grabbed, the Black family…Dorea must have brought these books with her when she married Charlus…

"Did you find them?" a voice called from below and Hope jolted violently, shoving the book back into the chest and shutting it abruptly.

"Not yet," Hope called back.

"Do you want me to come up?" Remus inquired and Hope was quick to shoot him down.

"No way," she said, "you were complaining about your knee this morning, you're not coming up the ladder."

She could imagine him rolling his eyes, even if she couldn't see him, but Hope was more physically able than Remus by a long shot.

Hope searched the boxes quickly before coming across one that bore Christmas trees on the outside. She opened it and grinned at the sight of the various ornaments within.

"Found it!" she called, dragging it towards the opening in the floor before carefully lowering it to Remus' arms.

The funny thing about Hope and Remus was that they could use all the magic they wanted, but preferred to do most things manually; cutting down trees, carrying boxes. Remus had gotten used to not using his magic so obviously from taking a number of jobs in the Muggle world when ones in the Wizarding world fell through (which occurred often, given his status as a werewolf could be easily checked), and Hope just preferred to do things herself.

Perhaps that was because she'd been doing it for so long at the Dursleys that it had simply become habit, but Hope didn't mind; she liked doing things the old-fashioned way.

They brought the box to rest on top of the couch, pulling the lid free and taking in the contents.

There were an awful lot of baubles, but they were in a wide variety of colours, so Hope couldn't fault them there, and there were stars, and spire-shaped ones as well. There were a few shaped like things that were a part of a Quidditch game (which Hope knew startlingly very little about).

"So this is a Snitch," Remus said with a small laugh, noticing Hope's confusion, "it's the ball that the Seeker catches."

It was a golden orb with fluttering wings and it was moving as if enchanted, which seemed incredibly likely given the house they were living in.

Hope hung it on the tree. "And the other ones?" she asked.

He pulled out a large red ball. "This is the Quaffle, the Chasers threw it around…that was your father's position."

"Chaser…" Hope smoothed her fingers over the contours of the crimson orb that fit easily into her hand. "Was he any good?" she asked, looking up to meet Remus' eye.

His lips curled into a half-smile. "Yes, he was, very good, actually. He probably could have gone on to play professionally, but he wanted to be an Auror."

"An Auror," Hope repeated, "that's a magical version of the police, right?"

"Yes," Remus bobbed his head in agreement, "but he never got the chance to do so."

Hope's hand tightened around the ornament. "What d'you mean?"

His smile grew sad. "At the time, your parents were in hiding because of Voldemort, neither of them really got the chance to…" His words fell short and Hope found she didn't actually need to hear the words.

Her parents never really had the chance to live, that was the honest truth. They were barely in their twenties when they'd died and left Hope all alone, but Hope didn't blame them for that.

After all, it wasn't as though they chose to die.

Hope thought about the matter a great deal, and she was certain that if her parents had any choice, they would have chosen to be alive, to be here, with her.

She chewed on the inside of cheek for a moment, blinking furiously before taking the Quaffle ornament and hanging it on the tree and continuing as though nothing had happened.

The Slytherin family line was far more extensive than Hope had originally thought, which was why on the Winter Solstice Hope found herself unrolling the family tapestry that had been a gift by Thanatos himself the day they'd first met.

She'd laid it out in the ballroom to ensure that there was plenty of room to see it, and that was when the tapestry widened, growing larger and including many different names and lines connecting to one another.

But it was always best to start at the top.

She remembered tracing her fingers over the names at the top when Thanatos had first given her the tapestry: Salazar Slytherin and Morea Avis.

From their names were two lines to their children Nelda and Adrian Slytherin. Nelda's was bound to a name, Damian Blackwood, and then to their son Sylvester Slytherin (Sylvester? Wow, that had to be a mouthful).

Morea, Nelda, and Damian all had the same death dates, but Salazar and Sylvester and Adrian did not, though Adrian appeared to have passed a month after the previous three…perhaps a tragedy have occurred in the family, Hope didn't know, Salazar's journal stopped far before the death date marked.

Sylvester's name was connected to that of a woman named Aislin Dionia from who he bore two sons.

It seemed like the Slytherin family was quite extensive at first glance. So many names spanning off in different directions, branching and forking, but it seemed most of the names ended without children to carry on their legacy.

A sad testament to the state of her family, Hope knew.

The direct line started with the name Slytherin, but it eventually became Peverell after a daughter borne to the line married into another. Their child, Adeliade Peverell was the one whom had borne Thanatos three sons.

The eldest, Antioch Peverell died far before his brothers and he left no heirs.

The youngest, Ignotus Peverell, was the one whom Hope was directly related to, through the Potter line.

The middle son, Cadmus Peverell, was the person from which the Gaunt line came, ending with a single name, Tom Riddle Jr.

The name Tom Riddle Jr. was one of the few names that had an added name beneath it, and it was a name that made Hope's heart positively stop in her chest.

Lord Voldemort was written in emerald thread, not unlike Hope's own Elpis Slytherin. The colour fled on fast wings from Hope's cheeks as her eyes focused on the words, denial and incomprehension at war inside her.

It wasn't possible. There was no way that a member of her own family would kill her parents!

It had to be wrong! It had to be!

Hope couldn't see straight, her blood boiling in her veins. She didn't even realize until Remus thundered into the room with his wand drawn and eyes wild that she had released a scream filled with pain and anger, the likes of which she had never previously expressed.

She couldn't deal with the idea of being related to her parents' murderer and she clung to Remus with tears pouring from her eyes with no sign of stopping.

"This family is cursed," Hope said numbly the next day over her groaning stomach when Remus entered her darkened room with a tray of soup courtesy of an anxious Mindy.

"Your family is not cursed, Hope," Remus disagreed, setting the tray on her bedside table to look upon the ten year old witch.

She certainly looked ill enough to stay in bed for the past day, but Remus suspected it was mostly her being ill with herself.

"What do you call it when your distant cousin kills your parents and tries to kill you?" Hope asked despondently.

"Well, I'd call it complicated, for one thing," Remus conceded, sitting in the chair he dragged to her bedside, "but that doesn't mean you're cursed."

A scowl was thrown his direction, but he disregarded it with relative ease.

"Sometimes bad things happen to good people," the werewolf said gently, "and you can't say your family is cursed because of one bad apple."

But Hope wasn't so sure, after all, people didn't say Lord Voldemort, too afraid to even speak it; there were bad apples, yes, but then there were apples that were rotten to the core.

"We can't help who we're related to," he reminded her.

"Or the Fates are just very cruel," Hope considered, which seemed likely, given their track record.

Remus gave her an exasperated look that she had no way of knowing was an expression that he had given her father time and time again.

"You need to eat Hope," he told her firmly. "And you can't tell me that you're not hungry."

Her cheeks coloured pink and jutted out her lower lip in what was clearly an attempt at a defiant expression, but it stopped short of being anything other than adorable.

"I can't keep food down," she muttered finally when she realized that he wasn't going to back down.

"Yes, you can, you just don't want to," Remus countered firmly.

The sick feeling she'd had in the pit of her stomach at the thought of being related to her parents' murderer had only abated slightly in the night, and she was hungry, but any of the food sent up always seemed to end up in the toilet.

Hope eyed the bowl of soup he'd brought up on the tray cautiously.

"What is it?" she asked, sniffing to ascertain the ingredients' origins, but it didn't quite work for her.

"Chowder," Remus said as Hope pulled herself reluctantly into a sitting position on the bed to allow him to place the tray on her lap.

"Oh," she said simply, stirring a spoon into the thick mixture idly before spooning a small mouthful to her lips and swallowing.

Remus waited, half expecting her to gag, but it seemed her roiling stomach had ceased.

"Tell Mindy thank you," Hope said after a moment, taking another spoonful of the soup and Remus couldn't help but smile.

It was a commonly known fact that Hope Potter loved mythology, well, commonly if you knew her very well, but that number was rather small, even she had to admit.

Mythology was the first thing that had captured her attention when she was younger, and she had to concede that it was partly to do with her name.

Hope, or Elpis, was the last spirit in Pandora's pithos (because it most certainly was not a box, no matter what anyone thought), so Hope knew a thing about being named for ancient gods.

Maybe she had such a love for it because in the time before her knowledge of magic, she had been as forgotten as the old myths, and that was something she could identify with.

A sudden howl from outside jolted Hope out of her thoughts and caused her to drop her book on Ancient Greek death rites (which was decidedly a bit morbid, but Hope felt that the morbidity was negated given that she was actually related to Death).

The full moon of December just so happened to end up two days before Christmas, which must've been really terrible, but it was better than Christmas itself (Hope suspected it more had to do with Remus not wanting to ruin her first Christmas as a family).

Hope was currently in the drawing room with a thick afghan thrown over her legs with books on both her sides.

She was attempting to remain awake with Remus, but she wasn't exactly sure how long that was going to last, so she was reading to keep herself busy.

The book on death rites lay where she had dropped it, so she reached instead for a book on Ancient Egypt.

Hieroglyphics were a bit difficult to Hope, but, then again, she was learning Greek, so it probably seemed harder than it was because she was diverting her attention to Greek.

What she found the most difficult to wrap her head around was the fact that there were so many different beliefs concerning the afterlife…so who was right?

"If the Greeks have you and Hades and the Egyptians have Osiris and Anubis," Hope had once asked Thanatos, "so who's actually in charge of the dead?"

Thanatos had smiled wryly at his granddaughter. "I believe that would depend upon who they believe in."

"Does it matter?" Hope had asked.

"Oh, yes," Thanatos had replied solemnly. "You will find it matters a great deal…you see, there are many beliefs spanning across the world concerning what happens after someone dies, and what matters, in the end, is what you believe…tell me, what do you think will happen when you die?"

She could have sworn his bottomless-pits-for-eyes were glinting, but Hope had never really considered how she would die. That wasn't the immortality of youth talking, more of Hope couldn't be bothered to consider it at the moment.

Hope arched an eyebrow. "My soul will take me to the Underworld to be judged by the Judges of the Dead, and if I fancy it I might try for rebirth and be washed in the River Lethe."

Thanatos smirked. "If you fancy it?"

Hope shrugged her shoulders. "It's pretty up in the air right now; maybe when I'm older I'll know whether or not to be reborn."

Whether or not life was difficult, was what she meant.

"See, you believe in the Greek afterlife," Thanatos continued, pulling her back to the conversation they'd been having, "and many witches and wizards in the United Kingdom do as well, whether they realize it or not, but there are many gods and everyone believes in what they wish."

"What if you don't believe in anything?" Hope asked shrewdly.

"Well, that's a bit of a grey area," Thanatos conceded, scratching at his cheek awkwardly. "Generally when they die they are given a choice of which afterlife they'd prefer: Greek, Egyptian, Nordic, Christian…and the like."

The flames in the fireplace flickered and snow fell past the windows as the lycanthrope rushed past and Hope only got a glimpse of fur as he raced by.

Tonight in particular was a very cold night and Hope was certainly glad she wasn't spending it outside like Remus and was grateful when Mindy practically materialized at her side, bearing a tray holding a kettle of hot chocolate and a mug to be filled.

She poured the cup for Hope before giving it to her mistress with a small smile and Hope took it gratefully, thanking her quietly as she allowed it to warm her hands where she looped them around the cup.

When she drank it, it was like liquid heat trailing down her throat, keeping the cold that had set in at bay.

And Mindy left her to her thoughts as she dragged another of her books forward, opening it on her lap.

It was probably a better idea for Hope to try to get ahead in her studies, but Hope was easily distracted by anything related to Runes or ancient languages, and there were many studies on each subject to distract her. Besides, it kind of felt like cheating if she started learning about things before Daphne and Hermione, and she was certain her friends wouldn't appreciate it.

Luckily, there was a large number of books in the house that she had yet read and had another week to read before they started up their 'school year' again, which would mean more studying and less reading things that didn't pertain to the subject at hand.

"Mindy, why did I agree to do this?" Hope asked, not really expecting an answer when Mindy's voice filtered in from the kitchen.

"Because Mistress wanted to get ahead," she reminded her, apparently knowing where Hope's thoughts had strayed.

Hope wrinkled her nose, but Mindy wasn't wrong.

But whoever thought that compressing two years into one was a good idea was very wrong.

Not that Hope would ever mention it; she could handle it.

A howl could be heard outside.

Probably…

"I have never built a snowman before," Hope declared on Christmas Eve over breakfast as Remus took a bite of his Scotch Eggs.

Hope couldn't remember the first time the Dursleys had celebrated Christmas, her memory wasn't that great from back then, but she knew she had never been allowed to celebrate it.

No presents for orphan Hope.

"Never?" Remus asked carefully as Hope smeared jam across her toast, taking a handsome bite.

Hope shook her head, swallowing thickly. "Never," she agreed before quickly adding, "and I've never been in a snowball fight."

Now that was the true travesty, James Potter's daughter not being in a snowball fight before. Remus could remember his Christmas breaks spent with the Marauders at Hogwarts, or sometimes here at Potter Manor with James' family, and snowball fights were always involved.

"Did you want to?" Remus asked, looking to her over the Daily Prophet that he had just rolled up.

She tapped her fingers against the wood of the table with seeming disinterest, chewing on the corner of her lip and playing with her cup of pumpkin juice.

"Well, I wouldn't mind it," she muttered more to herself than to him, but it wasn't hard for him to hear her words with his heightened senses, barely hours after the full moon.

"But the full moon was yesterday," Hope said quickly, "so it's not like you'd want to—"

Sometimes Remus wondered who was actually in charge of whom in Potter Manor (the answer was neither since Hope was technically legally under the care of Mindy since Remus, being a werewolf, was not permitted guardianship over Hope).

"I feel fine, actually," he assured her with a smile, "and I wouldn't mind building a snowman with you, or having a snowball fight."

Hope positively beamed and within an hour they were outside in thick coats (cloaks weren't very insulating in the cold weather), hats, and gloves.

Making snowmen was more difficult work than it seemed and Hope became more and more doubtful that Remus knew what he was doing.

"Are you sure you know how to make a snowman, Remus?" she questioned where she as fisting snow into a ball.

"There isn't all that much to building a snowman," Remus assured her, though it didn't seem to be working for him very well. His growing ball of snow seemed to be on the edge of a collapse when Hope put her white orb of snow on top of his, but it held. "See?"

The doubt coloured Hope's face even as she pressed snow together to make the snowman's head.

"I don't think it's going to hold it," she said, holding the snow in her arms as she looked at the partially completed snowman.

"It'll hold," Remus said with certainty.

Hope suspected magic was involved when the snow didn't cave under the weight of the head.

Remus grinned widely at their handiwork before giving a good-to-honest yelp when a small ball of snow collided with his face, and then war was on.

Remus ended up taking her to a place called Hogsmeade for lunch.

Hope winced in the sudden brightness from the sun shining down on the pure white snow.

"What exactly is Hogsmeade?" she asked, wrinkling her nose as she kept one arm around his elbow.

"It's a small village outside of Hogwarts, the only all-Wizarding village in Britain, actually," Remus explained.

Confusion warped Hope's face. "There's only one all-Wizarding village in Britain?" she asked.

"Well, most of them tend to have a Magical and a Muggle side," Remus explained with a small smile, and Hope gave a small 'Oh' in reply.

"What's all in Hogsmeade?" she asked instead as the snow crunched under their boots as they walked, her eyes –currently a pale blue, like the colour of the sky above– glancing over the assortment of shops.

"Hm…over there—" Remus pointed with his free hand to Hope's right, "—is Dervish and Banges, they repair and sell magical items, then there's Gladrags Wizardwear, a clothes shop with some very…eclectic taste, I must say—"

Hope stifled her giggles behind her hand as Remus gestured to another patch of buildings.

"Then there's Honeydukes, which is the best place to buy sweets…Zonko's Joke Shop, now, that was your father's favourite."

"Of course it was," Hope laughed, now intimately familiar with her father's love for a good prank.

She couldn't say that she was unlike her father in that aspect. She had changed the colour of her hair every day of the week in order to aggravate her teachers and the Dursleys, who were less than pleased, and she had once made her science experiment go from calm blue to fiery red and shoot out of the test tube like lava from a volcano (of course, it wasn't as though there was any kind of acid in it, so no one was harmed and Hope avoided getting a detention narrowly, but after that the other students refused to partner with her, which was fine with Hope).

"And here were are," Remus added, pulling her from her thoughts, stopping short in front of a larger building bearing the legend: The Three Broomsticks.

"The Three Broomsticks?" Hope read off the name. "What's this place?"

"It's an inn," Remus said, "but it's also a pub with some great fish and chips."

Hope arched an eyebrow as Remus pulled the door open and waved her inside, blinking a few times to get used to the lower amount of light in the pub than was outside.

The first thing she noticed was that the pub was very full, but not overly so that it would be difficult to find a seat. There was a constant hum of talking, but Hope didn't mind the atmosphere too terribly.

"Come on, let's find a seat," Remus said and she followed after him eagerly.

"I'll be right with you!" a voice called over the noise as Hope and Remus found a small booth, pulling off their thick jackets in the warmth of the inn.

"That was probably Rosmerta," Remus said, noticing Hope glance up as she sat down on the cushion opposite Remus, "she's the landlady in charge of the Three Broomsticks."

Hope nodded in understanding, taking a menu from the side. "Is fish and chips the best thing to eat?"

There seemed to be a bit more variety than Remus had implied.

"You can always trust that fish and chips will taste good, no matter where you are," Remus said with certainty, making Hope smile as the landlady approached with an easy smile.

She had a pretty face with twinkling eyes and lips that drew into a wide smile when she saw Remus.

"Bless my soul," she said, "if it isn't Remus Lupin."

"Hello, Rosmerta," Remus replied just as easily, "how are you?"

"Oh, fine and dandy," she assured him, "haven't seen you around in awhile…is this your daughter?"

Hope blinked in surprise at the assessment before shaking her head quickly. "I'm his niece," she supplied, "Elpis."

"Well, hello, Elpis," Rosmerta said, sounding Hope's ancestral name carefully, "see anything you want to eat?"

All in all, Hope thought it was a very good choice of a place to eat for lunch.

On Christmas Day, Hope awoke in a startled frenzy, which was a first for her, to be sure.

Never before had Hope had a reason to be excited for the holiday, but the mere sight of the presents resting under the tree, increasing over the course of the past week, was more than enough to get her excited.

Hope practically flew out of bed, donning her cozy bathrobe in her haste before whipping out of the room and racing towards Remus'.

"Remus! Remus!"

She shook him, trying to rouse him, and Remus stirred long last, raising a hand to rub at his eyes.

"Hope?" he murmured fuzzily. "What—?"

"Presents!" Hope answered grinning widely before tugging on his arm. "Come on, Remus! It's Christmas!"

Remus blinked his eyes open, wincing at the light streaming in through the parted curtains that Hope had ripped open a few moments previously. Hope had turned red-haired for the occasion, making her resemblance to her mother startling, but Remus tried not to think about that.

"I take it you want to open presents before breakfast," he mused and Hope's hasty nod was the only answer he needed as he allowed himself to be pulled from his bed and dragged down the stairs to the drawing room, where Mindy had already set up a flickered fire that basked the room in warmth and an orange glow.

"You sit, I'll sort," Hope said in a no-nonsense tone as she pushed him in the direction of the couch before moving towards the tree.

There weren't all that many presents, given what Hope had seen Dudley receive, but she was too feverish in her happiness to care.

There were gifts from Daphne, Hermione, their respective families, Remus, and one from Gringotts (but Hope had asked them to send it, so it didn't really count as a present), Remus got much of the same, except he got a gift from Hope and not himself or Gringotts.

Then it was time to open their gifts.

Hope decided to open the adults' presents first.

From Atreus and Callista Greengrass she had received her own Wizarding chess set. The Potters actually had their own, but it had pieces made from gold and rubies, and Hope preferred pieces a little more subtle than that. As it was, the pieces that went with the board were made of black and white onyx, crafted to perfection.

It was beautiful and Hope couldn't wait to break it in.

From the Grangers she had received a number of sugar-free candies, which came as no surprise, given their occupation as dentists.

Hermione had gifted her a rather thick book on a vast number of mythologies that Hope was going to enjoy reading very much, and Daphne had found her a book on Olde Magick that dealt in the use of runes.

Her friends really did know her too well.

But when she unwrapped Remus' gift, she became a bit confused; after all, what did she need a compact mirror for?

"What's this?" she asked, lifting it carefully from the packaging, eyeing it suspiciously as though expecting it to suddenly burst into flames, but it didn't.

"It's a mirror," Remus replied with a small smirk and Hope shot him a look that said she clearly knew what it was, that wasn't really what she was asking. "It's a two-way mirror, connected to mine."

He lifted his in his hands, but it looked nothing like Hope's, appearing more like a miniature square-shaped mirror that you'd more likely to hang on the wall than stuff in your pocket.

"If you say my name, my mirror will heat up and I can answer," Remus explained.

"Oh," Hope said with dawning realization, "you mean like a mobile."

"A bit, yes," Remus agreed before nodding to the box wrapped in brown packaging that bore the Gringotts seal. "What did Gringotts send you?"

"Oh, just some stuff from my vaults," Hope said carelessly, flicking open the book that Daphne had sent her with interest.

Remus' gifts were far more bookish, including a few tweed suits that didn't have any patches on them, and some candy from Honeydukes that Hope had seen him eyeing when they'd stepped in for a brief moment.

He was taken by surprise when she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "Thank you!" she said, still bright with happiness.

Remus knew he could have told her that James had a two-way mirror with Sirius, but he tried to not think about Black if he could help it; maybe it was good that Hope wasn't plagued by thoughts of the man who was responsible for her parents' death as well as Peter's.

By her own admission, Hope was a very curious creature, and it was late in the night when Hope decided to investigate the attic a bit more thoroughly. Though, the house was technically hers, so it wasn't like Remus could tell her off from doing anything, but Hope preferred to do things on her own in the dead of night (perhaps because it was something she'd done at the Dursleys and kept up even though she didn't have to).

Hope tucked her wand behind her ear and lifted her lantern from where she had it under her bed, lighting it with a simple spell before leaving the room on silent feet.

She passed by Remus' room without even a creak, making it to the attic pull-down ladder without much trouble. If she whacked her head on the ladder, Hope would never admit it.

The ladder groaned under her weight just slightly as she pulled herself up into the attic at long last, allowing the light from the lantern to illuminate the room.

She didn't go right to the chest that she had discovered the last time she'd been up in the room, the one that belonged to Dorea Black.

There was a surprising number of furniture in the attic, though most of them were in a miniature form and held in a box that rattled when you shook it from the amount of furniture within. But Hope found one plush arm chair that was its actual size, a rusty colour of red that was really nice to sit in.

"You're coming back to my room," Hope said, plopping down in the arm chair, closing her eyes briefly, enjoying the moment before drawing herself up and searching the room once more.

There were a lot of notes concerning potion-making, proper potion-making, apparently, as the writer had insisted. The dictated name of Fleamont Potter told Hope that the writer was her great-grandfather, who had apparently invented the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, which was quite lucrative.

Hope looked over his scrawlings with interest. According to him, crushing beans with the flat side of the silver dagger released juice better, adding a clockwise stir to an anti-clockwise direction helped a potion clear faster, sprigs of peppermint were good for calming side-effects to the Elixir to Induce Euphoria (Hope suspected this was something she might have to brew in a more advanced class of Potions).

She spent more time looking over his notes than she did anything else, probably because the one subject she needed a lot of help in was Potions, and if what Fleamont had written was true, then she could use it for when class started again.

The sudden sound caused by one of the boxes Hope had moved falling from where she had perched it precariously was enough to make her jolt where she sitting, the parchment creasing under her grip as she looked around frantically for the source of the noise.

But she calmed once she realized there was nothing.

Hope stacked the packet of parchment on potion-making on top of the arm chair she was going to drag down to her room before beginning her search anew.

It wasn't really that she was looking for anything in particular, but, as it was said, it was the journey that was important, not the destination. What was really peculiar was what was shoved away up in the attic, forgotten for whatever reason.

Aside from the furniture and Fleamont's notes, Hope had found a large number of portraits, all of whose occupants were fast asleep, a shelf of books on the same kind of Olde Magick that Daphne had sent her a book on that was of great interest.

But then there was the question of why the books were tucked away, out of sight and out of mind. Olde Magick didn't seem dangerous, but what other reason could there had been for why the books were up in the attic and not in the library?

She trailed her fingers along the spines of the books, taking in the words written there before making to move towards where she remembered Dorea's chest being, when Hope's foot caught the spine of book that had apparently been shoved under a heavily-laden table.

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion as she knelt to grasp the book, pulling it out in order to read the title written in thick Celtic-style lettering across the front: Magick of the Earth.

The name underneath it was what caught Hope's attention the most: Morea Slytherin.

This was her many time great-grandmother's! But it was the only thing from the Slytherin family Hope had found in Potter Manor, which was strange to say the least, and it made Hope wonder just where anything that belonged to the Slytherin family was, apart from the vault in Gringotts (but there wasn't much other than many things of monetary value, just a few books).

Hope tried to pry open the cover, but it wouldn't budge and it seemed almost as though it was locked, but there was no mechanism to bar her from opening it, which was the strangest thing.

Something sharp pricked Hope's finger and she yelped, dropping the book and sucking on her finger where a bead of blood had appeared, but then the book opened and Hope gave it a suspicious glare.

Of course blood would have been the key; it seemed to practically be a requirement concerning anything that far back in her family line, so Hope wasn't really all that surprised.

She simply shut the book and collected Fleamont's writings and shrank the chair, calling it a night and opting to return to her room.

December was nearly over when Thanatos found the time to drop by his granddaughter's place.

It was late into the night and the fire was still going strong in the fireplace of the drawing room and Hope was curled up on the couch with a thick blanket thrown over her and a pile of books at her feet.

Thanatos allowed himself a fond smile at the sight.

Hope looked much younger when she was sleeping, the lines in her face relaxed.

She was almost nothing like the girl Thanatos had met in that library what seemed so long ago, but that was a good thing; Hope was more of who she wanted to be now than she had been then.

Interfering in the affairs of mortals was more of Zeus' thing than Thanatos', but he just couldn't resist, not after what had happened to his last descendant.

His toga brushed across the floor as he moved to sit on the floor, near her head, lifting one of the books with a careful hand.

He recognized Salazar Slytherin's handwriting, though the wizard had refused to enter the Underworld, becoming a spectre and slinking into the shadows. Thanatos suspected that he had chosen it as a way to atone for everything that had gone wrong in his family, all the mistakes he had made, but Thanatos was sure that Morea wished for him by her side where she had been in Elysium for many centuries now (and Salazar had more than earned his place, given all that he had accomplished in his life).

A page caught his eye as he thumbed through and he paused to look over it. On it was a sketch that could have only been done by Salazar himself, of a truly beautiful young woman with a secretive smile and bright eyes, her hair a tangle of curls that was a look Hope had clearly adopted.

Thanatos remembered the day Morea Slytherin entered into his domain, only roughly a few moments after her distraught daughter and son-in-law. But Thanatos thought Hope was a bit more like Nelda Slytherin than Morea, with the free spirit she possessed.

Hope stirred faintly in her sleep, and Thanatos could see her eyes moving under her eyelids, still in the cusp of a dream when she finally opened her eyes, blinking hazily and rubbing at her eyes before jumping wildly when she realized she wasn't alone.

"Son of Zeus!" she swore, reeling backwards wildly.

A smirk painted across his lips at the swear. "Not quite," he said, "my father was quite a bit older than Zeus." Being Darkness himself gave Erebus primordial status.

Hope glared venomously at him, her hair lightening to a pale ginger. "That's got nothing to do with anything! Why do you always have to freak me out when you show up?" she demanded.

His smirk widened as he recalled when he'd appeared when Hope's friends were over, scaring them when he spoke out of the darkness. "It is a unique talent to be cultivated, dearest," he assured her.

She just scowled at him. "Why didn't you tell me I'm related to the man that killed my parents?" she asked him without much preamble, and Thanatos surmised that the thought had been very much weighing on her mind.

"I can't tell you everything," Thanatos replied, arching an eyebrow for good measure. "There are some things you must come to on your own."

The mutinous expression on Hope's face didn't abate. "But you knew."

"Yes," Thanatos sighed sadly, "I knew. But I cannot say that it was unsurprising, given the Slytherin family's previous tragedy."

Confusion marred Hope's brow. "Tragedy?" she repeated. "What tragedy?"

Thanatos shut the book, replacing it on the ground. "Salazar Slytherin had a son named Adrian, and he went too far and delved too deep into the Dark Arts. They overtook him and drove him mad…he was determined to kill his family so that only he remained…"

What had occurred was startlingly similar to what had happened on the night of October 1, 1981.

"Nelda and Damian tried to ward him off and Morea chose to protect her grandchild at the expense of her own life," Thanatos said solemnly and all the colour fled from Hope's face as she gaped at him. "Salazar arrived to find the last of his family dead at the hands of his only son, with the exception of his grandson…he dispatched him in a fit of rage."

How horrible! Hope had thought it was more likely that the death dates were on the same day because an illness had struck them down, but this was much worse.

"Let this serve as a lesson to you," Thanatos told her softly, "be careful of the magic you learn of; do not let it consume you."

And Hope could only nod stiffly as he stood, his cloak rippling behind him, made of a strange material that seemed almost invisible to Hope's eyes.

"Now, all morbidity aside," Thanatos continued, "I have a gift for you."

"A gift?" Hope asked as he pulled the cloak from his shoulders to throw it over Hope's and she looked upon it in awe as she disappeared from view under it. "What is it?"

"It is my invisibility cloak," Thanatos said with a certain level of pride. "I gifted it to Ignotus some time ago and it has passed down his line to James before it vanished…it was given to someone for safekeeping, but I managed to track it down." He gave her a small smile. "Consider it a Christmas present from your absent grandfather."

And Hope hugged him to tightly it was as though she didn't feel the cold radiating from his skin.

Very soon Albus Dumbledore would discover that James Potter's invisibility cloak had disappeared, and that would make him very uneasy.

And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.

AN:If you'll all recall, I did swap Fleamont and Euphemia with Charlus and Dorea mostly because Serpent Tongue and Looking Beyond came out before J.K. Rowling released the information about the Potters, just to clear up any confusion.

Someone also suggested on tumblr that Snape might have heard some of what he wrote in his Advanced Potion-making from James, since he was the son of a potioneer, so I kind of incorporated that into this chapter.

As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

*Chapter 7*: Flying Through Second Year

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Seven: Flying Through Second Year

AN: Shoutout to Muswell and Shifja for correcting me on Great Britain vs. Britain. I should point out that I am an American, so if you see me flub anything to do with Britain or Scotland, please let me know, because the chances are that I don't realize I'm doing it.

And since someone was confused about the timing: PS: Year 3, CoS: Year 4, PoA: Year 5, GoF: Year 6, OotP: Year 7

By the time January rolled around, Hope was more than ready to start Second Year.

"My school doesn't start up for another two weeks," Hermione informed her and Daphne brightly when they met up for their first lesson since the holiday, which was Transfiguration, and involved turning beetles into buttons, "so I can get a head-start on magical studies!"

"I still think anyone would be crazy to do this and Muggle School at the same time," Daphne said, shaking her head for good measure. "I'd probably die if it was me."

"Don't be overdramatic," Hope said, nudging the blonde in the side with her elbow before lifting her wand to attempt the incantation.

"Coleoptera Buto!" Hope intoned carefully as her beetle made a valiant escape across the table. The beetle morphed for the most part into a button, with the exception that it had legs, and it used them to scuttle over the wood as Hope frowned and Hermione giggled.

Of course, Hermione already had the spell down. She had gotten it down perfectly on her third try and was now working on the counter-spell to reverse the enchantment, turning the button back into a beetle. It was a bit harder to manage, but she was still farther along than either of her friends.

"So," Daphne said airily, "do anything fun for Christmas?"

Hope shrugged. "I built a snowman with Remus, Grandfather stopped by, oh, and I found out that I'm related to the wizard that killed my parents."

Daphne's beetle managed to scurry off of the table as both she and Hermione stared at the green-eyed friend. "You –what?"

"Voldemort," Hope said, "or Tom Riddle, as that is his name, you know, I think I'm going to start calling him Tom, it's much less impressive than Lord Voldemort, if you ask me."

"You can't just drop that on us like that!" Daphne jabbed her wand in Hope's direction and Hope blinked at the silver and green sparks that shot from the end, just missing her.

"Well, I figured the best way to do it would be to just blurt it out," Hope responded, unperturbed by her friend's response.

"You're related to Voldemort?" Hermione demanded, gaping at her. "How?"

"Well, see, I'm related to a woman named Adeliade Peverell who had three sons by Grandfather," Hope explained, ticking off the names on her fingers, "Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus. Antioch had no children, and I'm the last of Ignotus' line, and Cadmus' ended with the Gaunts, with a woman named Merope Gaunt having a son named Tom Riddle, who eventually came to be known as Lord Voldemort."

Her two friends were quite stupefied by the explanation and Hope blew out a short breath, blowing the loose curl that had fallen into her eyes out of the way.

Well, it was better to get it over with quickly.

"And you're telling me that that didn't freak you out?" Daphne asked, still looking a bit aghast.

"I sulked for awhile," Hope said, sparing a scowl towards her friend when she began to snigger, "but we can't help who we're related to."

"Isn't that the truth," Daphne said, still sniggering while Hermione looked on in confusion.

Hermione poked Hope's arm, stage-whispering in her direction. "What exactly is she talking about?"

"I honestly have no idea," Hope replied, expelling a loud sigh from her mouth as she did so.

"Oh, you know, it's just that all Pure-blood families are interrelated, so, technically, we're all related to people we probably wouldn't want to be." Daphne shook her head for good measure.

Hope gave Hermione a despondent stare. "You have no idea how lucky you are to be Muggle-born and not have to deal with all this drama."

But Hermione felt as though drama was a relative term. Her mother's parents were dead and had been for years, the same was with her father and he was estranged from his sister's family concerning the matter of her grandparent's will, that had apparently favoured their first born son over their second born daughter.

Hope's beetle lost a few legs and looked almost entirely like a button, but she still had some work to do before it would come out perfect.

"I think everyone's got a bit of drama in their family," Hermione said with a shrug of her own. "There's really no helping it."

"I suppose not," Hope muttered downheartedly, poking her scuttling button. "But what about you, Daphne?"

The blonde-haired witch blinked owlishly at both girls. "What about me?" she asked flummoxed; well, they had gotten a bit off topic.

"What'd you do for Christmas?" Hermione piped up helpfully.

"Oh, we went to see Nana," Daphne said, waving a careless hand.

Her grandmother was very lax about tradition, which was one of the things Daphne liked about her. Lady Danae Anastas always insisted her granddaughters call her Nana as opposed to Grandmother, as their mother had attempted to insist upon when they were younger, but Nana stuck and Callista had to give up.

"She drove Father up the wall, it was great."

Hope couldn't stifle her sniggers.

Charms, Hope found later that week, wasn't as difficult as it had been when they had first started, though that was possibly because they'd been doing it for half a year now, so they understood using charms a bit better now. Of course, they were far from being experts, but at least they were farther along than expected of their year-mates.

Remus gathered them in the ballroom, which was easily the largest room in the manor, and, as such, was the room they used for practicing spells that didn't involve enchanting certain objects.

"Today, I am going to teach you the Disarming Charm," Remus told them and the girls looked to each other eagerly. "Now, the incantation is quite simple. Repeat after me: Expelliarmus."

"Expelliarmus," the girls repeated, sounding out the spell carefully, especially given what had happened the last time someone had incorrectly spoken the incantation to a spell; Daphne had reduced a pillow to cinders.

"Good," Remus said, "now the movement of the wand is a bit like making a swirl with your wand."

He made the motion with his wand and the girls repeated the movement.

"Practice on your own for fifteen minutes, then I'll come back to check on you."

That was usually what he did concerning teaching new spells to his charges, considering the unorthodox environment they were currently in for attempting to squeeze two years of study into one.

"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione's wand shot out of her hand to clatter on the floor close to Hope's feet and the dark-haired witch knelt to grab it and hold it out to her friend as she moved forward to take it back.

"Okay, so what's the deal with avoiding Herbology?" Daphne asked as Hermione tried her hand at disarming Hope.

"Well, the greenhouse is a bit…overgrown," Hope said as her wand gave a sharp tug, before remaining in her hand. "My great-grandfather Fleamont used to take care of it, but after he died, Grandfather Charlus never really managed to keep it up and Dad definitely didn't."

Overgrown was a term that Hope used loosely, honestly it looked as though the plants had taken over the greenhouse and it was going to take some serious effort to get it to look the way it should again. They probably could have cleared it out a few months back when they'd first started classes, but First Year Herbology didn't require as much as Second Year Herbology.

"Expelliarmus!"

Hope's wand flew out of her hand and Hermione barely managed to catch it before handing it back to her with a small smile before they switched to Daphne and Hermione practicing.

Maybe she and Remus would work on the greenhouse over the weekend when they actually had the time to do so, but Hope also wanted to take the time to read through her book on Earth Magick, which was about as fascinating as Blood Magick, if not more so.

But she kept those facts to herself; she knew how Blood Magick was viewed by others and she didn't know how Remus would react to Earth Magick.

As usual, the lantern by Hope's bedside was lit, the light from the candle within flickering. The lamp probably would have illuminated better, but Hope didn't want so much light, especially so late at night, which was harsh and bright against her eyes.

Hope pulled the book towards her, the one that she'd found in the attic concerning Earth Magick, opening its heavy cover and creasing back the first page that bore the Slytherin crest and the title and name of the author in slanted, curling script that could have only belonged to Morea herself.

An Introduction to Earth Magick

The obscurity of Earth Magick leads to many misconceptions, and such has always been the case. And many fear that which they cannot understand. Some consider this magick Dark due to its many possibilities, which can lead to being Dark, if used incorrectly. However, Earth Magick was the first kind of magick that was used by mortal-kind. Drawing power from one's surroundings was the mark of a great master, but times are changing, and what was once considered great has been scorned and forgotten.

Earth Magick is the centre of all great magicks. It requires no wand, though many have used staffs to centralize the power of the magick, it is not a necessity. A great master of Earth Magick has no need for a staff, and no need for an incantation.

Though this magick is very powerful, there is no denying its unruly nature. But all magick are difficult to control to control at first, and the more ancient the magick is, the more effort there must be given.

Hope traced her fingers over the careful lettering and the sketches that had been etched into the pages. Morea had drawn the image of a staff, one that Hope presumed to have been the witch's before her death. The wood was twisted and winding, holding a gem of sorts trapped within the woodwork.

This magick is considered more dangerous than others because it can draw power from the user's very soul. It was the first of what is considered Soul Magick, a magick that has always been regarded with the deepest suspicion. And while it is true that the magick is dangerous, it is the user who one should be more concerned with, as magick is an impartial force.

Hope could practically feel the irritation in the words.

For beginners in the art of Earth Magick, it is safest to utter incantations, as doing so helps to control the magick the user is attempting to enact. While most witches and wizards of this time prefer Latin roots for spells, it is Greek roots that Earth Magick responds to best.

Within this book are a number of Greek-based spells for one beginning in Earth Magick. Keep in mind that intent in key and without it, no spell will work.

I wish you, reader and Earth Magick practitioner, all the best luck in this art. I can assure you, it is a most fulfilling magick to learn.

Morea Avis

The infestation was much worse up close and it was particularly chilly, as they were only halfway through January, so Hope found herself bundled up in a tight coat with thick gloves and a hat on her head; Hope rather thought it was incredibly unlikely for her to bend anything but her knees.

"Do we really have to do this when it's this cold?" Hope asked with a pout as clear as day on her lips.

"Yes," Remus chuckled, "or we'll never get to Herbology."

Well, it would lighten the workload, but Hope knew he was right.

The Greenhouse itself was quite big, which meant there was more than enough space for when Hope, Hermione, and Daphne actually did use it, but it was in need of a serious remodelling.

The wooden frame was mouldy and seemed to be under an increased amount of strain as the days of disrepair continued, the window panes were cracked and opaque, and the plants was a menace.

"This is going to take all day," Hope bemoaned as she helped drag out what appeared to be long dead branches, but Hope was sure that there was a bit more to it than that, or they wouldn't be so difficult to remove.

"Only if you don't put your back into it," Remus replied, sparing her a wink that made her roll her eyes.

"There is a faster way to do this, you know," Hope couldn't help but grumble to herself.

"Oh, and what's that?" Remus called back.

Hope's lips curled upwards and she held out a hand to one of the branches. "Xýlo sýmptyxis," she murmured, and the green of her eyes seemed to gleam impossibly bright for a brief few moments.

Remus paused at the murmur of her incantation, turning to see her raise a hand towards the branch and then watch in awe as it shrank away, receding until it had gone from the greenhouse entirely, leaving gaping holes in the glass.

"How did you do that?" he demanded, watching the roots return to either their plants or the earth.

Hope gave him a wide smile. "Just something I've been working on," she said brightly.

"Something you've been working on?" Remus repeated, crossing his arms as best as he could as he scrutinized his quasi-niece. "Hope, that was wandless magic, very few witches and wizards have ever managed such a feat and you're only ten years old!"

Hope's eyes twinkled. "Maybe I'm just special."

Remus gave her a stare that said he didn't believe that for a second.

"All right, I might have dabbled in a bit of ancient magic," Hope admitted, pulling out her wand and tapping at the glass panes, "Reparo!" The cracks disappeared and the glass cleared.

"A bit of ancient magic?" Remus prompted.

"Earth Magick," Hope finally said, "there was a book on Earth Magick."

The small smile fell from his face. "Hope," he said, his jaw stiff, "that's Dark Magic."

Hope gave him a scowl at those words. "Says someone who's never seen it used before," she sniffed, her nose in the air. "How can something possibly be Dark if it comes from the earth? Earth Magick was among the first kinds of magic in the world, it's older than wand-magic and more powerful. How can you say it's Dark if it comes from nature in its purest form?"

She glared at him, her eyes as dark as her grandfather's in that instant.

And oddly enough, Remus had never considered her argument against the label of Dark being placed on, but Hope had a curious interest in subjects that many considered to be taboo.

Hope turned away, jabbing her spade into the frost-crusted earth in an effort to ignore him, which was harder than it seemed, mostly because he was only a few feet away from her.

She dug into the pot, searching for the dirt that was still full of nutrients before spreading her fingers over the pot.

"Méchri to édafos," she murmured softly and before Remus' eyes, the earth tilled, becoming richer than it had been previously.

"Sometimes," Hope said, her words catching in her throat briefly before she started once more, "society condemns things without realizing what they really are."

Her eyes were too knowing when Remus met them with his own, but he had to hand it to her, she was uniquely gifted in twisting her words to her needs.

Remus was certain beyond a doubt that Gryffindor would not be the house she was sorted into, if anything, it was a tossup between Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

And she wasn't wrong, particularly in his case. It was easier to consider all werewolves as dangerous than simply taking into consideration that werewolves were actually people most of the year (barring the twelve days of the full moon).

Remus knew that Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf that had turned him, was most likely to blame for that issue.

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind, then, if I read from your book on Earth Magick…to familiarize myself with a magic that I know very little about?" he asked wryly.

Hope considered him, clearly caught between wanting to keep the book to herself and keep practicing on her own, but she also wanted to give it up to him, to prove that while Earth Magick might not have been considered Light magic, it still wasn't Dark, which was rather the point Hope was trying to make.

"Yeah, all right," she said, moving on to the next pot, stabbing her spade into the earth, churning it with difficulty before uttering another spell under her breath.

It didn't take nearly as much time as Hope had been expecting to fix the greenhouse, though that was possibly partially because of her, but, either way, Hope was glad to be out of the cold.

"And then we put in the…?" Daphne prompted, carefully sectioning Hermione's thick hair, threading it into a tight French braid while Hermione sat in front of her, a blanket thrown over her legs and her potion's book shut on her lap.

Her face pulled into a wince every so often when Daphne tugged a little too hard.

"…Powdered asphodel and then two anti-clockwise stirs and a pinch of powdered moonstone before letting the potion simmer for half an hour."

"Right in one," Daphne said, consulting the potion's book that was positioned off to her side on the cushions while she tied off Hermione's braid. "There you go."

Hermione gingerly ran her fingers over the plait, pulling herself up onto the couch beside Daphne before glancing over to Hope, arching an eyebrow.

"Hope, what're you doing?" she asked her. "You know we've got an exam tomorrow, don't you?"

"I am looking over my great-grandfather's notes," Hope said stoutly with the parchment leaflets scattered around her with her potion's book open to the love potion they were being tested on the next day (no one said that Remus didn't have a sense of humour, honestly, a love potion on Valentine's Day…).

Both girls threw her a blank expression that had Hope rolling her eyes for good measure. "You know, Fleamont Potter? The bloke that came up with the Sleekeazy Hair Potion? An incredible potioneer?"

Daphne frowned. "And you're hoping that some of his potion skills will rub off on you?" she asked dubiously.

"Well, I'm hoping I can find out what I'm doing wrong, mostly," Hope muttered, scratching out several words in her instructions in favour of something that her grandfather had written. "I mean, I can't be that bad at following directions! Potionmaking is just like cooking, you know, and I'm pretty fair at that!"

She was the one who had been in charge of most of the meal-making during her time at Number Four, and though she hadn't been all that great at it when she'd started out, she had gotten better as the years went on, up until she'd left. Mindy, after all, was far better a cook than Hope.

"Maybe you're just bad at multitasking?" Hermione offered a suggestion and Hope's lips drew downwards into a frown.

"That can't be it," Hope disagreed. Their whole tutoring dealt with the ability to juggle so many classes and information in a short amount of time. Hope was sure that if someone asked her if she ever wanted to attempt something like what they were doing now again, she would turn them down (once was enough).

"Maybe I'm daydreaming," she decided.

Daphne shot a look her way. "You daydream in the middle of making potions that might blow up in your face?"

Hope snorted and Hermione looked scandalized. "Like any of the potions we brew are likely to blow up in our faces, I mean, come on."

"That's really not the point," Hermione mentioned.

"What's life without a little risk?"

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh while Daphne released a short giggle. "Longer," the brown-eyed witch informed her.

"Quality not quantity," Hope sang in reply, folding up her leafs of parchment and shutting her potion's book. "I'm looking forward to the exam tomorrow, aren't you?" she asked a bit too cheerfully.

Obviously she had a good feeling about the exam from her great-grandfather's notes.

"Hey, what was that thing you and Remus were fighting over a while back?" Daphne asked her friend suddenly. "Something about an old magic that he didn't quite approve of?"

Hope crossed her arms and huffed in a bit of annoyance. "I don't understand what the big idea is," she griped, expelling a sharp gust of breath from her mouth that blew up a loose strand of hair that had fallen from her bun. "It's just Earth Magick, it's not like I was looking into Dark Magic!"

Daphne's brow furrowed and Hermione looked on in confusion –Earth Magick wasn't a magic she was familiar with.

"But isn't Earth Magick part of Dark Magic?" Daphne asked in befuddlement.

Hope jutted out her lower lip and scowled. "This is the exact same argument I had with Remus, you know," she told her a bit vexed. "Earth Magick is magic in its purest form, magic from the earth itself. It's very old and powerful and can be unpredictable."

Hermione thought it sounded a bit like Hope was reciting those words from a book. "Can you show us?" she asked eagerly, despite Daphne's apprehension; Hermione too had a love for knowledge and was only so happy to learn of another type of magic.

And Hope smiled, just as happy to comply to her friend's request.

"Flóga" Hope murmured, holding out her palm as a small flame flickered to life above her skin. It was like holding a small beating heart of warmth in her hand.

Hermione gasped in awe and Daphne leaned forward, fascinated.

"How is that not burning you?" Daphne demanded, reaching out a hand tentatively to the flame flickering in Hope's palm.

"It's not the kind of flame that burns," Hope explained, "this is one that's meant to illuminate, see?" She took her other hand and moved it right through the flame and two pairs of eyes widened as they looked at her hand, unburned from the heat.

"How did you do that?" Hermione gasped, poking a finger at the fire with a bit of caution, only to jump back in surprise. "It's cold!"

"Cool, right?" Hope asked with a grin, the pun completely going over her head, so Daphne opted not to point it out. "My great-something-grandmother was one of the only practitioners of Earth Magic, it's why people still call her Morea of the Earth."

Morea's skill was certainly something to be feared, perhaps it was one of the reasons that Salazar had been drawn to her in the first place.

"Want to see another trick?" Hope asked her friends brightly, and they were only so eager to see another.

"Today's lesson will be repotting Mandrakes," Remus said, grinning at the simultaneous three groans that his students gave.

It wasn't as though they had any problems with Mandrakes, since they'd never worked with the magical plant before, but clearly none of the girls had much love for the repotting of plants. Remus knew Hope would have preferred to just leave the plants in the ground and let them grow rather than repot them.

"Which one of you wants to tell me about the properties of Mandrakes?" he asked.

To neither Hope nor Daphne's surprise, Hermione's hand had shot up right into the air.

Remus gave a soft chuckle at that. "Yes, Hermione?" he prompted.

"Mandrakes, or Mandragoras, are powerful restoratives. It is used to turn someone who is transfigured or cursed to their natural state," the bushy-haired brunette said clearly.

"And what is an example of a kind of state that the Restorative Draught can bring you back from, Daphne?"

The blonde witch jolted in surprise and Hope could read the stunned expression on her face quite well, one that said she didn't have any idea what he was talking about. "I don't know."

Hope waved a few fingers with an expression of contemplation and the werewolf nodded to her. "Hope?"

"Well…could it work on someone affected by the Draught of Living Death?"

That potion wasn't one the witches would be working on until at least their sixth year, given how difficult it was, but Hope had read about its effects in one of her potions reference books.

"That is an interesting idea to consider," Remus conceded, "but as far as I've heard, the Wiggenweld Potion appears to be the only cure to the Draught of Living Death. So, for your assignment for next class, describe the Mandrake, its properties, and what kind of conditions it is capable of curing."

He dusted off his hands. "And now I'm going to explain to you what you'll be doing beforehand, because you won't be able to hear a word I say once you put on your earmuffs."

Three heads nodded in understanding, even as Daphne eyed the slightly moving tufted leaves peeking out of the top of the dirt distastefully.

"So, Mandrake cries are fatal to anyone who hears them," Remus continued, "luckily, the ones we've got are a bit young, so their cries won't kill you, the most they'll probably do is knock you out for a few hours."

Hope was startled by that, but Daphne merely drawled out, "Which is a comfort to us, I'm sure."

Remus spared her a small smile before patting his hand against one of the pots in front of him. "Continuing on, you will grab the Mandrake here—" Remus made the motion to wrap his thick-gloved fingers around the stem. "—and you'll yank it right up, put it in the other pot and pile compost on top of it until only the leaves are visible once more. Understand?"

They all nodded.

"Do not take off your earmuffs until all the Mandrakes are completely covered, which means you'll have to wait for the others to finish, but there's only three of you, so I don't think you're too worried about that."

Hope rolled her eyes and Hermione giggled while Daphne rolled her shoulders, ready to start.

"Once you've all got your earmuffs on, you may begin," Remus said.

Hope drew her earmuffs over her ears, sound immediately cutting off the noise around them. Hermione and Daphne did the same a moment later, and then all three grasped the stems of their Mandrakes firmly, pulling them up from the dirt.

And Hope couldn't help but stare at what they'd unearthed. They were certainly a bit ghastly, like an ugly baby composed entirely of the earth, complete with a wailing mouth.

She was suddenly very grateful that they had their earmuffs to protect themselves from the noise, because it didn't look as though it was pleasant to listen to.

Hope didn't know about the Mandrakes the other two, but hers was certainly putting up a fight, it may have been difficult to pull it out of the earth, but putting it back into it was going to be exceptionally difficult as well.

It flailed and thrashed before Hope managed to dump it at long last into the empty pot. Hope glowered at it, but that appeared to make little difference to the Mandrake, which gave no notice that it had seen her glare as it continued to cry and flail its root-like appendages.

Hope shook her head in exasperation for reaching down beside her feet to where a bag of compost rested and she hoisted it up onto the table, ripping it open and pouring some compost in.

Obviously, she couldn't just dump all the compost on Mandrake all at once, though Hope dearly wished that she could have. Instead, Hope made sure to pack the compost in, surrounding the Mandrake as best as she could before pouring more compost in.

Before she knew it, the Mandrake's head had disappeared under the packed layer of compost and Hope was only so happy to see it go. It meant that instead of three Mandrakes wailing, now there were only two, while was certainly a load off where her hearing was concerned, whether or not the Mandrakes didn't really have a chance of doing too much damage.

Hope looked to her side, amused to see that Hermione was pouring her compost onto her Mandrake, continuously mouthing "I'm sorry!" to it, whilst on her other side Daphne was wearing a thunderous expression, glaring daggers at her Mandrake, clearly very unenthused with their Herbology lesson, no matter how grudging she did it.

The green-eyed witch allowed herself a small smirk when she noticed how Daphne's lips formed into a familiar swear that made Hope wonder where her friend had learned it.

And then she leaned back to wait for her friends to finish their potting.

Their lessons flew by quickly and the young witches soon found themselves in the middle of March, writing their essays for their Transfiguration class the next day.

Hermione had finished hers early and was now sitting on the window seat, looking out into the glum night as the rain came in a downpour without any sign of stopping.

She sighed. "Poor, Remus, you know? Running around as a werewolf in all this rain can't be pleasant."

Hope looked up with a small stain of ink on one of her cheeks. "Better than the snow, though. Mindy had to keep adding Pepper Up Potion to his hot chocolate to get him functioning again."

That was true. A werewolf lying around in the cold snow did nothing for his health, that much Hope had been made aware of when Mindy had to forcibly remove her mistress from Remus' room.

Winter seemed to have been a really bad time for Remus with his delicate condition, and some days the girls had found themselves on their own without their teacher, but they did well enough on their exams not to warrant going back over the material, and thus stretching on how long they were to stay on their second year (though, really they did have plenty of time, since they weren't to go to Hogwarts until September, but the girls also wanted some vacation time before they went back to school).

"What was that potion that's supposed to help werewolves?" Hermione asked absently, still staring out into the darkness.

"The Wolfsbane Potion," Daphne said without looking up from her parchment where she was sprawled on her stomach close to the fire, scribbling her words onto the parchment she had thrown across her book.

"Do you think we could make it for him?" Hermione asked, her eyes focusing on a rapidly moving figure out in the shadows of the night.

Hope gave a snort at that. "You're joking, right? The Wolfsbane Potion is supposed to be really difficult. Usually only potionmasters can manage to make it, it'd probably be really disastrous if we got it wrong and I wouldn't want to be the one to test that on Remus."

"Good point," Hermione said, finally dragging her eyes from the window to flop back against the couch. "Are you done yet?"

"Almost," Daphne muttered, sticking her tongue out of the edge of her mouth just slightly before she finished her paper with a flourish. "There! Done!"

Hope uttered a Grecian swear that Hermione only recognized because her friend had used it before.

"Harder 'g'," Daphne retorted with a smirk and Hope gave her a scowl, muttering the revised swear under her breath, ignoring the book that Hermione threw at her leg, no matter how hard it collided against her calf.

"When this is all done, I need a month-long vacation from the pair of you," Hope decided. "You're bad for my health."

Daphne snorted and Hermione laughed, both knowing her too well to take her seriously.

"Now you're just showing off," Daphne complained, jabbing a finger at the pillow frozen in the air by Hermione's Immobulus.

"There is nothing wrong with showing off if it's something you're good at," Hermione refuted, looking remarkably pleased with herself (it wasn't as though she'd gotten the spell right on the first go).

"Says the person who gets most of the spells right," Daphne grumbled to herself whilst Hope sniggered.

"Aw, Daphne, are you feeling bitter?" Hope probed with a grin, elbowing her friend in the side as she did so.

"I am not bitter!" Daphne insisted. "I get my spells right! Maybe not as fast as Hermione, but I get them right!"

Remus sighed as Hermione and Hope laughed at their friend's expense. "All right, you two, I think you've taken the mickey out on Daphne enough for the day, don't you think?"

Hope shrugged. "Maybe."

He opted to ignore that, focusing more on the teaching rather than the chaos his three students seemed to get up to in between learning new spells. Really, they were putting him off teaching, well, incredibly compressed teaching. Remus knew without a doubt that he would not be attempting another two years of school in one like he had for the three young witches.

"Continuing on," he said, shooting them all a look to quell any other interruptions until he was through explaining the next charm. "The next spell I will be teaching you is the General Counter-Spell."

As he spoke, he scrawled the words onto the black board that he'd wheeled into the ballroom (since it was the best place for them to practice their incantations without having too many problems) strictly for that purpose. "Now the incantation is: Finite. There is another incantation to use, but we won't get into that since it won't be covered until you're a bit older…now can you guess what this spell does?"

"Er, does it stop spells?" Daphne ventured the most obvious response, given the spell's name.

"Yes," Remus agreed, "it's a counter-curse for general use. It works on most spells and curses, but there are some that require specific counter-curses to cancel their effects. This is the movement you will make when you cast the spell." And he took the chalk, drawing what seemed almost like a shield that wouldn't have been amiss on a suit of armour in Hogwarts.

Then he placed a chair in front of each girl and had it transfigured to stand upright and turn bright blue.

"Have at it," he said, "I'll check on your progress in about ten minutes."

And then he turned his back to them, and that was when he heard a dull boom and had to twist around violently to see Hope a few feet back from where she had been standing, her chair charred remains, and Hermione and Daphne huddled to the side, arms over their heads.

"Hope!"

The currently-bronze-haired girl sat up, not seeming to notice the long cut on her cheek from the wood that had been blown back by her minor explosion.

"That was awesome!" Hope pumped her fists in excitement. "Can we do it again?"

Hermione and Daphne stared but Remus merely gave her a look of fond exasperation.

"Do it again? Are you crazy? You almost blew us up!" Daphne exploded.

"Almost being the operative word," Hope countered, grinning widely as Hermione smacked a hand to her forehead.

But Remus really should have known better, after all, this was the daughter of a Marauder and the goddaughter to another.

Chaos was in her blood.

History of Magic was by far the easiest of Hope's classes, mostly because it could be done independently without a teacher, which meant that it was the class they were the farthest in, compared to the classes that required a practical application.

And since she didn't seen her friends much during the week as opposed to weekends, that was when she did most of her studying for that class.

"The International Warlock Convention of 1286 was attended by a group of Sardinian sorcerers due to a disagreement concerning the regulations between differing magical communities—" Hope mumbled aloud as she jotted down the words into her notes only to be interrupted by a sharp knock on her bedroom door.

"Come in," Hope called, not looking up from her book before fixing the sheer number of blankets she had swathed around her body; frankly, it was a bit ridiculous.

The door pushed open to permit the one at the door to enter, an enter Mindy did, laden down with a tray that held a bowl full of something that smelled heavenly and one cup that was smoking slightly.

Hope eyed it dubiously as Mindy placed the tray at her bedside. "Is there Pepper Up Potion in there?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the thought. Hope didn't much like Pepper Up Potion, but, thankfully, she didn't have to take it very often, so that was a plus.

"Yes, Mistress," Mindy said, smoothing her knobby hands down the front of her tunic-styled dress.

Hope groaned, flopping her head back against the pillows, wishing nothing more than her cold –which had been present for the whole day and had made studying a bit difficult– to disappear. "You know I don't like Pepper Up Potion, Mindy."

Mindy held out the smoking cup to her with a steely stare that brooked no argument. "If Mistress wants to get better, then Mistress needs to take her potions."

Hope huffed in annoyance, but she still took the cup, gulping it down so as to get it over with quickly, but that didn't stop it from tasting foul.

"Gods, that's terrible," Hope griped, but the house-elf gave her no sympathy, she was there to look after Hope, after all, not alter the taste of potions.

"Mindy will bring Mistress a glass of water to go with her soup," she said, giving a small bow before making for Hope's door.

"Oh, and Mindy?" Hope called. "Thank you."

If the house-elf smiled, Hope did not know.

"I will never get over how clear it is out here," Hermione said where they were all settled on the roof (which might have seemed like a bit of a precarious position if the part of the roof that they were settled on wasn't flat, but it was, so the crisis was averted).

"Another upside to living in the country," Hope mentioned, eyes fixed in her telescope as she searched for the stars she was charting. "I'm actually not sure how far the Potter lands extend."

Daphne looked up from her star chart, arching an eyebrow at her. "You've never gone to see how far they go?"

One of the first things her parents had taught her and Astoria was about how far they could go before they were outside the manor wards and thus outside their protection.

Hope shrugged. "I never felt the need, I've been a bit too busy to do much…investigating of the land. And it's been a bit cool, so I figured I'd better wait until it was a bit warmer."

Which, luckily it was. They were almost completely through April now, which meant in a month or so their final exams would be upon them. It had been a bit chilly until recently so that when they did Astronomy they were usually wearing blankets around them to protect them from the cold.

"Once we're done with class I'll have a better look around," she said with a shrug before throwing a grin their way. "Maybe climb a few trees."

It had been awhile since Hope had climbed any trees for fun, the last time she'd been in a tree it had been because she was chased up it by the dog of Vernon's sister. She grimaced at the thought; it wasn't a particularly pleasant memory.

It had been a few weeks before she found out about the Wizarding world by Thanatos and Hope had accidentally trod on the terrible woman's equally terrible dog whilst carrying a few books to her 'room'. Really, the dog was the one that was bad-tempered, sending Hope racing up a tree and having to stay there for hours because the Dursleys –all of them, the miserable pieces of humankind– were content to watch her stuck up there until midnight.

"Aren't you afraid that you'll fall?" Hermione asked with concern flickering in her brown orbs.

"Psh!" Hope scoffed, waving a hand carelessly. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen? A few broken bones?"

"Yes, Hope," Daphne said dryly while Hermione threw her friend an exasperated stare, "that's exactly what could happen, you breaking your fool neck."

"What's life like without a little risk?" Hope demanded with a wide grin.

"I'm pretty sure that we've had this conversation before," Hermione replied, narrowing her eyes and scrutinizing her friend.

"Probably," Daphne agreed. "Hope is a very reckless person."

"Hey!" Hope complained. "Just because the two of you enjoy the quiet life doesn't mean that everyone does."

Hermione rolled her for good measure before turning her attention back to the telescope, almost poking herself in the eye in her haste to look through it. "Have you found Mira in the Cetus constellation?"

Tonight they were working on the Perseus Family constellation, which included the constellations of people and creatures in the myth of Perseus son of Zeus: Cassiopeia, Cepheus, Andromeda, Perseus, Pegasus, and Cetus.

Mira was the clearest star in the Cetus constellation, but Hermione wasn't as much of a star-gazer as Hope was.

"Yeah," Hope agreed, frowning as she drew her parchment closer to her eyes so she could see it better, even with the bright lanterns positioned around them to illuminate their work space. "That's in the third quadrant."

"Is it?" Hermione asked, squinting her eyes as she looked through the telescope again. "You sure?"

"Er, yeah, pretty sure." Hope had found Mira early into their lesson (if it could have been called a lesson, really it was more like glorified star-gazing, and Hope was all for that). Hope stood, pushing back her seat to keep from jostling her telescope and removing it from the fifth quadrant where she was searching for Herschel's Garnet Star in the Cepheus constellation. "Here, let me have a look."

Hermione leaned out of the way to let her friend have a look through the lens, but then Hope chuckled. "What is it? Did you find it?"

"You were looking right at it," Hope snorted. "It's that star close to the edge of that small cluster of stars."

Hermione looked through the telescope, focusing on the various stars, searching through the clusters until she found the star she was looking for. "Oh," she said in surprise. "Thanks."

Hope gave a mocking salute in reply that made the brunette nudge her in the leg before she went back to marking her star chart, leaving Hope to meander back to her own telescope.

It really was a good night for looking at the stars; there wasn't a cloud in sight and the stars were bright against the impossible blackness of the night.

"Who names these stars, anyways?" Daphne asked as she marked Enif, which was also known as Epsilon Pegasi, the brightest star that made up Pegasus' muzzle.

"I dunno," Hope said, "maybe an astrologist?"

"Well, they're not very inventive," Daphne complained. "Look at this, who names the stars of the Square of Pegasus: Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Alpha Andromedae? That's just so boring! Imagine if we named stars like that!"

Hope watched the blonde witch rant with a bit of amusement, as it was one of the tells that Daphne really needed to get some sleep, because she wasn't usually that vocal about why stars were named the way that they were.

But they still had a bit more work to do before their lesson was done so Hope went back to her work.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Hope found it distinctly uncomfortable to be used as the dummy for the other two to practice the spell on, but she had lost the coin toss, so here she was. With a wand drawn on her, and Hope wished not for the third time that lesson that she was a bit more lucky.

Unfortunately, Daphne hadn't completely managed the spell, so Hope could twist her head and tighten her hand into a fist.

"Hm, it looks like you didn't finish the wand movement correctly," Remus remarked, tapping his chin thoughtfully before undoing the spell with a wave of his own wand and Hope's stiff body relaxed. "Try again with more of a jab at the end."

Daphne drew up her wand once more, breathing out slowly before incanting the spell. "Petrificus Totalus!"

She flicked her wand and the spell hit Hope like a punch to the stomach, startling but not painful enough to cause her damage, and then Hope couldn't even move her fingers or neck like she had before. This time, it seemed, Daphne had done the spell perfectly.

Remus released her from the spell.

"All right," Remus said, "Hermione, you're up again, give it your best shot."

The brown-eyed girl stepped forward eagerly. She had her hair bound in a tight French plait that she was quickly becoming obsessed with (every time she and Daphne showed up for their weekend lessons she would have one of them braid her hair for her) and she'd tucked a spare quill through the plait, which wasn't unlike how Hope tended to tuck her wand behind her ear.

Hermione raised her wand, determination glittering in her eyes as she said, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Hope grunted as the spell hit her, but it had no effect on silencing her mouth, despite that the spell was supposed to stop all movement barring the eyes. "You guys are getting a kick out of using me as target practice, aren't you?"

Hermione's eyes were wide an innocent, but that just made Hope trust them even less, while Daphne sniggered beside her, proving her question was just as accurate as she had originally thought.

Remus gave her a small smile as he released her from the spell once more. "Again, Hermione, then the two of you will switch so that Hope gets a chance to practice."

"She'll probably intentionally get it wrong," Daphne offered with a smirk and Hope pouted.

"You really think that little of me?"

"I really know you that well," Daphne said, rolling her eyes at Hope's expression.

Hermione lifted her wand once more, ignoring their idle conversation. "Petrificus Totalus!"

It was said with so much force that Hope actually found herself immobile and on her back, where she had fallen against the ground.

She glared mutinously at Hermione who gave a small "Oops!"

"Well, maybe not so much intent," Remus admitted before conceding, "but well done all the same."

The counter-curse hit Hope and she reached a hand back to rub at her head, scowling at her friend. "I'm going to get you for that one," she promised.

The chilly weather lightened as they moved from April to May and swiftly into June. The sun shone brightly through puffy clouds and the sky was a clear crystal blue. Grass had begun to grow again and Potter Manor could be seen surrounded by nothing but greenery as far as the eye could see.

Though during Remus' first few transformations on the Potter lands he had ripped through a couple of trees and done a bit of damage, for the past few months it seemed that during the full moon he spent more time running around than demolishing the earth.

The trees were gaining leaves and flowers were blossoming when a familiar figure appeared on Hope's doorstep.

"Nice day for a walk, don't you think?" he asked her and Hope leaned against the doorway, arching an eyebrow at him for good measure.

"Grandfather," she said wryly, "you are aware that I have final exams in less than two hours, don't you?"

The god smiled at her. He was dressed as casually as he had been when they had first met with shades over his sometimes eerily dark eyes, his legs clad in denim, and with a shirt of a band that Hope didn't recognize.

"Which I'm sure you'll ace with no problem," Thanatos replied, amusement laced through his voice as he spoke, examining his fingernails as though they were far more fascinating than looking to his descendant, "given your previous grades."

Hope narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms at that sly remark. "Have you been checking up on me, Grandfather?"

"Me?" The god didn't try very hard to appear innocent, and his wide grin gave himself away. "Are you going to come on a walk with me, dearest? Or are you going to leave me to my own devices?"

Hope wasn't sure what a god of death could possibly get up to on her property when she wasn't around, but Hope would've preferred that her home wasn't dismantled.

She glanced back into the manor. Remus was still preparing for their practical exams and Daphne and Hermione hadn't turned up yet, since there was still another two hours before the exams began. Though, Hope had been planning to use that time to cram in a bit more information into her brain before her friends arrived.

But…

Hope contemplated her grandfather where he stood with a hand outstretched invitingly and with an easy smile on his lips. Thanatos didn't stop by all that often, and Hope did like it when he showed up.

"All right," she said, holding up a finger, "give me a few seconds."

She shut the door, skidding across the smooth marble in her socks while she searched for her boots and pulled a light jacket over her shoulders. Hope didn't know if the god had realized that her bronze curls were a clear adoption from his own, but she was sure it must have dawned on him.

"I'll be back in a bit, Remus!" she called, grasping the main door's knob, waiting for the werewolf to reappear in some state of confusion at just where she was going.

Sure enough there were a few hasty footsteps followed shortly by Remus coming into view with a distinctly harried expression.

"Hope? Where're you off to?"

"Just for a walk, don't worry," Hope assured him with a careless wave of her hand. "Grandfather's here."

Perhaps she should have started with that bit, given how her minder relaxed at the mention of Thanatos. Her grandfather was a bit odd, but Remus trusted him well-enough with his best friend's daughter.

"Make sure you're back before twelve," he said before making his way back into one of the rooms and Hope nodded, opening the door and stepping out into the bright sunlight.

Hope looped her arm through the taller man's as he led her down the steps off in the direction of the forest. "Reap any souls lately?" Hope asked, grinning up at him.

She was sure he was winking at her behind those shades of his. "Don't you know it," he chortled.

Hope hummed as he helped her cross over a stream, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why're you really here?"

"Do I need a reason to visit my many times granddaughter?" he replied easily but Hope was not fooled.

"Usually you drop by with a bit of cryptic advice," Hope responded dubiously. And giving cryptic advice seemed to be something that the god excelled at.

"We all have events that must occur in our lives. One small change can cause a much larger one."

"So what is it this time?"

Thanatos turned his head to glance towards her, raising his free hand to shift the glasses down his nose slightly so those solid onyx eyes of his could pierce her. "It has been a very long time indeed since someone has used Earth Magick."

Hope, unwillingly, tightened her grip around his arm, wondering if she was going to have to defend the obscure branch of magic to someone yet again.

"I'm glad," he said, surprising her, "there are some magicks that should not be forgotten."

"Wait…you're pleased?" Hope asked him, stunned by his words. "But, everyone else thinks that Earth Magick is a Dark Art and they tried to stop me from learning it." Or at least damper her enthusiasm for it until they'd read Morea's book on the subject.

"Earth Magick can be unpredictable and dangerous," Thanatos conceded, "but so are all magicks and those that use them. Earth Magick, however, was one of the first forms of magic-use outside the body and should be respected, not feared."

"So, you think I should keep practicing?" Hope asked him, the bright smile on her lips blinding.

"I think you should do whatever you wish," Thanatos told her. "It is your right to do what you wish."

She squeezed his arm gratefully. "Thanks, Grandfather."

He hummed in agreement.

Hope made it back to Potter Manor with plenty of time to spare, which was good, because as soon as she arrived, Hermione pounced on her asking her if she'd studied the importance of the International Warlock Convention of 1289 or who had been invited to the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, before Daphne managed to pull her off and tell her that all their brains were filled to burst with information so that wasn't really helping.

And it was only then that the brunette relented, though, then her hands moved to tug aggressively on the twin braids her hair had been plaited into (Hope wondered if Daphne had done that on purpose, knowing their ever-worrying friend would have an easier time tugging two than one).

"You'll do fine," Hope assured her.

"Don't tell me that," Hermione hissed. "You say that and then I won't do as well."

"Well, who could top those below-par results we all got last time," Daphne interjected with heavy sarcasm and completed with an eye-roll.

"Oh, shut up," Hermione muttered, though the corner of her lips were twitching even as they entered into the room to complete the written part of their exams.

The written part was the easiest part, though, since all you had to do was recall information from memory, the practicals, she knew from when they'd taken them last during December, would be much harder.

But, one thing at a time. Hope had to finish the written exams first before she went on to the practicals so she let out a sigh, looking at the pile of parchment that Remus was handing out to all of them. Then she steeled her nerves and gripped her quill tightly, dipping it into the inkwell and pulling the first exam parchment towards her.

It seemed to take hours upon hours before Hope was finally free to leave and flop down on the couch in the drawing room, her writing hand aching from how much she'd written.

"Can we die yet?" Daphne groaned from the opposite armchair, practically disappearing into the cushions –or slipping onto the floor, whichever came first– with one arm thrown over her eyes.

"Not yet," Hope said, checking her watch. "We've got the practicals once Hermione's done."

Daphne's groan became just a pitch higher, but she was still grateful that Hope was the one who went into the potion practical first, and, in a way, so was Hope. The Metamorphmagus had been doing rather well in Potions, considering how poorly she'd done in their first year, barely scraping by with an A, something that made the witch very glad she'd found great-granddad Fleamont's notes for a reference ("It's not cheating if it works, Hermione!" "So you say!")

Charms and Transfiguration went as well as could have been expected and Hope was sure that she'd been docked a few points for some minor mistakes, but other than that, those exams went rather well.

Defense Against the Dark Arts went great and Hope had only made a small stumble in Astronomy (really, the two stars were so close together that it was almost impossible to not get them mixed up, it was hardly Hope's fault).

Herbology had her contemplating whacking her head against a pot full of a Mandrake, she would have to be very very lucky to have scraped by with an E on that one (unless she didn't do as bad as she'd originally thought, and that was also possible), but at least she managed to keep from stabbing her examiner with a trowel (she had a feeling Remus wouldn't like it very much).

And then, at long last, all three girls found themselves waiting in the drawing room on bated breath for Remus to finish grading their written and practical exams.

The silence was strangling but none of the three offered up any words to shatter it, so they remained in the silence, awaiting the footsteps that usually accompanied the werewolf.

It seemed as though an age had passed before they heard the sound of footsteps and then they were on him before he'd even entered the room.

"Whoa, there," Remus laughed, "calm down, here they are." And he handed them each a parchment and Hope practically snatched hers out of his hand, beaming at the grades there.

Three O's with the rest being E's…it was turning into a wonderful day.

"Congratulations," Remus told them all with a smile, "you are officially third year students."

And it was difficult to tell which of the three was more pleased by that.

AN: Thank the gods this chapter is done, I was honestly getting a little sick of it close to the end, mostly 'cause I thought shoving all of year two in one chapter was a good idea, but on the plus side, now it's done and we can get into the good stuff, maybe we'll even get to platform 9 ¾ by the end of the next chapter!

Since Cora asked, I did a direct family line from Morea Avis down to Hope Potter that's posted on my fanfic-tumblr: greygryffindor. I might do a more extensive version of the family tree if you all want it.

As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

*Chapter 8*: Summer Daze

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Eight: Summer Daze

AN: I know several of you mentioned how the last chapter seemed a little forced, and it was probably because I wanted to get through the second year in a single chapter, which was, arguably, a better idea in my head, but it was better to get it over with in one go than anything else.

Rantings of a Madman: I have absolutely no source material for Earth Magick –the same with Blood Runes– I can say it was inspired/based off the spells used in BBC's Merlin

It was in the tail-end of June that Professor Minerva McGonagall received a peculiar letter from an old student of hers that she had always been a bit concerned about.

With the world as it was and the laws that were in place, Remus Lupin, being a werewolf, had had difficulty finding a stable job after the war had ended. But she had just received word from him that he had spent nearly a year tutoring three students who hadn't even entered into Hogwarts so that they could jump two grades.

The information was nothing short of astonishing.

Three children skipping two years in one go? That hadn't been done in years and it wasn't recommended in the slightest…but three had chosen that path.

Yet, it wasn't the most surprising thing about the letter, the surprising part had been that it was sealed with the Potter crest.

If she was betting woman, she would say that one of the three was Hope Potter, given how there were no other Potters still alive. But Minerva McGonagall wasn't a betting woman; she knew one of the girls had to be Hope Potter, it was the only reason that Remus could have been enticed to come back to Britain.

And the letter had included an offer for tea, in which Remus would give her the subsequent documents for the three students to be moved up two years.

(And if Minerva found it odd that he hadn't mentioned the three students' names, she didn't remark on it)

So Minerva McGonagall found herself out on a warm day in June in the middle of Wales as the sun shone down through trees, dappling her emerald robes in shadows from the leaves overhead.

She could not see the wards in place, but she knew not to pass them, given Remus' words in the letter, they were quite deadly. Minerva was a bit early, so it was likely that Remus didn't know that she had arrived, and for a moment all that she could hear was the distant sound of an axe cutting into wood.

Then the axe stopped and a few moments later a girl appeared in front of Minerva so suddenly that it couldn't have been Apparation.

She was young, ten or eleven, her eyes were obsidian and her hair a tumble of bronze curls hiked up into a high ponytail. With the axe over her shoulder and plaid texture of her shirt and the denim of her jeans, Minerva assumed she might be a hired hand, but there was something familiar in the shape of her eyes and the curve of her cheekbones.

"Can I help you?" the girl said with narrowed eyes. "This is private property."

"I was under the impression that Remus Lupin lived here," Minerva replied simply, arching an eyebrow. "He and I are to have tea."

She tilted her head, appraising the older witch. "You must be Professor Minerva McGonagall," she surmised, her eyes narrowing further as she glanced around her. "The old codger isn't with you, is he?"

"Old codger?"

"You know, the headmaster," she said airily, "Dumbledore."

Minerva was scandalized at anyone referring to Albus Dumbledore as an 'old codger' but clearly the young girl's opinion of him was rather low, so perhaps it was best to leave it as it was. "No," she said, "I'm alone."

"Good," the girl said, stepping to the side, "you may enter."

So Minerva stepped cautiously over the boundary, but, thankfully, nothing happened, and she was allowed entry into the Potter lands.

"It's a bit of a walk, so try not to move too much," the girl added, gripping Minerva's elbow and one moment they were in the forest and the next they were in front of the manor.

Potter Manor was very beautiful, its architecture old, with ivy climbing up it, it was almost like a chateau in appearance, but it was very lovely.

Minerva did not have time to question her about the magic she used to transport them so instantaneously, as the girl was moving again, bracing the axe against the manor's wall before opening one of the intricately carved double doors for Minerva to enter through.

"Mindy," the girl called, shutting the door behind them, "we have a guest."

A house-elf popped into existence wearing a tunic bearing the Potter's family crest. Her large eyes were wide and expressive. "Yes, Mistress," she said kindly and Minerva tried not to look taken aback by the address; that would make the girl Hope Potter…but she looked nothing like her parents!

"Remus is in the drawing room," Hope told Minerva, pointing to her left. "Mindy will bring you some tea."

Mindy gave a polite nod before speaking. "And Mistress, you is needing to change—"

"Yes, yes," Hope sighed, waving a hand carelessly, "I'll go do that directly."

The house-elf nearly glared at her and Hope grimaced. "I'll go do that now," she acquiesced, before turning to Minerva. "Enjoy your tea, Professor, I'm sure Remus will enjoy not being around children for a change."

Amusement tinged her face as she said that, the smirk so like James Potter's that Minerva couldn't help but compare the two before the Girl-Who-Lived turned on her heel to take up the stairs two at a time.

The drawing room was well lit Remus was sitting on the couch, spectacles perched on his nose as he read from a book. A cursory glance told Minerva that her old student was in good health; his cheeks shone with colour and though he had a few grey streaks strewn through his hair, he still looked far better than the last time she had seen him, which had been at James and Lily's funeral.

He removed the spectacles and shut the book, placing both on the small table beside the couch, smiling at his old professor as he pulled himself up to stand.

"Professor," he said, clasping her hand in his, "it's so good to see you."

"And to see you," Minerva responded earnestly, "the last time was under such sombre circumstances."

Remus' smile fell, recalling the day well. "Yes, it was."

"I'm glad to see you're doing much better," she added, glancing back in the direction that the girl had gone, "was that—?"

"Hope Potter? Yes, it was."

Remus sat down and Minerva followed suit.

"She's…" Minerva wasn't quite sure what to say. "She isn't quite what I expected."

"No, she isn't," Remus agreed with a bit of amusement. "But she certainly is a breath of fresh air."

"She was placed at her aunt's for her protection," Minerva said, "and I heard from a Muggle-born that she had run away and was living at a manor with caretaker." She gave her former student a shrewd stare as he cupped his chin, chuckling sheepishly.

"Well, none of that was a lie," he said, "Hermione prefers to be honest without giving too much information away, it's a habit she picked up from Hope."

Minerva gave him another look. "One of your students, I presume."

Remus smiled again, lifting a stack of parchments from the floor to hand them over to the professor. "Here is the paperwork for students Hope Potter, Hermione Granger, and Daphne Greengrass to skip two years of education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

It was an awful lot of parchments to look over, but then again, there were three students rather than the usual one.

Minerva pulled out her own spectacles. "Do you mind if I check them here?"

Remus made a careless wave of his hand, similar to what Hope had done earlier. "I don't have any plans for the rest of the –Hope where are you going?"

The young heiress had plopped herself onto the armchair and was currently pulling almost knee-high riding boots over her stocking-clad feet.

"To Malfoy Manor," Hope said in a no-nonsense manner. "Lady Narcissa asked me to tea when I was free, and I am free now…I mentioned this yesterday when the letter came, remember?" Her eyebrows arched with the emphasis.

"Yes," Remus said dryly, "but why are you going to Malfoy Manor dressed like that?"

Hope did up the zippers on the boots before standing. Her eyes had changed from black to an emerald green and her hair was dark and secured in a bun that was artfully haphazard, thick curly fringe hiding her scar from view. The tunic she was garbed in was of the finest quality, as an heir to a Noble and Most Ancient House was meant to wear, with an emerald snake embroidered around the collar to rest at the breast in Acromantula Silk, with a sash around her waist of an identical emerald, and she wore similar dark trousers with it.

"She is taking me riding on Abraxans," Hope said and Remus opened his mouth to say something when she swept a black cloak over her shoulders and summoned Mindy, disappearing before he could say anything, and he settled back with a frown.

"Hope can be a bit difficult," he said to Minerva, who had watched the exchange silently but with good humour.

"Clearly she's inherited a bit of James' rebelliousness," she remarked and Remus chuckled.

"Yes, a good bit of it, I believe."

"Heir Potter, you look as lovely as ever."

Narcissa Malfoy was giving Hope a motherly smile, like she had when they had first met and Hope couldn't help but smile as she removed the cloak, giving it to the house-elf that had asked for it.

"My lady is far too kind," Hope replied smoothly, "my caretaker was a bit surprised by my choice in clothes."

A short amused giggle parted Narcissa's lips. "I take it they were not aware that you and I would be riding together?"

"No," Hope said, "I thought it might be best to spring it on him at the last minute." A fond smile graced her lips. "He worries about me."

"Being in the company of the family of a Death Eater?"

Hope looked up sharply, wondering if she had been so transparent, but Narcissa gave her a kindly smile.

"I can understand his reservations," she said, "Lucius has very singular views on the Dark and Light."

"Personally I've always thought Grey was a nice mix," Hope mused thoughtfully and Narcissa's lips curved further upwards.

"I agree, but your caretaker needn't worry, today Lucius took Draco with him for some business," she said, before gesturing to the young witch, "come, let me show you our Abraxans."

Abraxans were a breed of Pegasi and Hope had never touched a horse without wings, let alone one that did. And she couldn't remember any time that Dudley had shown an interest in horse-riding that she could have been purposefully excluded from, not that a horse could have borne his weight.

The Malfoy's stables were set a bit away from the manor, but were a tastefully elegant as the manor had been, with only three stalls for the Abraxans.

"Lucius, Draco, and I used to go riding together when Draco was younger," Narcissa admitted, "but not so much now that Draco is older."

It was clear that it was something she missed.

"This is Creon," Narcissa continued, patting the snout of a black steed with magnificent wings. "And those are Phoebe and Thanatos." Phoebe was a brown mare and Thanatos was pure white.

Hope reached out a hand to pat Thanatos' neck with a smile. The horse Thanatos, she found, was much easier to deal with than her grandfather Thanatos, and the horse didn't have a habit of speaking in riddles.

Thanatos blinked his large eyes at her and whinnied softly.

"Thanatos likes you," Narcissa remarked in amusement, "he doesn't like many people. Usually he prefers my husband alone."

"He's very handsome," Hope said, still in awe of the creature hanging its head out of the stall to greet her.

"He is," Narcissa agreed, her grey eyes glittering.

In a short matter of time Thanatos and Creon were saddled and Hope was leading Thanatos out of the stall gingerly while Narcissa was already astride her own steed, garbed in an outfit similar to Hope's only with the Malfoy family crest.

Narcissa coached Hope patiently until she found herself on her saddle. It was a little unnerving, she could not deny, feeling the creature's wings near her legs.

"I believe it would be best to remain on the ground, since this is your first time on an Abraxan," Narcissa added as Hope got used to the idea of being above ground but also being close to it.

"That would probably be best," Hope concurred, just a little breathless.

They started at a light trot before smoothing into a calm walk that hardly jostled Hope, allowing her to grow used to how it felt to ride a horse-like creature.

"So, tell me, Heir Potter," Narcissa said, "how are your studies going?"

Hope blinked, her thoughts having drifted with the pace of the Abraxans they were riding. "Oh –I've completed my second year of class and am due to begin my third at Hogwarts next term."

"Well done," Narcissa smiled, "not many can say they've done what you, Heir Greengrass, and Miss Granger have done."

Perhaps it was the compliment, or perhaps it was that Narcissa had referred to Hermione as Miss as opposed to anything else –such as speaking her name like it was poison, being a Muggle-born witch– but Hope couldn't help but feel uncommonly pleased.

"Yes," she said, "we're all glad it's over with and we can get a long break before school starts again."

Hermione and Daphne's parents had been quite pleased with their daughters' achievements over the year and had each celebrated their achievements.

"And now I have time to work on my own projects," Hope added.

"Anything of interest?" Narcissa prompted as Creon stepped over a thick branch that had been knocked down in a storm some number of nights ago.

Hope considered her. "I have developed a fascination with the Ancient Arts."

"Have you?" That sparked something in Narcissa. The Potter family had, as far as she had known it, been a stanchly Light family. They weren't the type to dabble in the Ancient Arts, whom many considered Dark, but Hope was a Slytherin as well as a Potter and the Ancient Arts were in her blood. "Which have captured your interest?"

And Hope positively beamed. Narcissa had to consider that not many would have approved of her interest in such things, and to have someone outside her close-knit network of friends and caretakers to inquire about her interest in the Ancient Arts without judgment surely meant something to her.

"Currently, I'm focused on Earth Magick," Hope explained with a bit of restrained enthusiasm, so as not to startle the older witch, "my ancestor Morea Avis was famous for her Earth Magick, so I had an interest in that first because she was so famous for it, but Blood Magick –in particular Blood Runes– sounds fascinating."

Narcissa hummed in agreement. "I delved into the Ancient Arts for a time when I was younger, Blood Magick caught my interest more than anything else. Magic is in the blood, after all."

Hope nodded, reasserting herself in the saddle.

"What about you?" Hope asked her. "What kind of magic do you specialize in?"

While Narcissa was a Lady of a Noble and Most Ancient House and had no need to hold an occupation with how much money her family possessed, she was still an educated witch.

"Charms has always held a special place in my heart," Narcissa mused. "I might have fancied myself Charm-master at one point, but life got in the way." Marrying Lucius and raising Draco had swept her away from those dreams, but she wasn't regretful; her life was pleasant, and she enjoyed the company of her family immensely.

"Maybe you will become one, one day," Hope offered with a smile.

"Perhaps," Narcissa conceded, turning the Abraxan she was riding gradually with Hope's following suit, circling them steadily back towards the stables.

"I thought we were going to ride a bit longer?" Hope asked her, a bit flummoxed.

"Ah, and leave our tea to cool, Heiress Potter? I think not."

Hope couldn't stop the peals of laughter bubbling from her lips at the words. In truth, she found horse-riding to make her a bit sore, but, then again, she wasn't very used to it, and she was grateful when she could hop down off of Thanatos' back, patting at his neck as she led him back into his stall.

Narcissa led her back into the manor and into the drawing room which was a tastefully decorated as the parlour had been, and Hope wasn't surprised. If nothing else, the Malfoys had very fine taste.

The lady of the house gestured to the free couch for Hope to sit down on, taking care not to practically sink into the cushions, like she usually did in her own home. She curled her legs and locked her ankles in the manner that Mindy had drilled into her whilst Narcissa snapped her fingers and a house-elf appeared bearing a steaming teapot.

"I hope you don't mind Earl Grey," Narcissa said as the house-elf poured his mistress a generous cup, handing it to her before pouring Hope some as well and then disappearing in a loud crack.

"I don't mind," Hope assured her, "personally, I've had a bit too much of the Jasmine Tea."

"Not a bad choice," Narcissa concurred, taking a small sip, looking over her teacup's rim to her guest, who was looking around the room in fascination as she sipped from her teacup. "What is it?"

"It's nothing, Lady Narcissa," Hope said, her eyes shifting from the room to her host. "My home is just a bit darker than yours…and yours is inspiring me to make a few changes."

Curtains were, for the most part, drawn shut and shadows were nearly always present in Potter Manor. Hope didn't necessarily mind the shadows, as there had been a time when shadows had once been her friends as she crept around when the Dursleys were all asleep.

"I take it that it's been some times since someone lived in your manor?" Narcissa asked delicately.

Hope's lips twitched. Narcissa didn't quite know what kind of home Hope lived in, and it was easy to assume that an heiress lived in a manor, as it was typical of those from old families.

"My grandparents, Lord Charlus and Lady Dorea were the last, since my father and my mother lived together after they graduated from Hogwarts," Hope agreed before taking another gulp of the tea, ignoring how it scorched down her throat. "Sometimes it feels more like it's still their home, rather than mine." It was a feeling that Hope had always had. The manor was so big and…it was just her, Remus, and Mindy…there were so many rooms that Hope didn't touch and had never been in.

"Perhaps you should make yourself more at home there."

Hope forced her attention back to the present as she blinked at the Lady Malfoy. "In what manner, my lady?"

"Something of your own design," Narcissa said gesturing around the room as an example, "when I first married my husband I made the manor my own through decoration…perhaps you could do something similar at your own."

"Perhaps," Hope agreed, contemplation flooding her face as she drained her teacup and set it back on the small tray. "Thank you for the tea and the suggestion."

It was true that Hope hadn't been at Malfoy Manor but she still felt a bit uneasy about remaining in the manor when there was a chance of Lucius Malfoy returning at any moment and though Hope did like Narcissa, she did not hold the same feelings for the Death Eater. And Narcissa could understand her feelings and be respectful towards them.

So the blonde-haired witch replaced her cup of tea on the tray as well before leading her guest back into the parlour once more where her house-elf had popped suddenly into existence as though silently summoned.

"Thank you, Lady Narcissa," Hope gave a short bow –not a curtsy, Narcissa was amused to note– before taking the cloak the house-elf had offered her, sweeping it up and over her shoulders. The movement shifted the thick fringe over her brow and for a brief moment Narcissa could see the faint outline of her scar, but then the fringe fell back into place. "Perhaps one day you will come to see my home."

It was custom to offer one what you were offered by them, and Narcissa appreciated the sentiment, especially given her family's background.

"One day," she agreed. "Until then, Heiress Potter."

Hope took Mindy's hand and the disappeared in a sharp crack.

"Mistress should change for dinner," Mindy said, taking the cloak from her mistress once they returned, Apparating directly into Hope's room as opposed to the front door, hanging up the cloak in her large wardrobe (large, mostly, because of how little clothes Hope had compared to the sheer number of books she possessed).

"Do I have to?" Hope asked, not caring how whiny she sounded. Her tunic was tasteful and it wasn't like she needed to wear her robes all the time.

Mindy cast her a reproachful glance and Hope muttered something under her breath that made the house-elf prod her leg with a bony finger, something that Hope found to be not all that comfortable.

"Fine," Hope grumbled, riffling through the clothes on the hangars before giving up and opting for the denim and plaid she'd been wearing before and if Mindy disagreed with her choice in clothes, she certainly didn't mention it.

Then she descended the stairs to enter into the drawing room to see Remus still sitting with Minerva McGonagall, though it seemed they were nearly finished with all the paperwork that was required in order for her, Hermione, and Daphne to skip two years.

Minerva McGonagall, Hope knew, had been the Transfiguration professor and her parents' Head of House when they'd been in Gryffindor during school, and was the Deputy Headmistress under Albus Dumbledore. But she wasn't quite what Hope had been expecting with her hair spun into a rigid bun with a perpetual stern expression on her face.

But she looked fairly competent, taking her at face value, though she wouldn't actually know that until she had spent some time in her classroom.

Both looked up when she entered the room to sit down on the armchair in the corner of the room and she smiled as the tension in Remus' shoulders eased, making it clear just how worried about her he'd been.

"Had a nice time?" he asked her.

"I'm going to tell Grandfather that there's an Abraxan named after him," Hope said, resting her cheek on her hand, her lips twitching. "I think he'll get a kick out of that."

Remus gave a small chuckle, though the professor could only look on in confusion, and Hope very dearly wanted to say "Oh, Grandfather, you know, the god of death, Thanatos?" She'd probably be carted off to the magical hospital faster than she could finish that sentence.

"Yes, I think he would," Remus hummed in agreement, his eyes twinkling as he gestured towards the older witch sitting at his side. "And, since you were in such a hurry before, this is Professor Minerva McGonagall."

Hope scrutinized her with narrowed eyes for a brief second before giving the witch a slight wave of her hand. "Hello," she said. "I'm Hope Potter."

"Oh, I know," the woman said with a sad smile that made a muscle jump in Hope's jaw. "You look very much like your mother."

Hope didn't agree. But Hope hadn't grown up seeing a face like hers as a student or a friend. She didn't wince every time she saw her reflection like Remus had when they had first met. Hope Potter was a Metamorphmagus with hair in tangled curls, sharp cheekbones, and an angular face that she'd inherited from her parents. She had a scar like lightning on her forehead that she'd inherited from a Dark Lord. She had a love for Earth Magick and Blood Runes that she had inherited from Morea Avis.

A crease appeared on her brow. "I look like myself," she said instead.

And the smile the professor gave her was one of understanding before Hope had Mindy drop her beyond the borders (burning the parchment that had listed nearby coordinates; call Hope paranoid, but she didn't fancy the idea of anyone coming round that she didn't approve of, especially if they were Albus Dumbledore).

"What d'you think of flowers?" Hope asked Remus once his old professor had gone and the werewolf blinked in surprise.

"For dinner?" he asked, a bit flummoxed by her question, and that actually coaxed a laugh out of her.

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed. "I'm thinking of building something related to flowers…besides, it's your pick for dinner, remember?"

He rolled his eyes and ignored her as he pulled the newspaper towards himself.

The next morning Remus was gone by the time she made her way downstairs with the sketchbook she used to draw runes into before she'd been too busy during tutoring (which was frankly a bit of a tragedy).

But Hope wasn't worried once she caught sight of the scrap of parchment on the dining room table bearing Remus' untidy scrawl that simply said: Went out, hopefully will be back by lunch –Remus

Hope scrutinized the parchment, arching an eyebrow before shaking her head, pulling out a jacket and her trusty boots. She stuck a pencil behind her ear and grabbed up an apple before making her way outside tossing a yell to Mindy to tell her where she was, and if Mindy needed her for something, she would at least know where to start.

She pursed her lips as she walked with her head tilted back, focusing on the treetops, in particular, the highest reaching treetops, which, consequently, were the ones with the best view.

Tree-climbing had always been something she was good at, and it was something that she blamed Margery Dursley for, with that psychotic dog of hers that had enough sharp teeth to send a younger Hope up a tree (not cowardice, just self-preservation) faster than most could blink.

But Hope was gaining an appreciation for all things that grew now that she was doing more research into Earth Magick, so even if she hadn't had some (negligible) skill in tree-climbing, she still would have been up a tree.

Now the difficulty would getting up the tree with her sketchbook, apple, and without losing the pencil she'd tucked behind her ear.

Hope frowned in contemplation, but she was always up for a challenge. So she stuck the apple in her jacket's pocket and lodged the sketchbook gently in her mouth, which probably wasn't the best course of action, but Hope needed both her arms to climb, so it would just have to do.

(Retrospectively, she could have shrunk it down to fit in her pocket as well, but Hope had left her wand at her bedside table and by the time she considered that she had already begun to climb)

The fir tree had more than enough branches for Hope to slowly weave her way up, looking back at the ground every so often. Hope wasn't afraid of heights, not really, but she doubted that she'd even been as high as she currently was. The highest she'd been before was when she was hiding from Dudley and found herself on the school roof (which was somehow a reason to punish her and not the little idiot that had chased her, forcing her to end up on the roof).

It didn't take her nearly as long as she thought it would have when she found herself on the top branch, locking her body carefully around the small trunk as she pulled the sketchbook from her mouth before flipping it open to blank page, pulling her pencil free and looking down on the manor.

She could see the pillars and the rustic colour of the bricks, she could see where the roof was flat and where it was slanted, she could see the balcony that connected to her room, its curtains billowing in the light breeze.

So Hope took the pencil and sketched out the rough outline of the house. She wasn't much of an artist, that much was true, but she didn't have to be, as this was just to help her figure out where she wanted to build what she planned to build.

There wasn't much around the back end of the manor, barring the greenhouse that was close to the side rather than the back, which left a lot of room for Hope to consider, and once she'd finished the rough outline sketch of the manor and the greenhouse all she could do was tap her lip thoughtfully with her pencil.

Perhaps she could make a bench swing…so she could read and do her research outside when it was nice out…and she could plant flowers around it, like lavender and roses and orchids and irises and…basically whatever kind of flower she remotely liked.

Hope bit into her apple as she etched charcoal across the page, drawing out a poorly sketched bench with some not very well drawn flowers strewn around it.

"Sounds like a plan," Hope murmured to herself, taking another bite of the apple before shoving it back into her pocked and climbing her way down the tree, only this time one handed, as she kept one hand on the sketchbook.

And when her feet were back on the ground once more, she was rushing inside to grab her book on Earth Magick before returning to the spot that she wanted to build the bench and then she knelt in the ground, opening the book and flipping through the pages, looking through the words that Morea had written carefully for beginners in the art to start with.

"Pánkos kataskevís," she breathed, the green of her eyes glowing briefly as she used the ancient magic, pressing the palm of her hand down to the ground and for a moment nothing happened, but the next second something shot out of the ground so fast that Hope had to recoil sharply in surprise, covering her face with her hands in an effort to protect it and when she removed them, she had to stare.

In front of her was a swinging bench carved from wood, gnarled and perfect and Hope couldn't help but grin.

"Mindy!" she called and the house-elf appeared quickly at her side, and if she was surprised by the sudden appearance of the bench, she didn't mention it.

"Yes, Mistress Hope?" she said with a short bow.

"I think this bench is in need of some cushions."

"Of course, Mistress," she said without so much as a blink. "Will Mistress be taking her lunch on the terrace or inside?"

"I'm thinking on the terrace," Hope hummed in contemplation, scrutinizing the bright grass from the sunlight and the recent rain. "Want to bring out a table?"

"Mindy would be happy to, Mistress," Mindy promised before snapping her fingers.

A table appeared atop a small area of stone, with two chairs joining it, and with the cushions moulding to the bench.

"What would Mistress like for lunch?" Mindy prompted Hope as the girl took a moment to gaze around.

"Hm…something with fish?" Hope suggested.

Mindy was so used to her vague orders that she said nothing about it, only giving Hope a short nod before returning to the kitchen to begin working on the lunch and Hope returned her attention to making flowers grow around the bench she had just grown from scratch.

Stems grew from the earth, sprouting flowers of violet, white, red, and anything in between. There were so many flowers that she was sure that when Remus arrived home he would have to wonder if he had come to the wrong manor by mistake.

But for now Hope could relax on the bench, prop her legs up, and continue reading from that book of hers.

Remus had known what to expect when Dumbledore had invited him back to the castle. He was sure that Minerva would have told him at least that Hope was one of three students skipping two years of schooling and that she was safe under the care of an old family friend.

But Remus had a feeling this was more than a courtesy call and he waited patiently for pleasantries to end and for his old headmaster to get down to business. And though he was very grateful for all that Albus Dumbledore had done for him, he had picked up some of Hope's cynicism about him regarding how she had come to live at the Dursleys.

"I hope you are well, Remus?" Dumbledore said politely, popping a sherbet lemon into his mouth.

"Tutoring pays very well," Remus responded easily, and he wasn't wrong. He had tried to refuse Hope's money, since he was staying in her home as well, but proof of payment had been required in order for him to teach them all, and the Potter and Greengrass families had footed the bill (much to Hermione's exasperation but also to her parents' relief).

"Yes, your three students, young Hope Potter, Hermione Granger, and Daphne Greengrass," Dumbledore nodded his head with a speculative glint in his eye. "An odd grouping, don't you agree?"

A Muggle-born girl fascinated with every type of magic imaginable, a Pure-blood girl from a Grey family with a head for politics and a love for old magic, and a Half-blood girl from a Light family that loved the Ancient Arts and ancient history. Frankly, there didn't seem to be all that much odd about them, but he might be a bit biased, after all, he had taught them all for months now.

"Sir?"

"It's Hope Potter that concerns me the most," Dumbledore said and Remus couldn't halt the tension spreading across his shoulders.

"In what manner?" he asked carefully, thinking of the time Hope had been so distracted in her reading that she had walked right into the wall and had sworn so bad that Mindy had been scandalized.

"The wards around the Dursleys' home were absolute," Dumbledore explained. "There is nothing stronger than Blood Wards."

"Those wards never existed," Remus said coolly, as the matter had been explained to him once by Thanatos himself. "Yes, being a blood-relative is one of the requirements of the wards, but familial love is also needed, which is why the wards failed to work and why they broke so easily after Hope left."

The twinkling in his old headmaster's eyes faded entirely. "I'm afraid I must insist that Hope return to her family's home."

"And I'm afraid it would be my duty to inform you that Hope is already at her family's home where there are more than enough sufficient wards to keep her safe." Remus stood with the use of his cane (the next full moon would be on them within a few days time and he could already feel a weakness in his leg), sweeping his cloak around him –new and not patched from so much use– and giving the old wizard a short nod. "Good day, Professor."

And then he was gone, leaving Albus Dumbledore with a small amount of annoyance.

If only he hadn't taught Remus Lupin legilimency, then perhaps he would know the location of where she was staying at.

She should have been kept at Number Four Privet Drive and she certainly should never have become friends with someone from a Grey family that so often leaned towards the dark…

"Lunch is on the terrace, Mister Remus," Mindy called from the kitchen as soon as Remus arrived back home and he called a thank you back to her before taking the back door out into the sunlight, and then he had to stare because he did indeed for a moment believe he'd stepped out of the wrong house.

There was a lovely swinging bench surrounded by flowers, so many flowers, with new vines running up the side of the building with small flowering buds, especially around Hope's balcony.

But Hope was still there, sitting at a table that had been set up not too far away, reading the front page of the Daily Prophet. Today her hair was a red much darker than her mother's, closer to spilled blood than anything else, but her eyes were the same impossible green (Remus had a feeling she liked that colour the best for her eyes) when she looked up as he joined her, lifting the paper with a smirk. "Apparently the Aurors have been looking for me for months, can you believe that?"

"Have they?" Remus asked, faintly surprised as he sat down, taking the paper from her.

Girl-Who-Lived Missing! The bold words declared. After several long months of tireless work, the Aurors have still found no sign of the missing defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a fact which was only recently discovered by the concerned Daily Prophet. Potter is believed to have been taken from her home despite the protective wards surrounding it, yet no trace of her has yet to be established anywhere…

"I think Grandfather might've done something," Hope hummed thoughtfully, "it seems like something he would do."

Remus had to agree with her there, the elusive and godly grandfather of hers did have a habit of keeping her safe and he was the one that had explained to her about what she was.

"Maybe I should give some sort of statement and explain that, you know, I haven't been kidnapped or anything," Hope contemplated.

Remus' eyebrows arched high on his forehead. "You want to give an exclusive interview to the Daily Prophet?"

"There have to be better reporters than Rita Skeeter is all I'm saying," Hope said, scowling at the woman's name.

She had done some research of the newspaper back when her parents had first gotten engaged and a young reporter had falsely speculated about the reason for their marriage right out of school –which wasn't all that rare, in fact, it was rather common– and for her father's marriage to a woman of lesser status. It was incredibly low and Hope was insulted that it had ever managed to be published.

"There probably are," Remus agreed as Mindy came out bearing two plates that smelled heavenly, "but Rita generally takes centre-stage…but if you do want to give an interview, I won't stop you, but you will have to be careful about what you say."

"You mean I shouldn't make it obvious how much I detest Dumbledore?" Hope asked him archly before smiling at Mindy and thanking her.

"Yes," Remus snorted, "that…or at least make it dislike and not detest, Dumbledore is rather well-liked in Britain."

"Wonderful," Hope muttered under her breath, cutting up the salmon before pausing as she gazed upon him with narrowed eyes. "Did he ask you to go and see him? Was that why you were gone when I woke up?"

Remus took a moment to swallow his mouthful of pumpkin juice before offering her an answer. "Yes," he admitted, "Dumbledore asked me to speak with him."

Hope breathed out sharply before spearing one of her salmon pieces and chewing furiously for a moment before swallowing and asking, "Well, what'd he say?"

Remus winced and Hope snorted. "That bad?"

"Well, he wanted you sent back to the Dursleys where you could be protected—"

Hope released a loud guffaw of laughter at that. "Protected? I'd like to see him run headlong into my wards and come out fine!"

Of course, Hope had inherited those wards but she was sure that one day when she'd learned a bit more about wards she might be able to add a bit more to them, but they were already a bit lethal, so it wasn't something to be too concerned about.

"Besides, the Dursleys were bad for my health," Hope grumbled under her breath, stabbing at her potatoes.

"All right, don't think about that, then," Remus said, tapping a finger against the table. "There's something you've forgotten about."

Hope stared at him strangely. "What?"

"Your birthday, Hope," Remus nearly sighed. "Your birthday is coming up in a few weeks and you haven't told anyone what you want."

"Oh, that," Hope said, drawing out the word, "I'm not really particular, get me some books, I guess."

Remus' eyebrow rose and he gave her 'the look'.

"All right," Hope muttered, "I kind of fancied a broom since I've never been flying before…but, you know, if it's not too much…"

Remus just smiled at her fondly. "Now if James were here he'd be halfway to the shop by now."

Hope flushed.

"Tell you what, if your interview goes well, I'd be more than happy to buy you a broom for your birthday," he told her with a smile, and the beaming grin he received in return was positively radiant in comparison.

Only James' daughter would be so excited about flying.

Barnabas Cuffe, Editor to the Daily Prophet, looked over the parchment that confirmed the identity of the girl sitting politely in front of him.

This was Hope Potter with her done up in a bronze knot, her green eyes clear, and her lightning bolt scar obvious on her forehead.

"Miss Potter, forgive me but I thought the best course of action would be to ascertain you were in fact who you say you are."

"That's fine," Hope said, waving a careless hand, "I understand rumours of my…disappearance have gotten out of hand."

That was one word to describe it.

"And I am flattered that you chose us at the Daily Prophet to interview you," he continued politely, "and you will, of course, be given the opportunity to choose an interviewer of your choice." Getting an exclusive with Hope Potter was the kind of interview that could make a career, and he knew better than to pressure a golden goose.

"Thank you, Mr. Cuffe," Hope said before he led her out into the chaotic office area and Hope had to stare at the sheer amount of people working and talking and rushing about.

Mr. Cuffe gave a loud piercing whistle that grated at Hope's hearing, but made all the chaos stop briefly, all the attention towards him and his very young guest.

"Who wants a chance at interviewing Hope Potter?" he asked after clearing his throat and practically every hand in the room shot right up.

"I've got this one, boys!"

Hope turned stiffly to arch an eyebrow towards the one that had spoken and she was by far the most ridiculously dressed woman she had ever seen with her red-painted talons (far too long to be nails), obnoxiously magenta robes, and bejewelled spectacles.

There were several voices bemoaning the loss as Hope spoke, "Rita Skeeter?"

"That's right, darling," the woman said, sickly sweet and Hope tried not to gag.

"I'd rather endure the Fields of Punishment," Hope told her shortly, incurring a short giggle from one of the other reporters and Hope's eyes moved towards the one from whom the noise had come.

She was easily one of the youngest there, if not the youngest, wearing a denim jacket with brown hair swept into a high ponytail and blue eyes shining with amusement. She was clearly more comfortable in Muggle attire than wizard, and Hope couldn't fault her for that; sometimes robes were downright uncomfortable.

Hope pointed at her. "What about you?"

The young woman started in surprise. "You want me to interview you?" She couldn't have made it plainer that Hope's response was the last thing she'd been expecting. "But I just started work here a few days ago."

"Which is why a more experienced—" Rita was cut off and Hope couldn't have cared less.

"Well, you're currently the only one not looking at me like I'm a piece of meat, so, yes, I'd like to have you interview me."

"Oh, all right then," she gathered up some rolls of parchment and an enchanted quill before leading the younger witch into a private room for the interview. "I'm Selene Jacobs," she added once Hope was settled. "But you could have picked anyone else…"

"You got my reference of the Fields of Punishment."

Selene gave her a small smile. "My dad was a bit of a nut about Greek myths, I'm guessing you like them?"

"All the way," Hope grinned. "So, how does this work? You just ask me questions?"

"Pretty much," Selene agreed, pulling out the parchment that the enchanted quill hovered over, preparing to write. "The quill's enchanted, but it's not like a Quick Quotes Quill, so it won't embellish or write unfavourably, just the facts. Ready?"

Hope nodded.

"A statement was released earlier concerning your disappearance. Can you explain how anyone could have considered you to be kidnapped?"

The quill scratched the question out and Hope cleared her throat.

"Well, I did run away last year, which is probably why it was assumed that I'd been kidnapped. It was probably easier to consider that I'd been kidnapped than voluntarily left," Hope said, scratching her cheek thoughtfully.

"What made you want to run away?"

Hope frowned. "After my parents were killed, I was placed in the care of my mother's sister, and her family had an unfortunate disgust towards all things magical, me in particular. If I was better at something than their son, I was punished, if I didn't do as I was told, I was punished. Leaving was a much healthier option for me."

Selene took in her words in a bit of surprise. "So your guardians were Muggles?"

"Yes."

"And do you think that as a witch raised by Muggles that magical children should be separated from their non-magical parents?" Selene asked; it was a rather endless debate that she wanted to hear Hope's view on.

"Oh, gods no," Hope said, startled. "One of my closest friends is a Muggle-born and her parents have been nothing but supportive. I think it depends more on the person than anything else. My mother's sister's family cared very much about what others thought and I just didn't fit into their ideal."

The quill scribbled before coming to a sharp stop.

"And where you are now, do you fit in?"

"Immensely," Hope said with a full smile, "and I'm well cared for."

Selene nodded. "As the only child of a Lord, I take it you are ingraining yourself into what has been famously coined 'Pure-blood society'?"

"A good deal, yes," Hope agreed with a bit of amusement at the word choice.

"And what's it like to learn all about magic and history and etiquette when you're already ten years old?" Selene prompted the young witch.

Hope's brow wrinkled as she contemplated her answer. "Well, it meant that I had to learn a bit more than other children of lords, I expect. They were used to it, it was something they grew up with, but I'd barely known about magic a week before I started learning all that."

"So when did you find out you were a witch?"

"I was told by my grandfather when he found me in a Muggle library looking up books on magic," Hope explained, "because by that time I'd noticed there were odd things going on around me, but I wasn't quite sure what I could call myself, so he explained."

"Your grandfather?" Selene prompted.

"Well, he's more of a distant relation than a grandfather," Hope acquiesced, "but he didn't mind me calling him that."

"Is he your guardian now that you've left your aunt's home?" Selene asked, and if she found it odd that Hope didn't mention her aunt as her aunt, only her mother's sister, she didn't mention it.

"Oh, gods no," Hope snorted, waving her hand carelessly as she did so, "he's far too busy, but he does pop in on me from time to time, usually to give me cryptic advice." She twisted the thick opal ring on her finger.

Selene caught how she didn't want to mention who was her current guardian, so, wisely, she drifted away from that.

"Do you have any views on the magical government? Positive or negative?"

"I think there are some laws that need to be seriously revised, particularly ones that limit the rights of those who suffer from lycanthropy, for one."

"And why do you feel that way?"

"Because punishing someone for something they can't control is just cruelty. I get that there are some bad werewolves out there, but there are also ones that just want to make a living," Hope insisted, "taking that away from them is taking away their rights."

Selene smiled kindly at her while the quill caught up to her words. "How do you feel about the fame surrounding you as the Girl-Who-Lived?"

"I think it's ridiculous," Hope snorted, rolling her eyes for good measure, "revering someone because a Dark Lord couldn't kill them or failed to kill them is the strangest thing I've ever heard."

And it was. Hope was beyond glad that Potter Manor was situated so far out in the countryside that she hadn't yet had to deal with anyone calling her that, apart from Remus' initial explanation of the title that had been attached to Hope Potter.

Hope Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived…was the Girl-Who-Didn't-Die-From-A-Killing-Curse-That-Should-Have-Killed-Her too long?

"I guess you spend a lot of time at home, then? Away from prying eyes?"

"Most days," Hope agreed, "but I was a guest at the Ministry's Winter Gala."

"And did you enjoy that?"

"I enjoyed hanging out with my friends," Hope corrected.

"Are you looking forward to going to Hogwarts for the first time?" Selene asked her.

"Yes, I am, I hear it's quite something, the castle, I mean."

"And are there any subjects you're looking forward to?"

"Ancient Runes," Hope said without missing a beat and Selene blinked, looking at her and then back at the scroll.

She knew all too well that Ancient Runes was a third year course yet Hope would be going into her first, but she didn't mention it, continuing with her questions.

Albus Dumbledore read the lines that had been printed under the bold title: Exclusive: Hope Potter Speaks Out. His mood grew steadily more sour as he read Hope's responses to her interviewer's questions (Selene Jacobs, a Ravenclaw that had graduated just last year with a love for reporting, and he was sure her name would be on the map now with the exclusive).

This was not what he had wanted, this was not what he had wanted at all.

She should have remained at Number Four Privet Drive, she should have stayed under those Blood Wards, because no matter what Remus Lupin believed, Albus was sure they were still functional, as long as he got her back there within the next two years, he was sure they would be as strong as ever.

But there were already so many things concerning about Hope Potter's behaviour.

She should never have befriended that Pure-blooded Grey witch, she should have made friends with one in one of the Light families, like the Weasleys or Bones'. The Greengrass family was worrying to him, but Hope could be weaned off Daphne Greengrass.

The second girl didn't concern him, seeing as she was a Muggle-born with no Dark or Grey leanings, but he'd keep an eye on her just in case.

Yet there was something else that worried Albus.

Hope Potter was a Metamorphmagus…which wasn't a bad thing, especially when one took into account that the last Metamorphmagus that had entered into Hogwarts had been Nymphadora Tonks, a Hufflepuff that had graduated just last year. No, it was the fact that Black blood was so strong in her, as that was the line from which Metamorphmagi were born. And the Black line was quite famous for being Dark; the marriage between Charlus Potter and Dorea Black had been surprising enough.

If he moved swiftly, his plans wouldn't have to be altered too terribly…there were already things in motion that he hadn't planned for and it was giving him a headache.

There was something about her that reminded him of Tom Riddle, the boy who made all the wrong choices…and using the Daily Prophet certainly was a clever move, she both confirmed that she was safe and well, but also gave her the opportunity to voice her beliefs on certain matters.

It was a Slytherin tactic, Albus was sure of it, but she would be sorted into Gryffindor, just as her parents had, she would want to live up to their memory, and Remus' who had looked after her for months now.

He knew it would have been better if she wasn't jumping two grades, but there was little he could do about that; the paperwork had already been filed.

So long as he kept darker elements away from her, he could turn her back towards the Light.

By the time July 31 rolled around, Hope was positively ecstatic, particularly because it meant her friends would come round for her birthday.

Daphne had been in Germany on a vacation of sorts with her family and Hermione had been catching up on her book reading, but seeing them again after so long –and it felt like forever!– was great for Hope.

They ate birthday cake out on the terrace –chocolate and baked specially in the shape of the rune Mannaz that looked somewhat like an arch and meant intelligence, creativity, and skill– before giving Hope her gifts.

Daphne had gotten her some books on the Ancient Arts that must have come from the Greengrass library and her parents had sent her with crystal earrings, while Hermione had gotten her another sketchbook for her runes and a book by JRR Tolkien that Hope hadn't read yet, The Silmarillion, and Hope was looking forward to reading it. Remus' Nimbus 2000 had Hope jumping up and down in excitement and Narcissa's delicate chain of sapphires was most unexpected, but she liked it all the same.

Once the gift-unwrapping and cake-eating was all concluded, they were ready to go to Diagon Alley with letters in hand. It had been decided before they'd arrived that once everything was done they'd go ahead and run to Diagon Alley to get their things for next term, so Mindy popped Hermione back to her parents' to hop in their car and meet Hope, Hermione, and Daphne at the Leaky Cauldron.

"There's no way anyone would want this many classes," Daphne decided fervently as they walked down the street, glancing down their supply lists. "Unfogging the Future? Divination? Really? You could find more substance in the Sibylline Books!"

"Weren't the Sibylline Books sought after, though?" Hope prompted only to grin when Daphne ignored her.

"Well, you won't be going to the class, so you don't have to worry about it," Hermione responded snippily, giving an exaggerated huff. "Besides, I do not have too many classes!"

Both her friends gave her identical dubious expressions at that. "Hermione," Hope said carefully, "I'm pretty sure you're taking every optional class you can…do you even have time to do all this?"

"Of course I do!" Hermione insisted with gleaming eyes, glancing around briefly before pulling up the golden chain she had dangling around her neck to reveal the small hourglass at its end.

Hope didn't have the faintest idea what it was, though clearly Daphne did, shooting a hand out to grasp it in complete surprise. "I don't believe it," she said, "who was mad enough to give an eleven year old witch a Time-turner?"

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said proudly, a growing smirk on her face. "I had a meeting with her and she said it wouldn't be the first time a Time-turner was used for schoolwork, but she made me promise only to use it on schoolwork, or she'd have to take it back and I'd have to drop some classes."

"Yes, heaven forbid you'd have to drop some classes," Hope said dryly, to the amusement of the adults trailing behind them, "how scandalous."

Hermione jabbed her in the side.

"Now who's going to explain to me what a Time-turner is?" Hope asked, throwing a hand out to her side and clipping the bloke who was walking in the opposite direction, nearly causing him to drop the books in his arms.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Hope apologized quickly. "I wasn't looking where I was going!"

She was practically pooling in embarrassment, but the lad gave her an easy smile that lit up his blue eyes.

"Don't worry about it," he assured her, "I'd probably would have run into you sooner or later."

That coaxed a small smile out of Hope as she shook her head as the ginger-haired boy moved to rejoin his family not all that far away.

"He was cute," Daphne mentioned when he was gone and Hope smacked her side with her arm.

"That was so embarrassing, imagine if he'd fallen!"

"She'd probably find it funnier," Hermione snorted, and Daphne's grin was positively devilish.

"She's right, it would have been hilarious!"

Hope scowled at the blonde-haired witch. "You know, I'm not entirely certain what possessed me to think that befriending you was a great idea."

"I'm sure you're aware that we're all a little bit insane," Daphne nearly sang, throwing an arm around Hope's shoulders and drawing her thumb and pointer finger close together to show how insane they all were.

"Oh, for the love of the gods!" Hope bemoaned. "Let's just get our books, all right?"

"Don't worry, I'm rubbing off on you," Daphne assured her.

"That's not necessarily a good thing," Hermione interjected with a bit of amusement.

"Depends on the day, really."

And they all laughed before entering Flourish and Blotts, eager to begin the next stage of their life, eager to begin their first year at Hogwarts, which was consequently their third year of school.

And Hope thought she was far better off than the girl that had been living at Number Four Privet Drive just last year, and for that, she was glad.

AN: For all of you that felt like you were going through Geope withdrawal, I give you a brief interaction between the two. Remember, this relationship is going to be more developed as friends first, so there won't be nearly as much flirting as there was in Looking Beyond.

Dumbledore's having some issues with how he wanted Hope to turn out, but too bad.

Acromantula Silk belongs to Elle Roche and ExcentrykeMuse's fic Of Power and Prestige.

As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

*Chapter 9*: The Inevitable Choice

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Nine: The Inevitable Choice

AN: I think I may have confused some of you with the 'I figured I'd run into you at some point' comment George made to Hope. This is because he's carrying a lot of books and was about to collide with her side, not because he knows who she is, he doesn't have any idea who she is.

Someone mentioned Hermione was supposed to tell people that the Time Turner was a Spimster Wicket and I had never heard the term before, since it's from Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, and I've never read that fic, and I like Hermione being upfront with her friends.

It was late into the night on July 31, but Hope Potter was still awake in her room, even after Remus had long since gone to sleep.

The day had been very nice, she couldn't deny that, it had been the first birthday she'd had where the day itself wasn't entirely ignored like it was when she'd lived with the Dursleys. The Grangers had been very kind even though they'd hung back with Remus so that the girls could have their fun.

Hope fiddled with the latch on her new trunk, flipping it open. The trunk itself was lovely to look at, and even though it was new, it had that distinct worn-in quality that Hope liked, with spiralling black designs over the rosewood. HP was stamped on one side of the trunk and ES on the other.

The reason Hope liked had little to do with the fact that it was nice to look at, and more to do with the fact that it had several compartments within the trunk through the use of an extension charm. The shopkeeper who had sold it to her had told her the type was typically favoured by those that were Aurors, but Hope just wanted a place to put all her books.

She yanked the library compartment up before pulling her letter from Hogwarts back towards her.

The envelope had read: Miss H. Potter, Potter Manor, Wales. Which had made Hope a bit uneasy, but it was enchanted to reach the witch or wizard it was addressed to, regardless of if their address was known or not, and no one other than Ragnok, Hope's friends, Daphne's parents, and Remus knew exactly where the manor was located (even Minerva McGonagall wasn't quite sure about its location, since the coordinates she'd been given were slightly off).

Hope read the letter again:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

Hope had thought it was a bit ironic that they were awaiting her owl by the day she'd actually gotten her letter, but she'd sent a reply back that very morning by the same owl that had brought the letter to her.

Uniform:

Students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

Course books:

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

Intermediate Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Numerology and Grammatica by Norma Rodgers

Spellman's Syllabary by Silenius Serebus

Application of Ancient Runes by Athene Zakros

Other Equipment:

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope set

1 brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

It had looked a bit to Hope that the letters to Hope, Hermione, and Daphne had been a combination of what was sent to first years, and what was sent to third years. Obviously, the girls had never been to Hogwarts, so the uniform was something they had needed to be made aware of, and the other equipment had been just in case they hadn't already any of it.

Hope riffled through the books she'd bought that day, pulling out the ones on the list that were new to her (which was: Application of Ancient Runes, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, Numerology and Grammatica, Spellman's Syllabary, The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3),and Intermediate Transfiguration) and placing them on the shelves in the trunk before searching her room for the other books she'd already had and shelving them beside the other books only to earn a sharp hoot from the corner of her room and Hope turned to grin at the snowy owl that she had taken to when they'd gone into the Eeylops Owl Emporium for an owl for Daphne, but Hope had yet to give the female owl a name.

"Well, what kind of name do you want?" Hope asked her. "Something Greek?"

The owl gave her what she was sure was the owl-equivalent of a lip curling in disdain.

"All right, then, I'm sure I'll come up with something Hope sighed, pulling History of Magic out of the trunk, flipping through the pages to toss out names to the owl.

"How about Athela?"

"Bronte?"

"Cleva?"

"Edmonda?"

Hope could safely say that she had never met an owl quite so opinionated, though it was also safe to say that she didn't have any other experiences with owls to compare it against. By the time Hope had reached the various female 'H' names within the book, she was about to give up.

"All right, what about Hedwig?" she asked a bit despondently.

But the owl, to her surprise, gave a pleasant hoot, which was probably the best response Hope had received concerning possibly names for the owl.

"You want to be called Hedwig?" she repeated a bit dubiously, surprised that the stubborn owl (how could she be considered anything less when she'd gone through a good twenty names before coming to a stop at Hedwig) had made a choice before Hope had even fallen asleep.

The owl made a noise of agreement, flapping her wings up to her perch once more and Hope rubbed at her eyes tiredly; it was much too late in the night for Hope to be dealing with this.

Hope muttered a complaint under her breath before stuffing the book back into her trunk once more and pulling the covers over her head, forcing herself to ignore the world and fall asleep.

And the last thought that brushed her mind before sleep overtook her was: "It's far too red."

The next morning found Remus awakening to chaos, which was saying something because the chaos only usually reigned when Daphne and Hermione were over, and he was quite certain that Hope would have, to the very least, mentioned if her friends were coming over.

He only realized it was something else entirely when he opened his door to blink blearily at Hope in the corridor wearing her plaid and denim like she was off to chop some more lumber (though they had far too much at this rate), her hair short and spiky and an odd shade of turquoise.

"Up and at 'em, Remus!" she called. "It's cleaning day!"

"It's what?" Remus replied blankly, his eyes shifting from his friend's daughter to the house-elf following after her; Mindy gave a helpless shrug.

"Potter Manor is far too dreary for my tastes," Hope informed him, the mop over her shoulder balancing a bucket full of what looked to be full of rags and soapy water. "It's a house not a mausoleum, so we're going to brighten it up and clean it up, and throw out some things."

There was no denying that Hope had clearly felt like she was living in someone else's house, that had always been a bit obvious, but Remus had never felt it was in his place to comment on it. He was only a guest in the manor, after all, and it was only at Hope's request –as well as a desire to keep an eye on James' headstrong daughter– that he remained. Yet somehow it had actually become, in a way, his home too.

"How does Mindy feel about that?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow and Hope looked towards the house-elf whose face hadn't changed in expression.

"Mistress has the right to redecorate," Mindy said primly and Hope gave Remus a look that said: "So there!"

Still, it was a bit spur of them moment.

"What brought this on?" he queried.

Hope's eyes grew distant briefly, recalling the conversation she'd had with Narcissa, about how she should make the manor her own. Then her lips thinned. "I will not be a guest in my own house," she said determinedly with a daring glint in her eyes.

It was hard to tell which she looked more like in that instance, James or Lily, but Remus knew her expressions far too well by now to consider them anything but her own.

"Well," he said, "I'm going to take a shower so I'll meet you ladies when I'm done."

"We'll be in the drawing room," Hope informed him, all bright smiles and eager eyes, dancing away, the bucket swinging precariously on her mop (did she even need the mop? Mindy kept Potter Manor very clean, after all), somehow managing not to spill any of its contents.

All things considering, it wasn't all that much that Hope really wanted to change, after all, she loved things that were old, and if there was one that that Potter Manor, it was old.

The Potters had clearly never been ashamed to call themselves Gryffindors, and it showed in the furniture and the paint on the walls and the door knobs. It seemed to be a bit much to her.

The drawing room was one that Hope had always liked the way it was; it was undoubtedly one of her favourite rooms in the manor, even with the red of the pain plastered to the wall. She only had Mindy replace the carpeting with one that was slightly lighter in colour. She didn't mind that room being so red, especially when the colours went together so well.

Her room, on the other hand, needed some serious changes.

Because Hope Potter's absolute favourite colour was blue and she could only take so much of the red.

"Obviously some of the rooms can stay red," she was saying to Mindy with the manor's blueprints spread out in front of her, "but I don't want all of them to be red, can you, I don't know, vary the colours a bit?"

Hope had never redecorated a house before and she was floundering a little, half knowing what she wanted and half having no idea.

"What colours would mistress like?" Mindy asked her patiently, something that Hope couldn't help but admire her for.

Hope looked around her own room, its walls lighter and bluer than they had been an hour ago. The blue wasn't dark but it wasn't bright either, which made it the best colour, particularly for Hope.

"Whatever ones you think are best," Hope said after a long moment of realizing she had absolutely no idea what colours she'd like.

Mindy gave her a kindly smile. "Perhaps Mistress would like to go out for a bit while Mindy makes the changes?"

"Go out?" Hope said blankly. "Go where?"

Mindy's thin shoulders rose and fell. "Miss Daphne mentioned Corinth Crossroads. Perhaps Mistress would like to go shopping?"

Hope blinked in surprise. Corinth Crossroads was the Greek equivalent of Diagon Alley, only much more rustic and less regulated, as the British Magical Government liked to control what was being sold. They sold almost everything that money could buy, from food to books to furniture. Daphne's Nana took her and Astoria there to buy them gifts when they went to visit her and Daphne really liked it.

The next second Mindy blinked and Hope was out of the room shouting to Remus: "Remus! We're going shopping, come on!"

Mindy allowed herself an amused chuckle.

Corinth Crossroads was bustling with business, but the street wasn't nearly as narrow as Diagon Alley's so it was easier to meander through the crowd, Hope's eyes shifting from one shop to the next with avid interest.

She kept her arm looped through Remus', though that was more for his benefit than her own because the chances of Hope getting lost in the crowd were incredibly likely and Mindy wouldn't thank him for that.

The sunlight was shining down on them when Hope dragged him to a stop before a divination shop with a bit of interest in their wares. It was true she had never had much faith in divination, as she'd read a few books on the subject when trying to come up with which electives she should take for third year.

But she couldn't deny that she found the idea of using tarot cards or rune stones to predict the future a bit interesting.

She picked up a deck of those very cards, thumbing through the cards with interest. They seemed a bit worn, clearly second-hand, which explained why the asking price was so low. Then Hope's eyes caught on a black bag, full of small hour-glass shaped pieces of something that Hope would swear to be bone, into which was carved a rune, one on each piece.

Hope paid for them eagerly before leaving with Remus in tow, glancing down to her in a bit of amusement.

"And here I thought you didn't have much of an interest in divination," he remarked with a light snort.

"I'm a girl of mystery," Hope said, rolling her eyes and grinning for good measure and subsequently crashing into a red-haired girl who was speaking in rapid Greek into a compact mirror.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the girl apologized, grimacing as she shut the compact, her eyes wide, looking over Hope for any kind of damage. "I wasn't looking where I was going, my brother—"

She was clearly very harried, so Hope just said: "Don't worry about it, I have a tendency to run into people without meaning to."

The girl smiled sheepishly. "I'm Aggie Blackwood," she said and Hope's eyes widened.

"Hope Potter," she said, "you mean like Damian Blackwood?"

Aggie arched an eyebrow. "I guess you like pirates?"

"Pirates?" Hope said flummoxed for a brief moment before realization dawned. "Oh, that's right, he was the first mate on the Siren before he married Nelda Slytherin, wasn't he? Sorry, all I knew was that he's at the top of my family tree."

She missed Aggie's look of startled surprise as she dragged Remus off at the sight of a wondrous couch that she simply had to have, ignoring his "Hope, where on earth are you going to put this?"

Aggie pulled out her compact to mirror-call her mother.

Thalia Blackwood picked up in seconds. "Aggie, darling, aren't you supposed to be with your brother?"

"He ditched me to snog Dianthe," Aggie complained. "But, Mum, I thought there weren't any more descendants of Nelda Slytherin."

"What're you talking about?" her mother asked in confusion.

"I just ran into someone claiming to be descended from them," Aggie said, "someone named Hope Potter."

Thalia Blackwood didn't make it a habit to summon her ancestral grandfather, but today she would make an exception.

"Speak with me, Thanatos," she murmured once the incantation had been spoken and the centre of her palm burned.

"You always ask me so nicely, darling," came his honeyed reply and Thalia wasn't even surprised to see the god appearing from within the shadows. "How may I be of service?"

"Aggie met a peculiar girl today," said Thalia, her eyes sharp and her tone shrewd. "A girl who claimed to be the descendant of Nelda Slytherin and thus you."

"Ah." She could honestly say she had never seen a god look quite so awkward but Thanatos was doing an admirable impression.

"Why don't you tell me a little bit about little Hope Potter?" Thalia said, an eyebrow arched as if daring him to deny her and Thanatos gave a very put-upon sigh.

Hope woke up early on September 1, far too early. The sun wasn't even close to rising but Hope couldn't help but be filled with a jittery sensation. And for a brief few moments she wanted nothing more than to just be home schooled with Remus as her single teacher.

She remembered what it was like going to school with other students, even if those ones weren't magical. She knew what it was like to be looked at differently. Back then she'd been poor orphan Hope Potter, always accused of something yet nothing that was able to be proven. How many times had she been used as a scapegoat every time she did better on a test than anyone else? How many times did bullies trip or walk into trees that they would swear had just sprouted from the earth?

Hope sat in bed for the longest time, clutching her grandmother's book, Magick of the Earth, to her chest as though it was some kind of shield, her heart hammering in her chest and an anxious buzzing in her ears.

The sun had still yet to break over the horizon when she finally pulled herself out of the bed to flick on the lights and gather her clothes up to make her way into the bathroom.

Hope had learned a great deal from the Dursleys about hiding how she felt deep on the inside, so when she looked in the mirror, she wasn't too surprised to see that the nervousness didn't really show. She was a little pale but with Hope's tawny cheeks it was barely noticeable.

So she stepped under the spray of water, letting its warmth roll over her shoulders, releasing their tension and soaking through her hair.

It would be different, going to Hogwarts, that much she knew with certainty, because she, Hermione, and Daphne would be two years ahead of their age groups, and that itself would draw plenty of attention. And it didn't really help that Hope was still exalted with the name 'The Girl-Who-Lived' which she found more aggravating know that she realized how much thrall her name appeared to hold over the British Magical Community.

If there was a day to hate being Hope Potter, it was today.

And then there was no guarantee that she and Hermione and Daphne would all end up in the same house at Hogwarts, and Hope couldn't imagine what it would be like if they were all in separate houses, then it'd be even less likely that they'd end up in the same classes at the same time (barring Hermione, of course, taking as many electives as possible).

Hope rinsed her hair out one last time before pulling herself out of the tub to get dressed.

Once she'd dressed in her school robes ("It's probably better if you go there in your robes the first time around," Remus had told her, "that way you won't have to worry about changing on the train with everyone else. Of course, most go to the station in Muggle clothes, as it attracts less attention, but it's up to you."), she worked on her mess of tangled hair.

Mindy had gifted her a brush that could fix hair into a number of ornate styles, which, Hope supposed, was her way of trying to keep her looking like the heiress she was while Hope was at school, and in a matter of seconds she had her hair knotted up into a curly plaited bun.

Hope frowned at her image reflected in the mirror before tugging a sprig of lavender from the bouquet resting on her desk and spearing it through the bun, then she nodded approvingly, opening the door and heading downstairs.

The house was quiet and cold, but Hope had expected that, after all, it was rather early in the morning; no one was really expected to be awake yet.

When she made her way into the drawing room, the first thing she did was put a log in the hearth shortly before lighting it, before picking up her copy of The Hobbit which she'd left lying around, the bookmark just short of falling out.

She cast her eyes towards the grandfather clock in the corner –which was, ironically, a gift from Thanatos, which also explained why there was a rather morbid carving into the wood depicting a skeletal man in robes clutching a scythe– but she had a few more hours, at least until Remus awoke or Mindy started on breakfast.

The time passed slowly until Remus joined her in the dining room for eggs and sausage. He looked worse than Hope was feeling, which was rather impressive, to say the least, but, then again, the full moon would be upon them that very night, which he would be spending without her.

It made Hope want to linger; she'd grown far too used to Remus' presence over the past year and she knew she was going to miss him and Mindy something fierce.

"Are all your things packed?" he asked once he'd swallowed enough pumpkin juice to bring him a bit more awake, but the clear exhaustion in his voice made Hope take a long drink of her own before answering.

"Pretty much," Hope said, "Hedwig's enjoying as much time as she can get outside of her cage."

Remus gave a light chuckle at that. "That owl is very opinionated."

"Hedwig's got more class than you, old man," Hope sniggered and his lips curled upwards into a smile as he took one last bite of the food before him (it looked to Hope as though he couldn't stomach very much of it, but she didn't comment) before checking his watch.

"The train doesn't leave until eleven," he said, "but I've found that most tend to show up within the last hour, so you might have more luck snagging a compartment showing up a bit earlier."

"That's the plan," Hope sighed, digging her palm into her eye as she yawned. "Hermione and Daphne are showing up sometime around nine or ten."

"Then we'll want to leave soon," Remus said before casting a wary eye over Hope. "Hope, did you stay up late again?"

"I'm an early riser," Hope said, skating around the question, pulling herself out of the chair to head upstairs and grab her things, leaving Remus to shake his head in exasperation.

The morning was crisp and cool, the breeze fluttering Hope's light coat as she walked on.

They got a few odd looks as Hope had her trunk and everything else she'd brought with her, including one disgruntled snowy owl who would have rather been flying free, after all, why would an eleven year old girl be bringing an owl to a train station, but Hope did her best to ignore them.

The typical black robes that students wore at Hogwarts were tucked into the top of her trunk, because that would be a bit more difficult to explain.

"You are going to go through the barrier between platforms nine and ten," Remus said and Hope balked slightly, twisting to look at him with a stunned expression.

"Through the barrier?" she repeated dubiously, eyeing the bricks and knowing running into bricks was going to do more damage than anything else.

Remus gave her a smile before cocking an eyebrow. "It's a gateway to the platform, Hope, you didn't honestly think that a station platform taking Wizarding children to and from a magical schoolwould be out for all theMuggles to see?"

A hot flush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks. She hadn't really looked up to much information about Hogwarts (she had Hogwarts, A History, of course, but she hadn't read too much of it) but she hadn't really considered how she was supposed to really get to Platform Nine-and-three-quarters, especially since platform numbers were rarely anything but whole.

Hope coughed loudly to hide her embarrassment, but it didn't help very much and she could hear Remus' light laughter. "So, er, just walk through it and that's how you get to the platform?"

Remus gave a nod of agreement and Hope considered the wall briefly but Remus had gone through it before so he would know better.

Hope took a deep breath, tightening her grip on the handle before moving forward. She didn't run, but she did walk very fast and one second she was outside the barrier, pressing her cart against brick, and the next second she beyond it and staring in a bit of awe.

She was on a different platform now, one that had a scarlet steam engine waiting to depart, steam disgorging from the smoke stack on top of it. There were a number of people on the platform, nowhere near as many as she was sure there would be closer to the departure time, some of them students and their parents, others wearing uniforms, helping get trunks situated.

"Whoa," she said as Remus made his way through the barrier to join her. "I wasn't really expecting it to be this big."

Remus probably would have said something, maybe even laughed, but at that point she caught sight of Daphne standing not far away.

"Daphne!" Hope directed her cart forward, a bright smile on her lips, one that Daphne was quick to return when she saw her coming, giving her friend a wave.

"Hi, Hope!"

Daphne was standing with her younger sister and her mother and father, all blonde and beautiful, making Hope glad her default hair colour was black.

"How was Greece?" Hope asked her as she came to a stop with her luggage, still grinning.

"Warm," Daphne said, while Remus greeted his old schoolmates. Atreus Greengrass, who hadn't seen Remus even during the time that Daphne was being tutored by him, spoke kindly to the werewolf, asking him what he'd been up to. "You and Hermione should come sometime, the manor is big enough and the sea is amazing to swim in."

"Ugh," Hope groaned before giving Astoria a small smile from where she was tucked into her sister's side. "I didn't even think about swimming, but I did some redecorating at the manor, so I was a bit busy…I did visit Corinth Crossroads, though."

"It's cool, right?" Daphne said, her eyes glittering. "'Storia got some pretty sweet earrings from there, she never takes them off."

Astoria giggled, tucking a loose blonde lock behind her ear to expose the bronze-shaped arrowheads hanging from her ears.

"Nice," Hope complimented. "I like it a lot better than Diagon Alley…it's got a more, you know, rural feel."

"That's why Nana likes it," Astoria piped up.

"There they are!"

Hope and Daphne turned to see Hermione rushing forward, cheeks flushed with colour and eyes holding an eager light. Her thick curls had been tugged into a tight French braid and Hope got the feeling that finding Hermione without her hair in a French braid would be a rarity (it had the added plus of both keeping her hair out of her face while she studied and controlling her sometimes unmanageable curls).

"Hi!" Hermione threw her arms around both her friends once she got close enough with her mother following after her, a little thrown by the platform that she hadn't known existed until a moment ago.

"And here I was thinking you were going to be ridiculously late," Hope said dryly with a laugh, flicking the end of Hermione's plait as she did so.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why would I be late? I had everything packed the night before!"

The girls all laughed before Daphne said in a doubtful tone that was so clearly faked: "I don't know, you probably kept forgetting to add some books and had to keep going back for them."

Hermione glowered and Hope was sure that Daphne had hit the nail on the head with that one. "I've spent too much time with you two."

Hope smirked and Daphne sniggered.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Hope drawled before squeezing Hermione's elbow to draw her attention towards Hope. "You know what we should do next year, go to Corinth Crossroads together!"

Hermione's brow furrowed briefly. "Is that the Greeks version of Diagon Alley?" she asked after a moment of gathering her thoughts and remembering the phrase from something Daphne had mentioned before.

"Only better," Daphne said with Astoria bobbing her head in agreement. "Right, Hope?"

"Oh, I so need to go back," Hope lamented with a sigh, "they had a bookshop I didn't really get to look at…"

There was a sudden spike of jealousy within Hermione. "You two went together?" She kept her voice level, so they didn't notice anything off about the way those words were spoken.

But Daphne shook her head, swinging the arm of the hand that was linked with her sister's. "'Storia and I went with our Nana when we went down for a visit –she likes to spoil us–, I think Hope was looking for some ways to redecorate the manor."

Hermione's jealousy faded as her eyes widened. "You're redecorating the manor?" she said, startled. "Why?"

It was a well-known fact by now just how much Hope loved old-fashioned things, which explained a great deal about so many things about Hope. Still, Hermione couldn't imagine Hope voluntarily changing Potter Manor when she loved it so much.

"Too much red," Hope said with a shudder. "I mean, I'm sure that there have been a lot of Gryffindors in the family, but I'm descended paternally from Salazar Slytherin, so some of the red just had to go."

"So you decided to paint your house green?" Hermione repeated dubiously and Daphne laughed beside Hope as the green-eyed witch wrinkled her nose in aggravation.

"I put Mindy in charge of the colour scheme," she said decisively. "There's still some red –and beige, I suppose–, but now there's also some blue and some green, not bright green, obviously, I think Mindy would have had to put her foot down about that."

Hermione just shook her head in exasperation. It was good, at least, that Mindy had an eye for interior design.

Atreus and Remus were getting the last of the girls' things situated in the compartment they were standing before and it was only then that Daphne and Hope noticed the wicker basket Hermione was holding, and only because a plaintive meow left it abruptly.

"You got a cat?" Daphne asked, eyebrows arching as she bent down slightly to look into the wicker basket with difficulty, but it was impossible to see the type of cat.

"Early birthday present," Hermione said brightly, "and also for jumping two years. Mum and Dad were both so proud that they let me get a pet."

"I got Hedwig," Hope said, jerking a thumb towards the compartment where Hope's trunk had been situated high above the seats and with Hedwig restless in her cage beside it. "She's a classy lady."

Hedwig gave a hoot of agreement that made the girls laugh.

The number of people preparing to board was increasing now that they were getting closer to departure time. There was now a pleasant buzz of noise from the gathering people, greeting old friends and saying long goodbyes to their families.

Hope wrapped her arms around Remus' middle and he gave her a tight squeeze of his own. "You'll look after yourself, won't you, Hope? Going to Hogwarts is a big adjustment."

"I know," Hope said, "but I'm good at looking after myself, Remus, you know that." After all, she'd managed fine without him keeping an eye on her for awhile. Remus thought it was best not to point out that she'd had Mindy looking after her during that time. "I'll owl a lot, I promise. I'm sure you'll find a way to keep busy, though."

Remus gave her a smile in return. Tutoring had paid very well, that much was true, but he was considering taking on some jobs in the Muggle word while Hope was away at school, because he knew that no one in the Wizarding one would willingly hire a werewolf.

"I'm sure I will," he said, telling her none of his plans, but knowing she wouldn't disagree with him, it was more likely she'd get steamed again about the laws restricting werewolves. "I'll see you at Christmas. And I won't say to stay out of trouble, because I find that very unlikely given who your father was."

Hope's eyes glittered hazel as she released him, making to follow Daphne and Hermione aboard when a red-haired lad cut swiftly in front of her.

Scrutinizing eyes cast over him. "Didn't I walk into you in Diagon Alley?" she queried out loud and the boy turned around, surprise in his blue eyes.

"Probably was my twin," he decided after a moment of trying to recall if he'd been walked into by someone looking like Hope.

Hope's eyebrows rose. "Sweet Hestia, there's two of you?"

The boy snorted. "Identical, yeah, I'm Fred Weasley by the way."

Hope nodded, but she didn't give her name, something that appeared to amuse him as he stepped onto the train with her following after. "First year?" he guessed.

"Third," Hope corrected with a sigh. "My friends and I did two years in one."

"Sounds like a terrible idea," Fred said, an expression of incredulity crossing his face.

Hope shrugged.

"Oi! Fred, over here!"

Down the corridor Hope could see a boy identical to the one she was speaking to.

"That's my twin, George," Fred said with a wink, "he's probably the one you ran into, don't worry, I'm more memorable."

Hope laughed as he made his way towards his brother and she ducked into the compartment where Hermione and Daphne were getting situated.

"Was that the bloke you almost knocked over in Diagon Alley?" Daphne asked her shrewdly.

"His twin brother actually," Hope responded, sitting down beside Hermione. "Identical twins, can you imagine that?"

Hermione shook her head. "There's a reason I'm a single child."

"Why mess with perfection, right?" Hope grinned widely and Daphne rolled her eyes, being the only one of them who had a sibling. Hermione snorted as the train began to move forward.

"So," Daphne added, ignoring what Hope had said rather effortlessly, "what did you end up getting at Corinth Crossroads?"

Hope ticked off on her wings, "Oh, some lamps, an old chest, a really cool couch, a pentacle pendant—" She pulled the pendant in question out from under her neckline in order to show it to them. "—some candles, a couple cool-looking flasks, a few smudge sticks…"

"What're you doing with smudge sticks?" Daphne asked bemused.

She received a shrug in reply. "There's a section on smudging in my book of Earth Magick, so I figured I might as well buy some, I mean, they might just sit around in my room, or I might try to purify the house."

"Does your house need purifying?" Hermione asked. She had read the Magick of Wicca extensively since Hope had gifted it to her back when she turned eleven, and there was a short few paragraphs concerning the use of smudge sticks.

"Well, I don't think it's the first time that people have died in it," Hope muttered, the fringe curled over her brow, hiding her scar from view gained a blue streak briefly.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a cranky meow coming from Hermione's wickerwork basket and Hermione started, making sure their door was latched before undoing the one on the basket, allowing the cat out into the compartment.

It was rather odd-looking, Hope had to admit, now that she could see it clearly. It was ginger with thick fur and a squashed-looking face. Hope couldn't quite recall ever seeing a cat that looked that way this one did.

"This is Crookshanks," Hermione said glowingly as the cat hopped up to her lap, plopping itself down there, giving off the distinct impression that to move would be too much effort. "I was going to get an owl, but then I saw him, and, well, he's mine now." She ran her hands through his fur, earning a rumbling purr from the cat.

"Besides, the school's got owls you can use anyways," Daphne pointed out and Hermione hummed in agreement.

Hope diverted their attention by snapping her fingers. "Oh, I almost forgot, I got some rune stones and a deck of tarot cards."

"Isn't that for divination, though?" Hermione mentioned. "You don't really like divination."

Hope gave a loud cough. "I don't like some divination," she conceded, "it's not exactly a solid subject—"

"And it's a bit of a joke at Hogwarts," Daphne interjected.

"I don't like prophecies," Hope corrected.

"I had a great-great-aunt or so who was an oracle," Daphne said, arching an eyebrow, "Phemonoe Greengrass."

"Yeah, but if someone makes a prophecy about something else then they're going to end up doing it, aren't they?"

"This has to do with some mythology doesn't it?" Hermione considered with narrowed eyes.

"All right, consider this, there's this bloke named Acrisius who is told a prophecy that he will have no sons and his grandson will kill him, so he locks his daughter in a tower –long story short, Zeus sires a son by her named Perseus, but the king doesn't want to kill his daughter so he locks them in chest and sends them out to sea and years later Perseus kills his father accidentally by a flying discus."

"You know far too much about the Greek myths, if you ask me," Daphne said.

"I'm descended from Thanatos, it's hard not to," Hope said blandly. "My point is, prophecies are made and then people expect them to be true because other people try to stop them and then cause them at the same time. I mean, that's basically most of what happened in Ancient Greece. Prophecies are like bad omens, knowing too much about the future is never good, but rune stones and tarot cards don't give that much away and usually a bit vaguer."

They fell into a short stint of silence while the other two contemplated Hope's reasoning; she had never had what anyone would call remotely normal views.

Hope watched the plains darting past the window as she looked out it, the train moving steadily farther and farther from the centre of London. It was going to be a long ride, so she settled in, leaning her head against the window, the glass cool against her cheek.

She faintly heard Daphne asking Hermione if she wanted to play a game of chess before she pulled out her grandmother's book once more, opening to the page that she had stopped on.

Normally she didn't like very much to read while moving, but the train rolling over the tracks wasn't nearly as jerky as she had imagined it would be, so it didn't give her a headache as she read the words that had been so carefully etched with quill and ink:

Earth Magick is, at its core, the truest of the Nature Magicks, spells can be drawn from the surroundings or from within the caster. But there is more than one type of magick use than incantations and potions. Divination is an art that is so often led astray, but it still falls in line with Earth Magick. Rune stones and tarot cards are the most common usage of this art as tea leaves and crystal ball readings can be misread. Rune stones and tarot cards involve focusing one's magick inwards to draw out particular events in the future. It is true that they cannot be taken completely as fact, but rune stones and tarot cards have proven far more reliable than prophecies…

They were interrupted briefly by a young boy named Neville who had apparently lost his toad and Hermione offered to help him look for it, disappearing for a short amount of time only to come back annoyed saying: "None of those prefects thought to use the summoning charm!"

"That's not until third or fourth year," Daphne had pointed out, "the question is why do you know what it is?"

Hermione's cheeks had pinked. "Because I looked ahead, obviously."

Then they'd been interrupted by a woman bearing a trolley holding an assortment of sweets, but all three girls passed, as they'd been sent on the train with packed lunches, but it didn't help that Hermione's parents were dentists and they didn't like her having too much candy in case that resulted in her having cavities.

Then they'd descended into silence once more, mostly because Daphne put away the game of chess, curling against the side of the compartment as she fell into a doze; Hope presumed that she must have woken up a little too early too. Hermione, on the other hand, grasped one of the books piled at the top of her trunk to read while Crookshanks manoeuvred from his new master to Hope's lap, no doubt because of Hermione's sudden movement.

Hope gave a small smile as the cat rubbed its face against her hand as she scratched lightly behind its ears.

Time passed slowly and it seemed like an age had passed before they started to come remotely close to the school, and even then Hope couldn't see it. The sun had fallen and the night was young, with the sprinkling of stars across the sky clear to see. Trees stretched up towards the sky and mountains hid a few stray clusters as the train moved past them slowly.

By that point Hope and Hermione had abandoned their books to focus their attention out the window, even as Daphne slept on, only to jump –with Daphne being startled awake– at the sudden voice echoing through the train as though via an intercom but Hope could find no trace of anything similar within the compartment. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time," the voice said. "Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Hope had almost forgotten about her anxiety up to that point, distracted by her book and her friends, but now it was coming back in full force, making her stomach roil, her hands turn clammy and her fair complexion gain a pallor. Thankfully, Daphne and Hermione looked similarly anxious as they drew the curtains shut to pull on their robes. Hope and Hermione only had to pull the black robes over their uniform, but Daphne hadn't bothered wearing them to start with, so she had to change out of her things and into the school robes completely.

When the train had finally stopped, Hermione had just managed to fix Daphne's tie while Hope coaxed Crookshanks back into his basket, and then they all clamoured out of the compartment and into the packed corridor before stepping out into the cool air.

They'd pulled into a train station bearing the sign Hogsmeade, which Hope remembered as the place that Remus had once taken her for lunch in a pub called the Three Broomsticks, that, and she'd had to have Mindy and Remus sign a permission slip to allow her to go on weekend trips into the village.

But they didn't have too long to marvel because a gruff voice called over them: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Hope couldn't help but balk at the sight of the man. He was a giant of a man, standing at –Hope would wager– more than ten feet, with thick bristly dark hair and beard, wearing a large overcoat, his lantern swinging violently as he held it high above their heads, a smile clear on his face. "C'mon, follow me –any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" And then he led them away.

"Wow," Hermione muttered, impressed. "He is tall."

"That's the gamekeeper, Hagrid," Daphne hissed to the other two as they linked arms to keep from stumbling around too much in the dark. "He's been working here since before Mum and Dad attended."

"He doesn't look it," Hope remarked in clear surprise as they made their way down a steep and narrow path that forced the girls to part their arms. They didn't speak after that, the silence and nervousness weighing down on them more than anything else.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," came the tall hairy man –Hagrid, Hope had to remind herself– from close to the front, "jus' round this bend here."

And following that a few loud awe-filled exclamations that Hope could only understand once they'd rounded the corner as well, giving them full view of the castle.

There was an image of it in Hogwarts, A History, but it certainly didn't do the structure justice. It was a medieval castle of perfection, that was the best way to describe it. Several stories tall with spires branching off from the main structure. Hope had seen similar castles –though far less impressive– in history textbooks but they were worn by age and elements, and this castle was in prime condition with tiny pinpricks of light through the castle's windows, barely seen from where they were.

The only thing that separated them from it was a lake that glittered like black glass.

Close to them could be heard a soft mutter of "Bloody hell," and that was something she could agree with entirely, seeing it with her eyes for the first time. The sight was so distracting that the first years had to remember to start walking again, Hope included, towards the boats lined up beside the shoreline of the lake.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called out, jerking them all out of the awed trance that had been induced at the sight of the castle; there was hardly anyone that wasn't awed, from what Hope could see.

Daphne, Hope, and Hermione got in the last boat with the tearful boy that Hermione had helped before, Neville, but that might have had something to do with them lingering so much in leaving the train.

"Everyone in? Right then- FORWARD!"

Hope gripped the edge of the boat tightly, wary of falling into its depths, because she could swear she saw something moving down there. She recoiled quickly when she saw a pair of yellow eyes shimmer in the darkness before disappearing with a flutter of what looked to be green seaweed but Hope would one day learn it was in fact hair.

Hope breathed out slowly, quickly forgetting about the eyes as she looked on to the castle with its lanterns flickering in welcome.

"Heads down!" Hagrid called out as the boats moved forward by an enchantment of some sort, taking them through a curtain of ivy that hid a tunnel from view, a tunnel that appeared to be burrowed right beneath the castle, the boats moving forward steadily until they came to a stop at an underground shoreline, and then the girls pulled themselves out of the boat to make their way up the passageway after Hagrid's swinging lantern.

The passageway curved several times before they found themselves on grass and climbing stone steps to stand in a similarly stone courtyard before a great door.

"Everyone here?" Hagrid asked. "You there, still got yer toad?" He didn't wait for an answer from Neville before knocking sharply on the door, which opened after his first knock to reveal a familiar woman.

Professor McGonagall wasn't someone easy to forget with her tendency to wear emerald robes and sharp eyes. Hope wondered how her father and his friends could have earned so many detentions when she was the one they had to answer to, but that was just her opinion.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said with an air of politeness.

"Thank you, Hagrid," the witch responded, "I will take them from here." And then she directed the silent group to follow after her into the entrance hall and up a series of winding staircases until they were deposited into a small antechamber off of the larger hall.

It was only when they'd all crowded inside that she spoke.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, somehow making those words stern. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," she continued. "Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. "

There was a hint of warning there, Hope was sure of it.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

There was a buzz of whispers as she left and Hope arched an eyebrow as Hermione began to recite all the spells they'd learned over the past year under her breath; the list was quite extensive.

"I'm pretty sure that you're not going to need any of that," Daphne tried to point out, but it didn't appear to help the Muggle-born all that much, so she gave it up.

Hope tugged on a curled strand of her fringe, frowning when she caught a pair of grey eyes flicking towards her.

Draco Malfoy was standing beside two boys who were both rather stout and heavy set with confusion splashed on their faces; Hope wondered if it was a permanent look. Draco was no doubt under the impression that Hope was still going by the name Elpis Slytherin, and it would be rather amusing to see the look on his face when he discovered she was actually Hope Potter.

He had apparently been looking for her on the train and had stopped by the compartment when she was in the lavatory, asking if he'd seen Hope Potter. Daphne hadn't approved of the clear disdain his face held when he'd spoken to Hermione and neither had the girl in question.

"She's not here," Hermione had told him shortly, which was both telling the truth and skirting the truth at the same time, Hope had been so proud.

The next second his gaze had shifted, looking over the crowd of new students, looking for someone who couldn't be found (or someone who was standing right in front of him).

Hope wrinkled her nose.

They weren't waiting long when Professor McGonagall reappeared once more, waving away several ghosts that had floated through walls to greet them, something Hope found faintly disconcerting, though not nearly as much as the two suits of armour bearing the Slytherin seal giving her a slight bow.

"The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin," Professor McGonagall said, "now form a line and follow me."

They left the antechamber to walk through the great magnificent oak doors and into the Great Hall, and Hope was awed by the hall beyond that. There were more candles than she could count dangling high up in the air without suspension, illuminating the four long tables and the Head Table at the front. Hope's eyes were drawn to the man at the centre whose long white beard was as clear as day.

That would be Albus Dumbledore, she knew, the man who had allowed (and allowed wasn't the right word to use, perhaps forced was a better term) her to remain at the Dursleys and the one who had tried to insist upon her returning there and leaving the safety of Potter Manor. Hope would rather drink poison.

She allowed her eyes to drift upwards, away from Dumbledore, trailing upwards to the ghosts and then past them once she saw the ceiling, which could hardly be described as a ceiling, resembling the night sky.

She was so distracted by the sky being inside that she almost ran into the person in front of her, and she was sure that they wouldn't have been very pleased with her. This directed her attention towards a short stool upon which sat perhaps the most raggedy hat in existence.

Hope blinked furiously, barely managing not to gape in incomprehension when she heard the rustic singing, coming from a hat of all things! An incredulous expression appeared briefly on her face at the sight of an old and patched once-pointed hat, singing from a rip in the material.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on!

Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

Then there was a loud applause and Hope's shoulders sagged. Whatever she'd been expecting for the Sorting Ceremony, it certainly wasn't that. Now it felt like a great deal of her anxiety and nervousness had left her.

"When I call your name," Professor McGonagall said, holding a long scroll in her hands that she certainly hadn't had a moment ago, "you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

That sounded easy enough.

Professor McGonagall began to read off names from a roll of parchment, starting with "Abbott, Hannah!", "Bones, Susan!", and "Boot, Terry!" who went into Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw respectively.

Professor McGonagall went through the names quickly, as the hat seemed to launch the House names out incredibly fast, but it was amusing to say the least at how Hermione jolted when her name was called, but she still stepped forward eagerly to perch on the edge of the stool, only for the hat to call out a moment later: "GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione left the stool to cheers from the table to the far left which had broke up into cheering. The Gryffindors were a rather cheerful lot, if you asked Hope.

Daphne breathed in sharply as the next name was called.

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

Then she swallowed thickly and straightened her spine, moving forward carefully to sit lightly on the edge of the stool. Her blue eyes disappearing from view briefly as the hat called out "SLYTHERIN!"

And then she was striding off towards the far right table with a regretful glance towards Hermione who seemed disappointed that so far two out of the three friends were separated by their houses.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

The last name of the boy who had lost his toad before on the train caught Hope's memory. Longbottom…like Alice Longbottom? Hope's godmother who was incapable of caring for her in the wake of her parents' death and her godfather's incarceration?

Neville must've been Alice's son. He was positively white in nervousness when he sat down on the stool and had the Sorting Hat dropped onto his head.

It took much longer than Hope would've thought for the hat to cry out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

But it wasn't long until "Malfoy, Draco!" came along, the heir striding forward with an arrogance that couldn't have been faked and was immediately followed by a yell of "SLYTHERIN!"

It seemed like ages before "Potter, Hope!" was called, and Hope took in a sharp breath, the butterflies in her stomach thickening into a swarm, before wading through the last of the of the to-be-sorted first years, trying to ignore the whispers that had sprung forth at the merest mention of her name.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Hope Potter?"

She hoisted herself up onto the stool and permitted the hat to be dropped onto her head as well, the faces of those watching her disappearing as the brim flopped down over her eyes, but catching the last look of outrage on Draco Malfoy's face and allowing herself a small smirk.

She had expected a sudden cry of one of the Houses to issue from the hat, but it did not happen as immediately as she had anticipated.

"It's been such a long time," the Hat said, "since I've had a Slytherin to sort into their house."

Hope thought briefly of Tom Riddle and nearly flinched. "Er, thanks," she said, making a chuckle echo through her skull.

"Your grandfather would be proud," the Hat said before the seam ripped open to shout: "SLYTHERIN!"

The silence that followed that pronouncement was deafening.

Hope took the hat off, arching an eyebrow at the response; the entirety of Slytherin House appeared a bit struck that Hope Potter had been sorted into their house.

She handed the hat over to Professor McGonagall before making her way towards Daphne, turning just slightly to flash a smirk towards Dumbledore that had the twinkle in his eyes failing.

You lose this round, Hope thought viciously.

Albus Dumbledore couldn't help but think of a very different child who had been sorted into Slytherin so many years ago, a dark-haired boy not unlike Hope, bright and curious and dangerous, a boy who had made all the wrong choices, but could he convince her to make the right ones? Even he didn't know the answer to that.

*Chapter 10*: Slytherin House Difficulties

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Ten: Slytherin House Difficulties

Thanatos had a tendency to put off things for as long as he could possibly avoid them, but that tactic only worked for so long, and Thalia Blackwood was rather well-known for her stubbornness, if nothing else, a trait that had been, no doubt, passed down from him.

"You can't avoid me forever, Thanatos," she said when he appeared to her in the dead of night while she was sharpening her sword. The sword itself was antique, but no one would have been able to tell. It had been a gift to Thanatos' lover, Adeliade Peverell and it had been passed on to his son Antioch and then down the line until it rested with Thalia after the death of her sister, Aglaia.

"Perhaps I am simply a busy man, dearest," Thanatos remarked simply and Thalia lifted her eyes to arch an eyebrow at him.

"You're not even a man," she pointed out before resuming her sharpening of the sword, missing the smile that graced the god's lips as he listened to the razor-sharp response.

"Perhaps not," he said, "but I've learned it's the thought that counts."

Thalia rolled her eyes. "I thought we were going to have a chat about my distant relation, Hope Potter?"

Thanatos pursed his lips, looking so strangely human for a moment.

"Her situation is a bit…difficult," he admitted after a long minute, settling into the armchair close to the unlit fireplace.

"Simplify it then," Thalia said, unperturbed and there was a reason, Thanatos realized, that she was such an exceptional operative for the Greek Aurors. She had the uncanny ability to pull the truth from others lips.

"Her parents—"

"I know what happened to her parents," Thalia said shortly, her eyes like steel, "I'm pretty sure every Wizarding family is aware of that matter."

Thanatos inclined his head slightly. "After they were killed," he said finally, "she was taken to stay with her mother's sister and she was kept safe there and I was content for a time."

"But?" Thalia prompted.

"But perhaps I was content because I believed she was safe and with family…Lord Hades kept me busy, I didn't consider to slow down and look closely until she was almost ten…I saw her out walking with a bag full of books but something was off."

"How so?" Thalia asked, sheathing her sword in order to focus on what he was saying.

"She was too small and too pale, which, given who her mother is related to and looked herself, was startling…she was very far off from being healthy," Thanatos finally said, heaving a heavy sigh. "I couldn't consider letting her remain in that environment so I revealed myself to her."

"And how'd that go?" Thalia snorted, crossing one leg over the other.

"Better than I'd been anticipating," Thanatos admitted, "she is a clever child, perhaps every bit as stubborn and brazen as you are, dearest."

Thalia gave him a small smile. "You like her."

"I like all of my descendants," Thanatos said, nonplussed and Thalia laughed at the frown on his lips.

"Can we meet her?" she asked once the god had a moment to wonder why he'd had children and thus descendants in the first place.

"Well, the last relative she was aware of happened to be the man who killed her parents," he said dryly, "perhaps it would be best to break it to her slowly."

Though, he could scarcely imagine Hope not liking Thalia Blackwood; she had a certain aura, after all.

Hope was helping herself to some steak and kidney pie when she finally decided to acknowledge the boy in front of her.

"Can I help you, Heir Malfoy?" she asked with an air of curiosity while Daphne hid her snort into her pumpkin juice beside her.

There was an obvious space between the girls and the other members of Slytherin House, owing, no doubt, to the fact, that many of their parents were Death Eaters, whether recanted of not. Of the incoming students, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode appeared to be the ones who had stayed away the most. A girl named Tracey Davis didn't appear to be too particular, but Draco was glowering at Hope as he moved to sit across from her.

"You're a liar," he snapped. "Heir Slytherin."

He spat her name with such contempt that Hope had to blink and arch an eyebrow for good measure. "It's hard to lie about the truth, wouldn't you agree, Heir Greengrass?"

"Well, it might have something to do with how Heir Malfoy believes he is entitled to knowing that you had more than one heiress name, Heir Potter," Daphne replied easily, her lips twitching as her eyes glittered with restrained humour.

"My name is Hope Potter," Hope told him, unperturbed by his response, "my ancestral name is Elpis Slytherin, so I wasn't lying…and if you're quite finished, we'd like to eat in peace and quiet."

He stood in a manner similar to an outraged child, making his way back towards Crabbe and Goyle with a stormy look on his face.

"It's times like these where I miss Hermione," Daphne sighed, looking across the room to where Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table, picking at her food more than eating, appearing to Daphne and Hope rather like she was uncomfortable sitting and eating around people she didn't know. Mostly she appeared to be engaging in a conversation with a red-haired lad with horn-rimmed glasses who looked like he might be a prefect of sorts.

"Maybe she can sit with us tomorrow?" Hope suggested with a shrug, though she looked just as much put out as Daphne was. It would have been nice if they were all in the same house, but they'd be in the same classes for the most part, so that was the upside.

"I get the feeling that Slytherin House isn't going to be a fan of a Gryffindor Muggle-born sitting at their table," Daphne pointed out.

"Well, it's a good thing we know some spells to set them right," Hope said without even blinking.

"Ah, Potter, I knew there was a reason I liked you."

They both laughed.

There were three attempts to trip Hope on the way down the stairs that moved, which was, by far, more fascinating than the attempts to trip.

Hogwarts was very large she had come to realize, obviously she'd seen how big it was from the outside, but the inside seemed so much larger than the outside and Hope wanted nothing more than to map every inch of it out (because there was no way she was going to be able to find her classes tomorrow, with how many classrooms they passed by).

Pansy Parkinson, pug-faced with a vicious smirk that never seemed to leave her face, tried at tripping her again, but Hope evaded it easily, keeping an arm wrapped around Daphne's, turning her best glower on the girl. "Is there a problem, Heir Parkinson?" she asked, her tone positively frosty.

Playing the part of heiress to two ancient family lines was more difficult than Hope remembered it being at that Winter Gala that she'd attended last year. Pure-blood society was very stiff and formal and often involved speaking in a similar manner. It was one of the things she hated the most about the vast array of subjects that Mindy had to teach her in order for her to be considered a true heiress.

"You're not wanted here," Pansy sneered which did nothing to flatter her face.

"Yes, that's been made rather clear," Hope said, looking remarkably unperturbed by the fact. If Pansy was hoping to throw her off balance, she wasn't succeeding. "Only I don't particularly care what you think."

Hope had learned a long time ago that words were sometimes a better weapon than fits, besides, Hope didn't really know how to fight with her fists.

She turned away from the fuming girl as they descended deep into the dungeons. The dungeons were dark with flames flickering in the braziers, casting shadows over the new students as they followed after the prefects diligently so as not to be left behind in the darkness; Hope and Daphne ended up at the back, but neither appeared to care too much about that fact, they'd never been the type to be afraid of the dark.

They came to a stop before a blank stretch of wall to which the male Slytherin prefect said: "Hand of Glory."

And a moment later the wall slid open and they all tumbled inside, taking in the common room with avid interest.

There were round green lanterns swaying eerily from the ceiling, casting a green glow down on them, with a round table close to the opposite wall and a desk close to the intricate fireplace where two long dark leather couches were resting. There were large pillars with carved serpents and shelves full of books.

It didn't really have a homey feel, but Hope didn't mind, it was nice to look at and Hope eyed the heavy tomes on the shelves with interest. Given her interests, it wasn't all that surprising that she actually liked the common room.

"This is the Slytherin common room," the second prefect said, her tone making it clear that she would rather be anywhere than where she currently was, not really a good trait for a prefect to have. "This is where you might find the space to do your homework or hang out with your friends outside of class. The password to allow entrance into the common room changes every month. Memorize it or else you won't be allowed inside unless someone else comes along to give the password themselves."

Her companion directed their attention to the two spiral staircases beyond two doorframes. "Going up the staircases leads to the dormitories, down leads to the bathrooms. Don't worry, the showers aren't shared like what the Gryffindors have got."

For some reason that caused a break out of sniggering and Hope arched an eyebrow towards Daphne who gave a shrug in response.

"There are spells in place to keep the boys from going up the girls' staircase, in case you were wondering," he continued blandly. "All of your trunks have been brought up from the train and you will find them next to a bed, that bed is yours for the rest of the years and there will be no complaints or changing of beds."

"First years will bunk in the dormitory off of the first door on the first landing," the girl interjected sharply. "There are only two landings, the first with three dormitories and the second with four. You will move from one room to the next when you return for class each year…everyone except Potter and Greengrass will bunk in the first room of their respective dormitories."

"Why not them?" Millicent grunted in disdain and the girl's lip curled.

"Seeing as they're third year students, they will be rooming with their year-mates," she said. "We're done, you can leave now."

She made an ushering movement, directing them towards the staircases with careless hands and Hope looked to Daphne.

"I wasn't sure it was possible," she said as the group split between the two staircases, "but I think they hate me more now."

"They're just jealous," Daphne assured her. "You get a lot of attention as the Girl-Who-Lived and now you're two years ahead of where you should be; I'd be jealous too."

"Just as long as you're suffering with me," Hope muttered decisively and Daphne snorted as they climbed the stairs a short way before taking the door labelled with the number three Roman numeral.

"If that's the only consolation," Daphne said as she turned the knob to open the door.

The room already held the other third years and all three of them looked up when the door opened to scrutinize the two framed in the doorway.

It was clear that the three had grown rather accustomed to being the only female Slytherin third years and didn't quite like having to share their bedroom space with two eleven year olds who decided to skip two years in one go.

"Oh, yeah," Hope muttered, "this is going to be fun."

Hermione felt awkward standing in the third year dormitory of the Gryffindor Tower, swallowing thickly as she stepped inside with a cautious "Hello?"

Luckily for her, the girls within were rather kind with easy grins that turned towards her.

"Hi!" The first one, a dark-skinned girl with a head of thick dreadlocks, said, grinning brightly at her. "You're Hermione, right? The girl that skipped two years, right?"

"Er, one of them," Hermione admitted, making the brown-haired girl closest to her start in surprise.

"There's more than one of you that did that?" she asked, clearly startled by the knowledge.

"There're three of us," Hermione said, manoeuvring through the beds to reach that one that held her trunk in front of it. "Hope Potter and Daphne Greengrass are the other two."

The second girl arched an eyebrow, drawing her hair up into a high ponytail. "That's got to be weird."

"What d'you mean?" Hermione asked befuddled.

"Well, they're in Slytherin, right?" she prompted. "Slytherin's not all that accepting, especially of change, and then she's the Girl-Who-Lived…surprising she ended up there, though."

"Why's that?" Hermione was bristling slightly.

"Her parents were both Gryffindors," the first girl informed her, "everyone thought she'd end up here too."

Hermione remembered Hope frowning one day, mentioning how the professor that had come to the manor had mentioned how much she looked like her parents and how that unsettled her.

"She doesn't like it when people do that," Hermione told them, "assuming things about her based on who her parents are."

"She's your friend?" The second one asked.

"First friend," Hermione said, "and so is Daphne."

She wasn't sure what they were expecting but they didn't question it.

"I'm Angelina Johnson," the girl with dreadlocks said before gesturing towards the girl at her side, "and this is Alicia Spinnet, we're two of the Chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team."

Not a single word besides their names made any sense to Hermione. "Erm," she said, glancing from one to the other and then to the other girls getting ready for bed, ignoring them for the most part, "I…I don't really know what that means."

Both girls paused to stare at her and Hermione could feel the blood rushing to her face.

"You don't know what Quidditch is?" Alicia repeated dubiously.

"Good thing she didn't mention that in front of the twins," Angelina snorted, "I mean, that would be hilarious to watch."

"Fred and George would probably sit you down and explain it all to you in great detail," Alicia explained at the continued expression of confusion. "They're the beaters, identical twins."

"Oh!" Hermione's eyebrows rose. "I think Hope ran into one of them in Diagon Alley."

"That's likely," Angelina snorted. "They're both terrible pranksters too, so that doesn't really help."

Then she gave Hermione a serious look. "Never trust anything they offer you to eat."

Hermione's eyes turned into wide saucers.

"You're going to scare her off," Alicia laughed, "don't worry, Hermione, I mean, the chances are you might end up with a few days of blue hair."

"Hope did that once," Hermione admitted, "it didn't look too bad."

Both girls snorted.

Hope slept fitfully and awoke early the next morning by the sound of yelps of pain and she opened the drapes around her bed to see one of the girls, a dark-haired girl named Isla Vaisley clutching at her hands as boils sprung up on them, awakening the other girls.

Isla was howling and a moment later the female prefect, Gemma Farley, had appeared looking harried with a scowl on her face.

"What's going on?" she demanded as Daphne threw her drapes back to look to Hope who was glaring at Isla for good measure.

"Potter attacked me!" Isla seethed, clutching her pustule-ridden hands to her chest, just enough to keep the boils away from the free air but still not touching her in an effort to keep from aggravating them too much.

Gemma looked to Hope for an explanation and Hope leapt to her feet angrily, her long loose plait falling over her shoulder as her eyes flashed red for a brief moment. "I was asleep until you screamed like a dying Mandrake and woke us all up!"

"You cursed me!"

"I cursed the drapes, you Flobberworm-for-a-brain!" Hope snapped back, watching how Isla's cheeks coloured ruddy at her insults.

"Enough!" Gemma stepped between them before the situation could get anymore out of hand. "I'm taking you both to Professor Snape and you can sort out this little spat with him."

Daphne shot a look towards Hope, but she was too incensed to much more than find her slippers and dressing gown to go over her pyjamas, marching after Gemma and Isla down the stairs and then out of the common room, taking them down the lengthy hallway of the dungeons before rapping sharply on a dark door with her knuckles, calling: "Professor Snape, its Prefect Farley, I have a situation that I think needs your attention."

It was a few moments later before the door was wrenched open and Hope found herself staring at the Slytherin Head of House, Professor Severus Snape.

He was tall with eyes that Hope would have considered impossibly black if she hadn't seen how dark Thanatos' eyes were and with a curtain of thick greasy hair around his face. His dressing gown and night wear were so black that he appeared to be drowning in the shadows.

"Prefect Farley," he said in an oily voice, "what is it?"

"There was a fight in the third year dormitory," Gemma informed him, gesturing between the two who were still glaring sourly at one another. "They don't quite agree on how Vaisley ended up with boils. Vaisley says Potter attacked her and Potter says she charmed the drapes around her bed."

Professor Snape looked over the pair of them with interest and Hope couldn't but feel as though she was being analyzed.

"Vaisley, first," he said, stepping aside to allow the slightly older girl into the room to ask her what happened and then the door closed a moment later.

"Don't worry," Gemma said to Hope who was eyeing the door with speculation, "Professor Snape generally knows who's lying and who's telling the truth around here."

"That's so comforting," Hope said dryly and Gemma made an amused noise in the back of her throat.

"The curse on the drapes was actually a good idea," she admitted after a moment of silence, "given who you are."

Hope's lips thinned into a line.

"I hope you've got some thick skin, Potter, because you're going to need it," Gemma said before turning on her heel and making her way back to the common room, leaving Hope in silence and in darkness.

The sound of the voices within the office were dulled by the door, and Hope shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her attention catching on something down the hall.

She found herself staring at the figure cloaked for the most part in darkness, but she could have sworn she saw a pair of pale green eyes before they disappeared, leaving Hope a bit confused, her brow furrowing.

A moment or two later the door opened once more and Isla stepped out looking pleased and Hope imagined that the third year had heaped complaint on top of complaint about Hope to their Head of House. The smirk that was thrown her way told her just that.

"Potter," Professor Snape said shortly and Hope entered the room with her back straight and her eyes ahead, moving into the room and looking around with interest.

He was the potions-master, Hope remembered Remus telling her, and it showed in everything within the room. There were shelves full of potion ingredients around the large desk, before which was set a worn chair into which Hope was certain she would be sitting.

And, sure enough, a moment later he said: "Take a seat, Potter."

So Hope complied with his command, her eyes following his as he moved around the desk, thinking about what Remus had said about him and her mother.

"Lily was friends with a boy in Slytherin named Severus Snape and he and James never saw eye to eye. James was a Pure-blood who hated the idea of blood purity and Severus was the type to hang out with Blood Purists, shall we say? It was the thing that eventually broke Lily and Severus' friendship."

"Vaisley is under the impression that you are going out of your way to attack her," Professor Snape began, his silky words shattering the silence. "Is that true?"

Hope's teeth gritted behind her lips before she pried them apart in order to speak. "No," she said vehemently, only managing to just keep her cool. "No one in Slytherin House except Daphne likes me so I took precautions."

"Precautions?" Professor Snape repeated dubiously, almost carelessly and Hope scowled fiercely.

"That's right," she said coldly. "I put a boil curse on the drapes before I went to bed. My friend did the same. We at least know the difference between being clever and cowardly."

Professor Snape hadn't honestly known what to expect when he'd seen Lily's daughter among those waiting to be sorted. It was surprising enough that she'd been one of the three that had skipped two years in one go, but then he'd seen her and there was so much of Lily in her, even overshadowed by Potter. And then, to his complete surprise, instead of ending up in her parents' house, she had been placed in Slytherin.

A glimpse into her mind told him much the same as looking into Isla Vaisley's; Hope had indeed cast the spell on her drapes and Isla had attempted to forcefully part them with a curse ready at the end of her wand.

"Given that class hasn't yet begun, I will be lenient this one time," he said finally, "I should hope this does not become a normal occurrence, Potter."

Hope narrowed her eyes, frowning, but she couldn't tell if that meant he believed her or if he believed Isla, but either way she was surprised that she hadn't automatically gotten blamed, that did tend to happen more often than not.

"Yes, sir," she said stiffly before standing and making her way out of the office, shutting the door swiftly behind her only to find herself completely and utterly lost.

Hope expelled an exasperated sigh. She didn't think they'd taken all that many turns on the way to Professor Snape's office but now she wasn't so sure.

She took a few cautious steps back in the direction she had come before she was interrupted.

"May I be of assistance, Milady?"

Hope gave a loud yelp in surprise, recoiling at the apparently sudden appearance of a talking suit of armour. She'd seen several suits of armour since she'd arrived at Hogwarts, but as far as she had been aware, they didn't speak.

It was at that moment that she finally realized that the suit of armour had asked her something.

"I–er–well–it's—" Her words tripped from her mouth and found herself briefly unable to formulate a coherent sentence, but then she got her tongue working again.

"I'm a bit lost," she admitted, "you wouldn't happen to know where the Slytherin common room is, would you?"

The suit of armour gave a small chuckle. "Of course, Milady," he said and Hope found herself flushing at the use of such a reverent title. He extended an arm to Hope and Hope took the crook of his elbow, allowing him to lead her forward.

"I didn't think that the suits of armour could talk here," she spoke after a short stint of silence.

"Oh, you can't," the suit of armour agreed, "but I'm a bit different."

"How so?" Hope asked with honest curiosity.

"I am merely an imprint of the soul of the man who once wore me," he informed her.

"A soul imprint?" Hope's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "What was your name back when you were alive?"

"I was Sir Michael Richmond," he said, "Salazar Slytherin's most trusted ally."

Hope paused, forcing the suit of armour to pause as well in order to keep from dragging Hope forward.

"Wait," she said, staring at the helmet like she'd never seen anything quite like it in all her life, "you're Michael Richmond? The Muggle werewolf that served under Salazar Slytherin for decades?"

"Familiar with your own history, Heir Slytherin?" he sounded vaguely amused. "And yes, that was I. It was a difficult life but Lord Salazar gave me kindness when others turned me away."

"I have a caretaker like you," Hope told him, giving the suit of armour a smile. "He's been a werewolf since he was very young and he's been turned away from so many jobs because of what he is."

"The views of the British Wizardry are very…how shall I put it? Archaic, yes?" The visor of his helmet creaked. "Old-fashioned?"

"I've gotten that feeling, yes," Hope agreed, her words with just a touch of amusement. "And they consider Earth Magick and Blood Magick to be dark."

"Ah," the suit of armour said, coming off a bit pleased, "you take after Lady Morea, I see. She had a fondness for that magic that was unrivalled."

"I'm learning it from her book," Hope agreed with a smile. "It's quite fascinating."

"And I'm sure it will remain so," he said as they came to a stop in front of the blank stretch of wall that led into the Slytherin common room. "And this is where I leave you."

"Thank you," Hope said, turning towards the wall before turning back to look at the suit of armour a bit sheepishly. "I don't suppose I could ask you to guide my friends and I to our classes tomorrow? We don't really know where we're going…"

A rusty chuckle almost dislodged the helmet and Hope was certain it was far too early in the morning for her to see that. "It would be an honour, Milady," he assured her before clanking away.

Hope watched him disappear into darkness before turning to face the wall once more and said clearly "Hand of Glory" to allow the wall to melt away.

The common room was empty, but that was to be expected. A glance towards the large clock mounted on the wall told her it was only three-quarters past five o'clock in the morning, so it wasn't really all that early. And there really wasn't much of a point to her trying to get some sleep if she was going to wake back up in an hour or so.

Hope trudged up the steps to quietly open the door to the third-year room, peeking her head inside to see if anyone was awake. Even Isla, who had been so alert when shouting insults was fast asleep, the boils Hope had given her gone and a potion bottle empty by her side.

Hope had a sneer at her even though she couldn't see her before making her way slowly to the trunk by her bed, clicking it open to grab her uniform and shut it swiftly and silently, tip-toeing past Daphne's slumbering form to make her way out of the room and down the spiralling staircase, past the doorway that led out into the common room, taking herself deeper to the door that opened into the bathroom.

Then Hope had to pause and take it all in. The floor was marble tile with a few slender pillars made of a similar material as they climbed from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. The sinks curled around mirrors in a hexagon shape with larger mirrors set up facing a few chairs, clearly for any Slytherin ladies that had the want or need to apply make-up before class, with individual showers hidden behind emerald curtains.

Luckily for Hope they were all vacant, the whole room, in fact, was vacant, so Hope had the pick of the lot.

Hope picked the first stall, setting down her things on the stool before sweeping the curtain over, hiding her from view as she unfurled the plait that had secured her hair in the night and disrobed, stepping into the steady stream of warm water.

Hogwarts wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting but she had been anticipating such an overtly negative response from her peers, but she supposed that was to be expected, after all, many of them had Death Eater bloodlines.

She gritted her teeth together, thinking of the Death Eater Trials she had once read over, many of those Death Eaters weren't even serving any time in prison, and here their children were acting like Hope was there personal enemy.

"I hope you've got some thick skin, Potter, because you're going to need it."

Hope wished she didn't have to. She wished that the world didn't have to see her as something she wasn't only to be surprised when she didn't conform to their ideal. She wished she could publicly convey her interest in Earth Magick without being considered dark because of its mislabel. She wished people didn't look at her the way they did, like she was something great for nothing more than a coincidence. She wished things were so much simpler.

But Hope had never been very lucky in life, so it wasn't all that surprising that those wishes wouldn't come true.

Hope was sitting on the couch close to the fire with a slender book open on her lap when Daphne descended the stairs to join her, fixing her silver and green tie as she gave her friend a grin.

"Hey! Been up long?" she asked and Hope shut the book she was reading, allowing Daphne a glimpse of the Slytherin family seal stamped into the leather, making it the journal of her grandfather, Salazar Slytherin.

"I didn't really go asleep after Isla woke me up," Hope admitted, shoving the book into her bag. It was their first day of classes, but they only had four to go to, Hermione, being the stubborn girl that she was, signing up for all of the elective classes that were available, had six. "I wasn't really tired and there didn't seem to be much of a point, you know? I figured I might as well snag a shower while they were all free."

And if Hope was tired, she didn't look it with her eyes green and impossibly bright and her dark hair swept up into an intricate bun that was partially made up of plaits big and small.

"Did you want to head up?" Daphne asked her, glancing towards the clock. "I know it's a little early, but there should still be some food."

"Yes!" Hope pulled herself upright with a moan. "I'm starving! I should have eaten more for dinner last night but I wasn't really feeling it."

Daphne could imagine. She hadn't been all that hungry yesterday either. The overwhelming dislike her friend had faced from their new house was rather palpable. Daphne was lucky, she was from a neutral family, but Hope was from a Light family, and that didn't go over well. Not all of the members of the house were from neutral to dark families, but a good portion were, enough to make the others follow their lead.

They left the common room to whispers that echoed, sounding like a snake's hisses.

"How'd it go with Professor Snape?" Daphne asked her once they'd rounded the bend that led up to the long staircase they had to take to reach the Great Hall. "Are you in trouble?"

"Not today," Hope said with a frown on her lips. "I mean, I could have argued self-defence but he just said to try and make sure it doesn't happen again."

Daphne couldn't contain a snort. "Well," she said, "that's likely."

Hope gave a helpless shrug.

"I heard he's got a lot of favouritism towards his house, so maybe he just didn't want to take any points from his students," Daphne remarked sagely with narrowed eyes.

"He knew my mother," Hope confided, "their friendship ended badly, according to Remus."

Daphne hummed thoughtfully.

"Oh," Hope said suddenly as they paused on the staircase as it began to move underneath them, "I forgot to mention I got lost on the way back and this suit of armour helped me."

Daphne arched an eyebrow as if to say 'And this is important why?'

"The suit of armour is an imprint of Sir Michael Richmond," Hope informed her smugly, "who just so happens to have served Salazar Slytherin while he was alive."

"Could he talk?" Daphne asked with eyes wide.

Hope sniggered, bobbing her head. "He was very chatty and he said he'd be happy to escort us to our classes today since we don't know where we're going."

"Well," Daphne said dryly, "wasn't that nice of him."

They came to a stop outside the Great Hall's massive doors, though they were thrown open to allow others inside, looking around cautiously, but there was hardly anyone inside. The jittery professor in a turban was muttering to himself as he pushed food around on his plate, there were two Ravenclaws pouring over books rather than eating the food in front of them, a Hufflepuff was devouring some toast, and a Gryffindor who had apparently gotten up early for nothing, was fast asleep with their face pressed against the table top.

"Tough crowd," Hope said before they made their way to the Slytherin table. "How do you think Hermione's doing?"

"Probably better than us," Daphne yawned, "Gryffindor house doesn't have a reason to hate her guts."

"Thanks, Daphne, you're making me feel so much better," Hope uttered in a deadpan tone that made her friend laugh, and given the silence within the room, the noise echoed, making both Ravenclaws look up from their books with annoyed scowls.

"It's what I'm here for," Daphne said with a blinding smile that was absolutely no comfort at all.

They sat down and helped themselves to some eggs and sausage and were halfway through eating when Hermione showed up, her whole face brightening as she moved to join them, her curls wild around her face.

"Oh, good," she said, "you're up."

And then she held out a hair tie to Daphne who put on her best resigned look before patting the seat beside her for Hermione to sit down on, and Hermione plopped herself down, allowing Daphne to gather up her hair into a French braid.

"You know, her birthday is coming up," Hope reminded Daphne like Hermione wasn't even there. "Maybe we should get her a hairbrush that combs into a French braid, because I think she's getting a bit of an obsession with them."

Hermione gave Hope a look that was a cross between amused and exasperated, making Hope smirk for good measure.

"That's a good idea," Daphne said, taking the lead from Hope with a snort, "I mean, I've lost count how many times she's asked me to plait her hair…"

"You're both so funny," Hermione drawled. "See if I get you anything for Christmas this year."

Hope rolled her eyes briefly, swallowing a bit of egg. "So, what's it like in Gryffindor?"

"It's all right," Hermione conceded as Daphne tied the braid off, allowing her to swing her body around to face the table completely, grasping a plate and piling it with food. "Everyone's really friendly, especially the third years, they were really welcoming."

"Lucky you," Hope said, taking a thick gulp of pumpkin juice. "We got the short end of the stick."

"Hope gave a girl some boils this morning," Daphne told Hermione and the brunette choked on her bite of sausage, her eyes going wide.

"You did what?" she demanded, struggling to keep her voice quiet.

"Okay, I didn't curse her with boils," Hope muttered with annoyance, "I spelled the damn drapery and she obviously wanted to curse me so that's a win in my book."

Hermione looked to Daphne for some sort of explanation that might make some kind of sense.

"Slytherin house doesn't like Hope because she's the Girl-Who-Lived and some of the family members of current students were put away after she 'defeated' the Dark Lord," Daphne explained.

Hermione grimaced.

"It's like a minefield," Hope groaned, "and it's also ironic, you know, given my bloodline. I'm pretty sure that if anyone's got a right to be in Slytherin house, it's me."

"Are you going to tell them that?" Daphne asked, arching an eyebrow as Hermione burst into giggles at the sour expression that spread across Hope's face.

"Why bother fuelling the fire?" she muttered. "They're already under the impression that I've been lying about my family name, at least, the ones that went to that Winter Gala do…I've decided I don't care."

"Personally, I'm putting five galleons on her cursing someone in half an hour," Daphne informed Hermione blandly. "Want to take it me up on that?"

"No thanks, I don't have a lot of pocket change."

"Touché," Daphne conceded and Hope rolled her eyes.

"Okay, when are we getting our schedules?" Hope demanded, "all I've got is the list of classes for today and that's not very helpful."

"I think our Head of House is supposed to give them to us," Hermione mused thoughtfully before chewing on some bacon.

"Is your Head of House even going to be able to find you over here?" Daphne sniggered as a few more people filtered in through the doors.

"Oh, yeah," Hermione realized, "that might be a problem."

Hope's lips curled in amusement as she took another sip of her pumpkin juice. "Yeah, and you've got, what, six classes today?"

Hermione shot her a glare.

"This is the girl that passed her Muggle classes while taking Wizarding ones for a whole year," Daphne pointed out, leaning over the table towards Hope in a conspirator-like manner, her eyes glittering.

"I still average better than both of you," Hermione sniffed, her nose in the air, but they both knew her far too well to take her seriously.

"Yeah, but who's counting?" Hope asked and they all shared a laugh.

"So, something interesting happened today," Angelina said the moment Fred and George took their seats opposite her and Lee Jordan, and beside Alicia, stirring honey into her porridge with a smile that usually boded ill.

"More interesting than waking up early?" Fred asked, rubbing at his eyes to stay awake while George dragged the entire plate of sausages toward himself before Alicia took it from him with vague amusement.

"Okay, so, you know how we've got three students this year that skipped two years, right?" Angelina said, ignoring the question.

"Completely mental, if you ask me," George groaned into his pumpkin juice.

"Well, one of them is with us, Hermione Granger, but you want to know who the other two are?"

Fred arched an eyebrow. Angelina wasn't usually one for gossip so it must have been quite something. "No idea."

"Daphne Greengrass and Hope Potter," she said with a grin, "and they're both in Slytherin and are best friends with Hermione."

"You're kidding," the twins said as one, turning around to look to the mostly vacant Slytherin table where, sure enough, a brown-haired girl in bearing Gryffindor's red and gold was sitting beside a blonde-haired girl and across from a dark-haired one.

It would be hard not to recognize Hope Potter, especially after George had nearly knocked into her in Diagon Alley and Fred had had a short conversation with her on the train. She wasn't quite what either boy had been expecting, all refined and steely eyed.

"That's not going to go over well," George found himself saying as other Slytherins started making their way into the hall and one boy actually froze when he saw the Gryffindor girl sitting with her friends.

It was true that friends tended to move to sit with one another, whether or not they were from different houses, and it was something seen across Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor tables, but Slytherin had always liked to think of themselves as elite and exclusive –the fact that a good portion of the students were from old families only helped further that belief– so they hardly associated with the other houses.

It was startling enough that a Gryffindor was willingly sitting at the Slytherin table, but it was still doubtful that it wasn't going to get a negative response.

Sure enough, a second later Hope's head had whipped towards the Slytherin boy that had finally moved past them, allowing them to see it was Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"Do you want something?" Hope asked him coldly, her voice echoing as he sat down away from the grouping of three eleven year old witches with a look of clear disgust on his face. "Maybe a tongue correction, or perhaps one on your entire head?"

"I'd be happy to assist," Daphne said, equally as frosty, withdrawing her wand and fingering it with barely restrained glee. "Better yet, cut out his tongue, he doesn't look like he needs it."

Hermione's eyes were side and George arched an eyebrow. "They're also, apparently, violent."

"I would be too," Alicia said coolly, "if someone called me what he just called Hermione."

It was too far to hear, but it was easy to ascertain a response to the word 'Mudblood'.

Then Hermione stood. "I'm going to go wait at the Gryffindor table," she told her friends, "meet you outside once I've got my schedule."

Both Slytherins gave affirmative nods and Hermione moved away from them with a frown on her lips.

"Hey, you okay?" Alicia asked her as she sat down, not too close but not too far from them.

"I'm fine," she said with a small smile, "Hope's probably got it worse than me, anyways."

George looked over to the Girl-Who-Lived who now had a perpetual glare as more and more of her house-mates entered the hall.

"Blimey," Fred said, "she doesn't look pleased."

"She wouldn't be," Hermione muttered, fiddling with the end of her plait, but she didn't bother to elaborate on the subject, but it was news that would spread with wildfire and by the time lunch came around everyone would know how Hope Potter had cursed another student before classes had even started.

"Ancient Runes doesn't start until nine-thirty, so we've still got some time," Hope muttered as the three sat on a stone bench outside of the Great Hall. There was an apple stuck in her robe pocket, but Hope wasn't very hungry after Flint –the absolute arse– had uttered that slur towards Hermione.

"Looks like you're going to be doing a lot of running around," Daphne noticed, looking over Hermione's shoulder to the schedule in her hands, reading off the classes. "Care of Magical Creatures at eight-thirty, both Divination and Study of Ancient Runes at nine-thirty, Transfiguration at eleven-forty-five, then after lunch Potions at one-forty-five and Defense Against the Dark Arts at three…seriously, Hermione, what on earth made you want to do all the electives, you aren't going to be able to sleep at all this year at this rate."

"Ha-ha, very funny," Hermione said, snatching her schedule close to her chest so that Daphne couldn't read off any more details from her schedule for the next few days. "I like to learn, is that a crime?"

"Running yourself into the ground might be," Hope mentioned, checking her watch. "Don't you only have like fifteen minutes before class starts?"

Hermione sighed. "And now I have to find someone to tell me where Care of Magical Creatures is located…"

"It's lucky I'm here, then," Hope said, gesturing towards herself with a flourish.

Hermione crossed her arms, making the bag over her shoulder swing precariously. "You don't know where the class is being held," she remarked dubiously, half sounding like she was telling herself that rather than stating a fact.

"I don't," Hope agreed with a grin. "But I made a friend that knows where everything is."

"He's a suit of armour," Daphne offered to the confused look on Hermione's face.

"Okay…" she said slowly, clearly still confused but trying to wrap her head around that idea.

"His name is Sir Michael Richmond," Hope said, knocking her shoulder against Daphne's for good measure, "and he used to serve my ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, so he has a loyalty to members of the Slytherin family. And he escorted me back to the common room after I left Professor Snape's office when I got a little lost."

"Just a little?" Hermione was grinning now.

"Oh, shut up," Hope said, kicking her feet out and missing Hermione's ankles when she moved them out of the line of fire. "The point is, he can show us where all of our classes so we don't have to ask any other students."

Which basically meant Hope was just trying to avoid communicating with anyone else in her house, and Daphne couldn't really fault her there.

"Maybe we should make a map," Daphne considered a moment later.

"I could use a map," Hope and Hermione said as one before laughing.

Hermione was out of breath when she found Hope and Daphne outside of the Ancient Runes classroom, shoving her Time-turner inside her robes and out of view.

"I'm not late, am I?" she asked them as she came to a stop in front of them, making her heavy bag swing forward so that it almost smacked Daphne in the chest, forcing the blonde-haired witch to step back to avoid the attack, and then Hermione was overcome with giggles. "What happened to your hair?" she gasped.

"You mean you didn't notice any Slytherins with this amazing hairstyle?" Hope said dryly, gesturing towards her braided bun which was emerald green spun with silver.

Daphne was similarly annoyed, tugging on a stray silver curl. "I don't know if you're aware of this, Hermione, but green is more of Hope's colour, and that's why she's managed to pull it off so well."

"But you can change your hair colour at will," Hermione mentioned to Hope once she'd recovered a bit. "You could change yours back."

Hope crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. "And leave Daphne to suffer on her own? But wait 'til I find out who's behind this."

"It's probably the Weasley twins," Hermione said, thinking back to what Angelina had said the previous night. "Angelina said they're a bit of pranksters."

"Is that so?" Hope's eyes narrowed in speculation.

Daphne coughed. "You're not late, no, I think we're the first ones here—"

"I mean, what would be a good way to top a minor –emphasis on minor– colour-change spell? A voice change one?"

Daphne and Hermione looked over to Hope, amusement clear on their faces as Hope theorized out loud, but then they decided it would probably be best to enter the room and thus distract her from her prospective counter-attack.

The classroom was a bit awing, that much the three girls could agree on. There was Egyptian hieroglyphics, Scandinavian Norse, and Ancient Greek as well as a number of other symbols that Hope couldn't even come close to understanding strewn throughout the room. There were old books in the book shelves, half in languages that Hope couldn't even begin to understand, and there was an image of a glittering cartouche behind the professor's vacant desk.

"This…" Hope said in amazement, "is so cool!"

"I guess it's worth it that you managed to skip two years in one go, right?" Daphne asked, elbowing her in the side, but Hope was far too distracted by all the runes to even respond to the jab.

Hermione was slightly exasperated as she steered Hope forward to one of the desks close to the front, taking the seat next to her, leaving Daphne to take the one on her other side.

There weren't that many students that had signed up to be in Study of Ancient Runes, which explained why they had lumped all four houses together, because –according to some complaints Hope had heard in the hallway– usually only two houses had class together.

Marigold Burke took a seat close to the back, her curls green and silver which didn't look all that endearing on her, if Hope had to be perfectly honest, shooting a look of disdain towards Hope, but it was ignored.

It took a few more minutes for the last of the students to filter inside with the hum of conversation surrounding them briefly before they were interrupted by the click of heels against stone.

"Find your seats!" a female voice called out into the room and there was a scramble for a good seat.

The woman who taught Ancient Runes was not a stern-faced woman, like Professor McGonagall was. Her hair was a light brown set in wild curls around her face and her cheeks dimpled as she smiled. To her credit, she didn't mention the three heads of green and silver hair.

"Hello and welcome to the Study of Ancient Runes!" she called out with a bright grin. "My name is Bathsheda Babbling, we will begin with roll call!"

As soon as she had checked everyone's name down, she smiled warmly once more, sitting on her desk in a fashion that made it clear she was a very relaxed teacher. "This is a class that delves into the mysteries of the past and unearths the languages that have been long forgotten," she told them, "the main focus of your first years in this subject will be translation and eventually we will touch on warding and barrier-erection that you might find in your future occupations. We will begin this semester with Egyptian hieroglyphics. Today you will be given a specific hieroglyph that I want you to research and find its meaning, an ancient text in which it is used, and what it represented to the Ancient Egyptians.

"Now if everyone would open to chapter one in their books we will begin with the first recorded history of the hieroglyphs…"

So the girls pulled out their parchment and quill to begin taking notes, only putting their quills down when class ended an hour later.

"All right, it's your first day, but that doesn't mean that you can start slacking," Professor Babbling warned. "I want a short essay on a sub-category of Ancient Runes –entirely of your choosing– and I want you to tell me how it can be considered an Ancient Rune study, how it is applied, give me examples of the study's use of runes, and a brief history and explanation of that study!"

Most of the students were already out the door, but Hope hung back to ask the professor a question.

"Professor Babbling?" Hope said cautiously and the older witch looked up with a smile.

"Hope Potter, right?" she questioned. "One of our advanced students?"

"Yes," Hope said, as the professor's eyes did the customary flick up to the scar on her forehead (honestly Hope had lost how many stares she'd gotten that morning alone). "I had a question about the types of studies we could use in the essay."

"Well, whichever one you like," Professor Babbling said, befuddlement clear.

"It's just that I was thinking about doing it on the Ancient Arts," Hope admitted and the professor couldn't even hide her surprise; after all, the Ancient Arts were largely considered Dark.

"The Ancient Arts are far too broad," she said instead, surprising Hope. "Choose one of their magic types. What ones do you know?"

"Oh, I know about Earth Magick and Blood Magick," Hope said, ticking them off on her fingers.

"Go with Blood Magick," Professor Babbling said with a smile, "you'll find it applies easier to the types of runes we're doing. Earth Magick is more advanced."

"It is?" Hope's eyebrows rose. "And you don't mind a student doing a paper on something that's considered a Dark Art?"

Her face warped into a dry expression. "That view depends on the person, I've come to find…I look forward to reading your paper on Friday, Hope."

And then Hope smiled brightly, shoving her notes and her books into her bag before making her way out to join her friends.

"What was that about?" Daphne asked.

"I'm doing my paper on Blood Magick," Hope informed them brightly as they moved around the corner, wrapping her arm around the crook of Sir Michael Richmond's elbow.

"Michael," she said, with a grin still present on her lips, "how do you feel about escorting some ladies to the Transfiguration classroom?"

The answer was a rusty chuckle. "It would be my pleasure, Milady," the suit of armor said.

"I guess that goes to show you that chivalry is dead," Hermione muttered and Daphne had to stuff her whole fist in her mouth to keep from bursting out into laughter as Hope twisted to look at them.

"Why do you two have to make my life difficult?" she complained.

"Oh, please," Daphne wheezed, "you wouldn't want it any other way."

Hope didn't bother to confirm or deny.

Fred and George were early getting to Transfiguration, which was a first for them, and they spent it pouring over a worn piece of parchment that contained the formula to one of their newer inventions, but it needed a few more refinements before they would even consider using it on anyone but themselves to test its efficiency.

"A colour change spell, really? That's the best you could come up with?"

Both boys lifted their heads to look to the speaker.

She was short with a head of green and silver hair that all those wearing Slytherin ties were subjected to. Professor McGonagall had pulled them into her office when the prank had spread through the whole house with a bland expression on her face, but since she couldn't really prove how they'd managed to get every single Slytherin, they'd gotten away with it.

"Excuse me?" Fred said, his eyebrows raising high on his forehead, but George leaned forward with a grin.

"We start off small, don't worry, it'll get worse," he informed her and Hope's eyes shifted towards him.

"I look forward to it," she said shortly, leaning against the wood of the table before making her way over to her seat with her two friends, the green and silver of her hair not quite yet beginning to fade.

"Do you think that means she's going to retaliate?" Fred asked George a moment later, befuddlement clear.

"Dunno," George said with a shrug, "but, I mean, what's the worst thing she could come up with?"

It was true that Fred and George were notorious pranksters, in fact, you would be hard pressed to find someone in Hogwarts that didn't know that. But still, they'd never really had anyone try at retaliating against their pranks, especially since the pranks themselves weren't really all that terrible, just for a good laugh, but the Slytherins were the ones that had used 'Mudblood' when talking about Hermione when the twins happened to be close, and even though they didn't know Hermione Granger hardly at all, they did know that no one deserved to be called that, so every Slytherin had gotten a head of green and silver.

They had no idea they were about to meet their match when the other students made their way inside and Professor McGonagall began her lecture.

Dear Remus–

Hogwarts is difficult. I'm sure it's no surprise that I was sorted into Slytherin, and at least I've got Daphne with me there because practically the whole house hates me and I actually ended up cursing someone at five in the morning, well, technically I cursed the drapes, but she was going to curse me so fair is fair. I don't think Slytherin house likes it when people from other houses sit at their table, because they were downright terrible when Hermione came and sat with us (and she's in Gryffindor, by the way). I did end up with a head of green and silver hair for a few hours, like the rest of the Slytherins. Apparently there are these two pranksters in Gryffindor house, Fred and George Weasley, and it was there prank, but…a colour change spell is so mild, Remus, and I need to one-up them so tomorrow the tables will turn!

In other news, I've made friends with a talking suit of armour named Sir Michael Richmond who used to work for Salazar Slytherin. He has a very odd sense of humour, but he did manage to tell us where all of our classrooms were located, but Daphne thinks we should make ourselves a map and I'm pretty sure that's the best idea I've heard all day.

–Missing you

Hope

There was something far too knowing in the smirk on Hope's face the next day when Fred and George came down for breakfast and it set them both on edge (which was remarkably impressive given how Hope was a small and short eleven year old third year who looked like a sharp gust of wind would blow her away), but she didn't move apart from shooting a scathing comment towards a Slytherin girl who made an off-hand comment about Hermione being there.

It was only about half-way through that the twins and everyone else sitting at the table began to realize there was something wrong with their voices, because every time they tried to speak, their words came out like strangled hisses.

Fred and George shared an identical look of complete confusion. There was nothing off in the taste of their food or their drink, but somehow they'd managed to become the victim of a prank.

A hand reached over to set a king piece from a chess set on the table in front of Fred and George and they both looked to find Hope standing there, her hair bound into a fishtail plait over one shoulder, a hand on a cocked hip as she leaned over to knock over the king.

"Check mate," she said swiftly. "I believe this is what you might call karma."

Fred mouthed a swear, but all that came out was another hiss that made Hope arch an eyebrow and simply say, "Well, that's not very nice."

George recoiled in surprise, trying to ask her how she could understand that when he wasn't speaking English, and Hope turned to look at him, the eyebrow still arched.

"Dearest," she said, the endearment in a clear mocking tone, "what you don't know about me could fill a book."

Fred was outraged, but appeared to grudgingly admire her ability to get even with them. George didn't even come close to understanding the words he uttered towards her, but she pulled out a small vial of a viscous blue fluid, holding it out to him.

"Serpent voice change potion," she said, "it's absorbed through the skin. I spread it over the table after everyone went to bed. It stays in the body for a few hours."

She flicked the end of her plait over her shoulder before smirking. "You should up your game, boys, I've already left you in the dust."

This time they were both outraged as she gave a light laugh, making her way out of the Great Hall with a grin before Gryffindor house could truly descend into chaos.

*Chapter 11*: Intriguing Mysteries

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Eleven: Intriguing Curiosities

It was late into the night but Hope was still wide awake, trying not to toss and turn on her bed with too much noise that it would irritate her dorm-mates.

Isla and her friends had learned to be wary of Hope now and knew better than to have a go at her while she was in the safety of her bed, especially since they'd seen her reactivate the curse on her drapes before pulling them around for bed.

But then she gave up, sitting up and pulling the book she'd shoved under her pillow the previous night, tucking her light wand behind her ear as she thumbed through the book on constellations that Mindy had gotten her as a gift of sorts before she'd left for Hogwarts.

The Slytherin common room and dormitories were located in the lowest part of the castle, which meant Hope couldn't go out and see the stars anytime she wanted (she was jealous of Hermione for that reason, since Hermione spent her nights in a high-reaching tower), and that was a bit unfortunate.

Hope traced her fingers over the stars that formed the constellation Aquila, so carefully etched into the parchment. Aquila came from the rather morbid myth of Prometheus, being the eagle that pecked at Prometheus' liver each day as punishment for giving humanity the flame, but it was also said to be the very same eagle that carried Zeus' lightning bolts. It was the contradiction that Hope liked the most.

"Dermatostixía asterión," she murmured, her green eyes glowing even though she couldn't see it, moving one of her hands over her left wrist and when she removed it there were ten small star-shaped dots against her tawny complexion, the most obvious being the three close together, Tarazed, Altair, and Alshain. The very edge stars stretched around her wrist, hidden when her hand was facing palm-up.

Hope brushed a thumb against her inner wrist where the three stars were now painted.

As far as she knew, her mother didn't have any tattoos like that, or even like the transfigured burn on her shoulder-blade, and Hope was starting to hate just how people were starting to look at her, saying she looked so much like Lily Potter even when she consistently maintained her hair as dark, not red.

It didn't help to be told that she would always be compared to her parents; she saw it in Professor Snape's eyes every day.

"He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Daphne disagreed, swallowing her pumpkin juice while Hermione looked over the Daily Prophet with interest. "If he hated you then he'd take off more points from Slytherin."

"He wouldn't," Hermione said from behind the newspaper, "you're part of his house, he doesn't take points off Slytherin."

Hope shot a scowl towards Hermione, but the brunette missed it while frowning at the news.

"I thought he was all right that first day, though," Hope insisted to Daphne, seeing as Hermione wasn't going to be any help to her cause. "And now it, I don't know, it's like he can't stand the idea of me."

"Well, you did say he and your mum were friends back in the day, maybe you're too much like her?" Daphne suggested.

"Or not enough," Hermione offered, putting down the paper with a frown. "Maybe the problem is your dad, did they get along?"

"Definitely not," Hope said, remembering what Remus had told her about their feud.

"So it's probably something to do with how much you look like your mum and how much you act like your dad," Hermione said with a shrug. "Maybe he was just getting used to you on the first day."

Annoyance encompassed the entirety of Hope's face, and Daphne couldn't blame her. Death had made her parents famous and you would be hard-pressed to find someone who wouldn't compare Hope to her parents.

"Hey, we were in Gringotts on your birthday," Hermione said suddenly and both Slytherins looked up from their food to see Hermione tapping at an article in the newspaper.

"Yeah…" Hope said slowly. They had stopped in to grab some galleons and for Hermione's parents to set up vault for Hermione to use. It had taken more time to set up Hermione's vault than it was to take the art down to Hope and Daphne's respective family vaults, and they'd been there for a short while.

Hermione twisted the paper around so that they could read the article:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. "But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

"Breaking into a vault that's already been emptied? Talk about bad luck," Hope said.

"Yeah, but wasn't that gamekeeper there?" Daphne asked, arching an eyebrow and glancing surreptitiously towards the head table where the staff was currently sitting. Hagrid with his bushy hair and large frame was rather easy to make out.

"Was he?" Hope's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. She had been a bit preoccupied with telling Remus about something she'd read in her book on Earth Magick. "I don't remember seeing him."

"Neither did I," Hermione said, her eyes distant as she tried to recall that day.

"You two were both doing things, I was just standing there," Daphne said, flicking a hand carelessly and Crabbe gave a grunt of disgust at the gesture and she gave him a sneer before turning back to the conversation. "I don't think he was very good about keeping quiet."

Daphne's eyes were fixed on one of the chandelier hanging above her, its crystals glittering amidst the spider webs. Hermione was hovering close to her parents who were speaking carefully with one of the goblins at the long upraised counter and Hope was not too far away with Remus leaning heavily on his cane, speaking in low tones but with light smiles.

"Everything seems to be in order."

Daphne's attention shifted to the goblin behind the counter two spots over from where Hermione and her parents were. The man standing before the counter was large and impossibly tall; Daphne tried not to stare.

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," the large man said, his words thick and Daphne's eyebrows furrowed. You would be hard-pressed to find someone in the Wizarding world who didn't know who Albus Dumbledore was, even Hope knew his name, though she generally felt feelings from irritation to outright anger towards him. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The giant of man handed over a latter sealed with wax and the goblin took it, reading its contents over half-moon spectacles.

Daphne realized she was paying far too much attention than she should and tried to look a bit more inconspicuous, while still listening in (which was mostly to do with the others being preoccupied, in her defence).

"Very well," the goblin said after a long moment, folding up the letter once more and extending it towards the large man. "I will have someone take you down to the vault."

And then the man stepped away to follow another goblin and Daphne was left to her boredom once more and the blonde witch gave a sigh.

"Hey, Daphne!" Hope gestured towards her. "Remus and I are going to take a cart down to the Potter vault, want to come?"

Daphne considered it briefly, which went to show how bored she was just standing around, but she had coins in a bag in the pocket of her robes and she tended to get motion-sickness when her parents took her down to the Greengrass family vault.

"No thanks," she said, looking a little green at the mere thought, "it's probably better for my stomach to stay up here."

Hope laughed, taking Remus' arm. "If you say so. We'll be back soon."

Daphne gave an unenthusiastic wave with two fingers that earned her a smile from the pair and as they walked past Daphne could hear Remus chuckling.

"I think you might have a bit of an obsession with lavender, Hope," he was saying.

"How is a field of wild lavender a bad idea?" Hope complained and Daphne forced herself not to snort.

There was a hum of quiet conversation from the Grangers, but apart from that, there was nothing until the large man appeared stuffing a small package into his pocket.

"Someone tried to steal something that the headmaster had removed from Gringotts?" Hermione asked flummoxed. "Whatever it is, it must be really valuable."

"Or dangerous," Hope mused.

The chess king weighed in Fred's hand as he tossed it up and down with contemplation while George examined the solution in the vial that Hope had given them (and that was another curiosity; why had she just given it to them? It felt like she was goading them…).

"We really need this potion," George said and it had only been two days since Hope (and possibly her two friends) had retaliated against their prank.

"We do," Fred complained, sagging his shoulders. "And I doubt she's just going to hand over the ingredients or the instructions."

"It doesn't hurt to ask."

Both boys yelped, whipping around to see Hope standing with her arms looped through her two friends, an eyebrow arched and lips smirking.

Hermione was hiding her giggles behind her free hand, but Daphne didn't bother to smother her snort of amusement.

"You know what they say about Gryffindor stubbornness," Daphne remarked lightly.

"I'm a Gryffindor," Hermione reminded her, like she'd forgotten.

"And I'm stubborn," Hope agreed.

Daphne gave an airy wave.

They had to be the strangest trio of friends that Fred or George had ever met and neither was sure if that was a compliment.

"Will you please give us the potion instructions?" George asked, very put upon, but for the sake of pranking, willing to bend to her will.

Hope considered him, tilting her head just slightly, causing a loose curl to fall free from her plait.

"Better luck next time, dearest," she said.

"Okay, but is next time after we win this little war of ours or—"

Fred was cut off by Daphne.

"What makes you think you're going to win?" she asked, resting her free arm on her hip.

"Experience," Fred said smoothly.

"Oh, we'll see about that," Daphne said and Hope's lips curled.

"I really wouldn't test her," Hope suggested, "she once knocked out a werewolf with a spell she invented on the fly."

The spell itself had been a botched Disarming Spell that had instead knocked Remus clear out while weighing his body down like lead, which Daphne insisted was her intent.

"Where'd you meet a werewolf?" George asked dubious.

"I'm a girl of mystery," Daphne declared and Hermione rolled her eyes as she tugged on Hope who in turn tugged on Daphne –they were like a human centipede of sass and it was only slightly unnerving to Fred–, jerking them into moving once more.

"We're going to be late for Potions," Hermione said, "And Snape takes points off Gryffindors, so…"

Fred and George feverishly checked their watches before rushing off in the direction of the dungeons.

"How do you feel about a short-cut?" Hope asked.

Fred and George arrived a few minutes late to Potions class and Snape was not pleased.

"Weasley, Weasley, that's ten points each from Gryffindor," he said, before returning his attention to the chalkboard he was scrawling the directions for the Shrinking Solution on the board.

Fred and George took their seats silently, but then George nudged his brother and Fred followed his line of sight to one of the cluster of seats close to the front.

He gaped as Hope Potter gave a small wave with only a few fingers.

How in the name of Merlin had they beaten them there?

One of the problems that the girls had come to realize was that it was hard for them to meet outside of their common rooms just to hang out. Gryffindors didn't like Slytherins all that much, and the same was true vice versa, though a bit more negative towards the Gryffindors. Abandoned classrooms weren't nearly so much fun to meet in and neither was the Great Hall, but the answer came to Hope in the form of Salazar's journal.

"Morea Avis had a study in her family home, before she even met Salazar," Hope explained as they took to the stairs, their bags swinging precariously as they did so. "She'd only been dead a few years when he joined up with the other Founders to create Hogwarts, and he built a secret room that was identical to the one in her family home."

In Salazar's journal he had listed instructions to where to find his wife's study and how to reach it, saying that it had been untouched since her tragic demise and that he had no intention to enter it. It was actually a complete replica, seeing as she had died before Hogwarts was built, and after he had placed all of her things inside it, he had never entered it again.

"You know, have I ever told you how tragic your family history is?" Daphne mentioned to Hope and Hope rolled her eyes.

"What can I say, we Slytherins never do anything by halves," she said, "insanity, matricide, sororicide, love of the Ancient Arts, you know, fun stuff."

Hermione was choking on her laughter. "Oh my God, Hope!"

"What? It's not a lie," Hope said in faux-innocence that neither of her friends believed for a second. "I swear, it's like my family is cursed, maybe that's why there's only one Potter left."

"Or the Potter family wasn't that big to begin with," Daphne muttered dryly as the staircase stopped moving. "Now, where are we?"

"Fourth floor," Hope said, stepping onto the landing and then out onto the long corridor, sliding her hands over the wall as if searching for something the other two couldn't see, only to pause when her foot smoothed other a runic design on one of the stones of the floor. "Here it is."

Hope cleared her throat to speak the phrase clearly: "Give me a place to stand, and I will move the earth."

"You've read the Iliad?" Hermione asked, surprise colouring her voice and expression briefly before she shook her head. "I don't even know why I'm surprised, with how much you love mythology."

Hope's eyes glittered. "It was actually my grandmother's password to her old quarters. Salazar just made sure that it worked here, too."

"What—?" Daphne started to say, only to pull up short when the stones of the wall slid outward as if they were steps intended to be trodden on. But they hardly looked strong enough to bear their weight, no matter what Hope thought.

"Up we go," Hope said, and, before Daphne or Hermione could stop her, she placed her weight on the first step, taking one after then other until she could press a hand against the trapdoor on the ceiling, opening it and then taking the last step and disappearing inside the hidden room.

Daphne and Hermione shared a bemused look before Hope's head reappeared, poking out of the hole to grin at them. "Come on, you two," she said, "the steps aren't going to break."

And then her head disappeared again, leaving her dubious friends to consider one another before it was decided that Hermione would make her way up first ("You're the Gryffindor!" "That has absolutely nothing to do with anything!" Hermione complained.).

And then they found themselves staring around in awe.

The area was wide and spacious, clearly made for someone who moved around a lot, if not for a few persons. There was a fire flickering the stone carved fireplace, one that Hermione very much doubted ever went out, whether the weather was warm or cold, and there was a large carpet thrown over the floor by the fire with a couch and two poufy armchairs resting on top of it. There was a cushioned seat against the window that had a book resting on it, making it look as though someone had just been sitting there, reading the book.

There was a small staircase that Hermione would bet led up to a secluded sleeping area, a bit like the Gryffindor dormitories, in that aspect, but it was hidden behind a curtain and there were far more things in the room to distract her.

There was a bookshelf stacked to the ceiling with old tomes that looked as though they hadn't been read in centuries, and there was a shelf filled with rare potion ingredients and stoppered potion flasks, each of which, according to Salazar, had a permanent Everlasting Charm on them to keep the potion within from getting old and stale.

"Great, isn't it?" Hope said, grinning widely towards her friends as they moved to examine everything before Daphne flopped down onto one of the armchairs, curling into it with a sigh, looking very much like she could easily fall asleep there.

"It's fantastic," Hermione hardly dared to breathe, already moving towards the shelf to take one of the books off, thumbing through it with interest.

If there was one class that Ron Weasley was sure that most people were looking toward to, it was the flying class, you could hardly walk down a hallway full of first years and not find someone talking about it.

He'd even walked past Hermione Granger –famous already for being so steadfast in her friendship with two Slytherins– reading a book on the subject while Daphne Greengrass said, a bit helplessly, to the side of her, "You know, Hermione, I really don't think that's going to help."

Hermione had swatted Daphne.

Ron had never met or even spoken to Hope Potter and he honestly wasn't sure he wanted to. There was something about her that made her seem almost unapproachable. Perhaps it was that she didn't seem to smile unless in the presence of her friends, perhaps it was because rumours had already spread since the very day she'd been sorted into Slytherin instead of the expected Gryffindor of her Dark magic (that was the only way she'd survived the Killing Curse when she was a baby, see).

But Ron thought it was a bit much to accuse an eleven year old of being a Dark Witch when the only thing she had done 'wrong' was be sorted into Slytherin and skip two years.

So that afternoon he found himself standing opposite her and the other Slytherins, her wand stuck through her bun while Daphne –standing beside her like always– was examining what appeared to be something on her inner wrist with a bit of amusement before releasing it with a small laugh as their teacher approached, her robes dark and billowing in the wind as she moved on swift feet.

"I am Madam Hooch," the woman said sharply, her eyes narrowing as she took in them all, "your flying instructor. Now, I hope everyone has found a broom—"

There was a scramble for the few of them that hadn't and Hope found Draco Malfoy standing beside her, and it was difficult to see who was more disgusted by that fact, Hope or Draco.

"Come on, now, hurry up," Madam Hooch said and the two lines smoothed out. "Stick out your right hand over your broom and say up."

There was a chorus of "Up!"s filling the air.

"Up!" Ron said, but his broom just rolled over, and he looked up in time to see the broom beside Hope fly right up into her hand and Draco looking to her in outrage. Hope smirked for good measure as it took the blond wizard another try before he could manage to get his broom in his hand.

Daphne and Hermione both had some rather temperamental broomsticks, if how they merely rolled over when either of the girls uttered the single word was any indication. But Neville Longbottom's hadn't even moved at all. Privately, Ron thought that was a wise choice. Neville was rather clumsy himself with his two feet on the ground, he didn't even want to think what he'd be like in the air.

"Up!" Ron said again, and this time it moved, shooting up to whack him in the face with its shaft. Ron muffled a complaint while Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, the traitors, laughed beside him.

"Oh, shut up," he muttered before he managed to get a grip on the broomstick at long last.

It was a few minutes after that, during which Madam Hooch went over the proper way to hold the broom and how to mount it in a way that would keep you from falling off the end, before she had them mount the brooms in preparation of pushing off the ground.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch said to them, her hawk-like easy stern. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle –three–two—"

She had lifted the whistle to her lips, preparing to blow when Neville pushed off a bit too soon and on a broom that was clearly as unruly as Fred and George had described. He shot straight up despite Madam Hooch's yells for him to come back before falling off the broom and falling to collided against the ground with a sickening crack, and Ron knew he wasn't the only one that had winced.

Madam Hooch was at his side in an instant with a soft mumble telling those gathered around that all he had broken was his wrist. She helped straighten him up before turning her steely eyes on all of them. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.'"

Ron thought that might be a bit excessive, but he didn't argue as their teacher disappeared towards the castle with Neville in tow.

Then he heard laughter and the first thing he noticed was Hope glaring furiously at Draco as he guffawed.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The laughter belled out on the Slytherin side, but Hope and Daphne didn't join in, and another girl close to the end appeared vaguely annoyed.

"Why don't we break your arm, Draco, and see how you react," Daphne remarked coolly and Pansy Parkinson leapt at the chance (evidently there was a bit of tension between Hope and Daphne and the other Slytherin eleven year olds.

"Ooh! Sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Daphne."

Hope spoke up that time. "I never thought you could actually string enough words together to form an actual sentence."

Laughter rippled from the Gryffindor side, perhaps unintentionally as Hope said something that Ron couldn't understand and could hardly hear to her friend, making her laugh lightly while Pansy flushed a splotchy red and Draco leaned down to pluck a clear ball out of the glass, the Remembrall Neville's grandmother had given him.

But the interesting thing was that Hope had lifted a hand as if to cup something invisible, a murmur of the same ancient language she had uttered before to Daphne passing her lips, but this time, her eyes glowed a faint green and Draco jolted as the Remembrall disappeared, unaware of how it reappeared in Hope's palm at the same moment.

She caught Ron looking and gave him a wink before slipping the orb into her pocket.

"Potter, you are a vision of loveliness."

Ron didn't think he'd ever heard Fred compliment anyone like that, barring Angelina, of course, and Angelina was snorting into her pumpkin juice as Hope strolled by, eyes a bright hazel now and cheeks pink as she smiled.

"Oh, Weasley, you know compliments don't work on me," she said, and those eyes reflected the very same blue. "The answer's still no."

Fred pouted and George laughed.

"I'm actually here for your brother," she said, sliding away from the twins and towards Ron, who'd dropped his spoon into his soup with a loud clatter in his surprise.

She spared him a smile, pulling the Remembrall out of her pocket and resting it on the table. "You can give this to Neville," she said and he scrutinized her.

"Why don't you give it to him yourself?" he asked her curiously and she blinked.

"I don't know him like you do," she said wryly, "besides, I've heard the rumours about me. I wouldn't want someone like that returning my property."

The bitterness in her voice was obvious and Ron took the Remembrall, still contemplating her, like a player who wasn't sure which direction to move his piece.

"Do you want to come with me to give it back?" he asked her, and surprise coloured her face, along with a bit of hesitance, though Ron couldn't imagine why.

"All right," she said after a long moment and Ron grabbed his school bag, leaving Hope to follow at a leisure pace.

Fred gave a wolf-whistle and Hope shot a glare over her shoulder as they took to the staircase, Ron's ears red.

"Sorry about that," he muttered, "they're—"

"Insufferable, yes, I'd gathered," Hope snorted, "Fred more so than George."

"Well, George is a bit less obvious," Ron had to concede.

Hope shrugged. "My uncle would say that subtlety is a learned art."

"The Muggle?" Ron said, his eyebrows rising on his forehead, even as her eyes shifted to meet his, but he couldn't help but ask; Hope Potter's story was rather well-known to Wizarding children, and the fact that she'd gone to live with Muggles was common knowledge.

"No," Hope said wryly, "Remus was one of my father's closest friends, but we're not related…does everyone know about the Girl-Who-Lived?"

She said 'Girl-Who-Lived' like she was talking about someone who wasn't her.

"More or less," Ron said and she sighed.

This was the most he'd seen her talk outside of her friends, or even in front of Fred and George.

An annoyed huff parted from her lips as they finally reached the hospital wing.

Neville was in the hospital bed closest to the door, which was helpful, but he was for the most part out of it, apparently the matron had given him something to calm his nerves.

Hope hung back as Ron placed the Remembrall on the bedside table next to him, but when he turned back there was an odd look on her face.

He meant to ask her about it, but then Hermione's face whipped around the corner making a small gesture.

"Draco's a jerk," Hope told Ron, "but not all Slytherins are bad."

And then she was gone, leaving Ron a bit befuddled.

It was almost midnight when Hermione realized that she'd left one of her books in Morea's Secret Room. Ordinarily, this wouldn't usually be much of a problem, she could probably grab the book before she went down to breakfast to join Daphne and Hope, but…she really wanted to look over the conclusion to her Transfiguration essay one more time, and she'd shut it in the book.

Hermione sighed before throwing the covers off her bed and opening the curtains that usually hid herself from view, grabbing up her wand from the bedside table and the dressing gown before making her way slowly out of the dormitory where everyone else was fast asleep, padding silently out of the portrait hall.

When the portrait shut behind her, Hermione realized two things; one was that the Fat Lady, the painted image that usually resided in the portrait, was gone, and the second was that Neville was leaning against the wall, fast asleep.

Hermione's lips curled in faint amusement. Neville was rather famous now for forgetting the password into the Gryffindor common room. He must have tried to get in when he'd been released from the hospital wing only to realize he didn't actually know how to get in.

That left Hermione with two options, either waking him up knowing that the Fat Lady might not be back for awhile and have him follow her to Morea's Secret Room, and Hope wouldn't thank her for that, or just wake him up when she got back.

It wasn't like Hermione was going to be gone very long to begin with, so it would be better just to wake him up when she got back.

Hermione gave a nod to herself, stepping carefully down the corridor. It was dark, but the braziers were lit, casting dark shadows on the floor and walls as Hermione searched for a moving staircase to take her downwards.

The problem was, it was so late that halfway down the staircase that led to the fourth floor Hermione realized she'd forgotten which floor she was on.

She muffled a complaint to herself, taking one more staircase down to the third floor, despite her thinking it was only the fourth, and it was only when she started to walk around, sliding her hand along the wall that she realized that she didn't recognize the corridor at all.

Not all of the corridors in the castle had portraits mounted on the wall, that was true, and there was a blank stretch of stone before the trapdoor that led up into the secret room, but at least on that corridor there were other tapestries and portraits a bit further down the line.

Here there was nothing.

Maybe Hermione should just turn back around and go back to bed…after all, she didn't want to be caught out of bounds, that had never really been her thing to begin with. Hermione was more often the girl actually following the rules.

A sharp meow jarred her out of her thoughts and Hermione's attention shifted downwards to where a cat was sitting in front of her. The tufty and long dust-coloured fur and gleaming yellow eyes were enough to tell Hermione that this was Mrs. Norris, the cat that belonged to Argus Filch, the caretaker. She'd only seen the cat a few times, but she remembered overhearing some Gryffindors complaining about the cat, because getting caught out of bounds by the cat was almost as bad as getting caught by Filch, and Hermione really didn't want that.

So she took off, her heart racing in her chest, ducking into the first door she could find on the right hand side, or, she tried to, but the door was locked.

There was a sound of quick moving feet, spurring Hermione to grasp her wand tightly and mutter, "Alohomora!"

And she shut it behind her feverishly, breathing hard as the footsteps stopped outside the door she was hovering behind, the only sound her frantic breaths and the sound of her blood rushing in her ears.

But the next moment Filch and his cat, presumably, had gone and she could breathe a sigh of relief.

But her relief didn't remain as she turned around, suddenly remembering Professor Dumbledore's words when they'd first arrived at the school: "I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

And a painful death was certain, that much Hermione knew as her fear reached new heights, because she had found herself in the very corridor that the headmaster had warned all against entering.

Hermione flattened herself against the door in horror. It was the most terrifying thing she'd ever seen, not that that was saying much. It was a three-headed dog, massive and filling up the entire corridor; Hermione didn't doubted that if it had been locked up in a room that it would rip that room apart by mere force.

Its teeth were frighteningly sharp and Hermione found her eyes drifting downwards, following its impossibly dark eyes to its yellow teeth, to the ripple of its muscles beneath its fur, to the lethal-looking nails on large paws, situated in front of a trapdoor, but Hermione couldn't think about that.

All Hermione could think about was how the three heads were growling at her and Hermione really didn't want to end up as dog food.

She grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, only opening it to allow her enough space to dart through it, yanking it shut behind her and uttering the locking spell to keep the dog at bay, flinching at the barking beyond the door.

"Are you all right?"

Hermione jumped at the sudden voice, whipping around, and yelping only to press a calming hand to her heart where she recognized the long dark hair and green eyes.

"Hope!" she gasped. "You're going to give me a heart attack!"

Hope arched an eyebrow, a bit bemused by her friend's response, but she waited for her to regain her breath.

"Are you all right?" Hope repeated.

"There's a three-headed dog in there!" Hermione whispered shrilly, jabbing a finger towards the door she'd just locked, the noise beyond it having quieted while she'd regained her breath.

Hope, true to her love of questionable and dangerous things, gained an eager light in her eyes, even as her eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

"Really?" she asked, taking a step around Hermione, perhaps to open the door, before Hermione pulled her back; once was enough, thank you, very much. "A Cerberus?"

Of course, Hope and her love of mythology. Hermione almost sighed.

"I don't know, maybe," Hermione muttered, running a shaking hand through her hair. "Can we leave, please? I don't need another heart attack…what are you even doing out?"

Hope shrugged as Hermione looped her arm around Hope's, latching onto her in an effort to calm her. "I sleep better at Potter Manor, but I always did have problems sleeping."

She did walk around a lot, that much Hermione remembered from the days she'd spent the night at Hope's place.

"What about you?" Hope asked as they waited for the staircase to move into place.

"I left my book in Morea's Secret Room," Hermione sighed, "and then I got turned around…"

They took the stairs up to the fourth floor, remaining silent until they reached the spot where the stairs were hidden and Hope murmured the password, glancing around to see if there were any patrols around before following Hermione up the stairs and into the room.

"I almost died," Hermione moaned, collapsing against the couch, throwing an arm over her eyes, doing nothing more than seriously regretting her life choices. "That dog almost ate me!"

Hope arched an eyebrow, but Hermione completely missed it.

"I mean, the dog was massive!" she said, using both hands to emphasize her point. "What on earth is a thing like that doing here?"

Hope shrugged, dropping Hermione's book onto her stomach, making the brunette release a small "Umph!" "I couldn't tell you," she said. "Did you want to sleep here, or do you want to go back to Gryffindor Tower?"

Hermione sat up, narrowing her eyes at Hope. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Why would I be?" Hope asked, brow wrinkled in confusion. "I'm not in Care For Magical Creatures, the only monsters I'm familiar with are the ones from mythology or the Dursleys."

Hermione snorted, gathering her book against her chest. "The Dursleys weren't monsters."

"I'm only calling it how I see it," Hope said without even blinking, and Hermione spared her friend a wry smile before descending the steps.

It took a remarkably short amount of time to return to the seventh floor, where Hermione found that Neville had evidently awakened but the Fat Lady's portrait was still empty.

"Neville," Hermione said, "is the Fat Lady still gone?"

Neville squeaked in surprise, so focused on the other direction that he didn't see either girl. Hermione gave him a small smile and he relaxed.

"Er, yeah, I'm sure she'll be back soon, though," he said, but there was a doubting note in his voice, and he glanced from her to Hope.

The silence was awkward.

"Er, thanks for getting my Remembrall from Malfoy," he managed to say, pink-faced in the firelight.

"I'm not against stealing from other people," Hope said, tilting her head slightly, "but it's different when you're stealing from someone when they don't deserve it." She tugged on a long curl. "I'm Hope, by the way."

"I know," he said before flushing in embarrassment. "I mean, everyone knows who you are."

"I'm Alice's goddaughter," Hope said, ignoring that comment, which Hermione felt was probably the best course of action, and that caused Neville to go positively white.

Hermione presumed that 'Alice' was Neville's mother.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your parents," Hope said, and it was heartfelt. If there was someone who understood what it was like growing up without parents, it was her.

Neville appeared to struggle briefly with his words. "I'm sorry about yours."

"Don't worry," Hope said bitterly, "tragedy is one thing my family's had a lot of."

Then she squeezed Hermione's arm and made her way off in the direction of the dungeons, leaving Neville looking at Hermione in confusion.

Hope freely admitted that she was of the Slytherin line, but even so, it was regarded as a lie by the Slytherin House, and there weren't many outside of the house that knew that bit of information about her and if Hope didn't speak about it, then Hermione wouldn't.

They waited for the Fat Lady's return in silence and it was only when Hermione was back in her own bed that she remembered that there was a trapdoor in the floor that the three-headed dog had been guarding.

Hope was slow making her way back down to the dungeons, her thoughts loud and echoing in her skull.

She had never seen or even met her own godmother, just as she had never met her godfather, but she remembered well the description that Ragnok had given her back when she'd visited Gringotts before she left Number Four Privet Drive: "Alice Longbottom is currently in the long-term ward at St. Mungo's along with her husband for insanity, while Sirius Black remains in his cell in Azkaban."

Hope couldn't imagine visiting her parents and knowing that they didn't have any idea who she was because some Death Eaters had decided to make mince meat out of their minds.

She supposed, technically, Neville was her god-brother of sorts, but she hadn't really talked to him before today, and even that conversation had been a bit awkward; it was easier speaking with Daphne and Hermione than anyone else.

But she was jarred out of her thoughts at the sound of feet moving over stone. However, before she could even consider a good hiding place, a cold hand wound around her wrist, jerking her forward, and dragging her behind a suit of armour. Hope looked up, startled into pale green eyes that were so unlike Remus'. A finger pressed against his lips, miming silence before his form became smoke, fading away.

Hope's eyes were wide saucers. That was definitely not a ghost, and definitely not a skill she'd ever read about.

Just who was that?

"I heard you had an adventure last night, Hermione."

Daphne was sniggering at Hermione while she spread jam on her toast and Hermione groaned against her book where it was resting on the table.

"Adventure is not the word I would use," she said in a bit of a muffle. "Ten out of ten would not recommend."

"Noted," Hope and Daphne said as one, attempting to stifle their amusement, the traitors.

Hope was reading through a letter that Hedwig had left her with, recognizing the tidy scrawl of Remus' handwriting.

"Remus has precise instructions about how to make your own map of Hogwarts," Hope said to the girls with a bit of bemusement. "So, I'm pretty sure he's made a map before."

"Is it hard?" Daphne asked, swiping the folded parchment from Hope before the girl could give a reply and Hope tried her hardest not to sigh. "Oh, well, I guess it's more complicated than hard…"

"Give me that!" Hope snatched it back from Daphne's grip, almost ripping the parchment before she gave it a bit of a flick. "I wasn't done reading that!"

"What's Remus doing, anyways?" Hermione asked. "Now that you aren't around it's got to be boring at Potter Manor."

Daphne laughed at the scandalized expression on Hope's face.

"Hermione Jean Granger," Hope said, "are you calling my house boring?"

"Are you calling it a house?" Hermione asked quirking an eyebrow and Daphne was gone, stifling her laughter into her hands so the scowling Slytherins far from their sides wouldn't have another reason to glare at them.

"We're a bad influence on you," Hope decided.

And it was then that a distraction was caused by a large majority of the Great Hall suddenly losing their heads.

Hope dropped her spoon when Hermione's head completely vanished. "Holy Hades! Hermione, you're head's gone!"

"My head! What about yours!" Hermione's voice came from the blank space above her uniform's collar.

Daphne appeared to be the only one of the three who was spared the fate of having an invisible head, but she was far from being the only one unaffected. There were a few Slytherins as well, as well as several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and a handful of Gryffindors which included the Weasley twins.

"Oh, I'm going to get them," Hope grumbled as George made his way over to their grouping while his twin laughed into the table; evidently he hadn't expected the result to be that strong.

"I believe this belongs to you," George said, smirking as he held out the chess king to the girls and Daphne took it, eyeing the red-head suspiciously.

"An invisibility charm that didn't affect everyone? How did you manage that?" she asked, half-curious and half-grudging respect.

George winked. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. Good day, ladies."

He gave an exaggerated bow before making his way back to his brother.

"I'm just curious, but are all Gryffindors that ridiculous?" Hope wondered aloud.

"I think he and Fred have a talent for it," Hermione muttered, taking another drink from her pumpkin juice, which was rather disconcerting, if Hope had to say so herself.

"Oh, we are going to get them back!" Daphne declared.

"We?" Hermione demanded. "Do I look like a prankster to you?"

"Honey," Daphne simpered, "you don't look like anything."

Hope could imagine Hermione's eyes flashing and her cheeks flushing in colour. "Oi!"

"Calling it like it is," Daphne said smoothly while Hope smothered her snort. "Come on, Hermione, use your powers for good! You bring up our group average!"

"Oh, so that's how it is?"

Hope merely shook her head, even though neither of them could see it.

Hope found herself in the library after Defense Against the Dark Arts had gotten out for the day and after the invisibility charm had worn off. The one thing on her mind –barring getting even with the Weasley twins, and that would definitely be happening– was that boy she'd seen the previous night. There had been something very familiar about him.

"Can I help, Weasley?" she asked without looking up from the bookshelf that she was lightly tapping her fingers against, searching for a book, not one in particular, but one to give her the answer she was looking for.

"I'm still trying to figure you out," George admitted, leaning against the shelf and causing Hope to glance up briefly and arch an eyebrow.

"What's there to figure out?" she asked. "Everyone seems to know more about me than I do."

"Ah, the consequences of fame," George gave an exaggerated sigh that made Hope scoff. "But, really, I think this is the most fun Fred and I have had off the Quidditch field, I guess I'm just surprised since you lot are Slytherins."

Hope gave him a look.

"Well, not Hermione," he acquiesced, "but you get my meaning."

"Unfortunately," Hope said, moving past him to try the opposite shelf. It couldn't be this hard to find a book on the Founders, could it? "My house isn't the most welcoming."

And that putting it lightly.

"But I'm not my house," she said, dragging her eyes from the tomes to look at him. "I like having fun and so does Daphne. Just because the rest of our house likes to have sticks up their arses doesn't mean we like it too."

He laughed loud enough to earn him a glare from the librarian, the vulture-like Madam Pinch. "I didn't think I'd ever hear a Slytherin admit that."

"What can I say," Hope muttered, "I'm a curiosity."

Ah! There it was!

The Early Life of the Hogwarts Founders. With a generic name like that, the chances were that it had to have an image of some kind of the Founders when they were young, and that was definitely what Hope was looking for. She'd almost missed it since the binding was so old and the lettering on the spine was almost completely worn away.

The problem was it was on the shelf that was above her head, just out of reach, even if Hope bounced on the tips of her toes, and she did try that, her fingers barely managing to touch the book's spine.

"Need some help?" George asked, his amusement evident.

"If you wouldn't mind," Hope said, only a little bit embarrassed as he grasped the book easily and pulled it down to a manageable height for her to take it from him. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said. "And, on the off chance that we come to a truce with you, will you give us the recipe to that potion you used on us?"

Hope took the book and handing it to Madam Pinch to check out and a moment later the older witch gave her a sharp nod and a warning to not bend the pages and to have it back within a week.

"That's a bit underhanded," she said smirking, "very Slytherin of you."

She liked how he didn't consider that to be an insult, merely giving her a grin.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see, but I make no promises," she said, turning on her heel and making her way away from him.

"What'd she say?" Fred asked, coming down the corridor from around the corner.

"Maybe," George laughed, "we might have met our match."

"Never!"

Hope flicked through the pages, leaning against a stone bench, her eyes moving over the words on the pages and the painted pictures. Then she found it. She was sure she stopped breathing for a few seconds, and she had gone stock still as she gazed at the youthful face of Salazar Slytherin. He was just like that single glimpse that Hope had gotten the night before, the one that had hidden her from a Prefect patrol behind a suit of armour; dark tousled hair, pale eyes, sharp features, and a cocky smile. She was far more surprised that he easily stood beside Godric Gryffindor, someone whom he had apparently hated –if the current rivalries were anything to go by–, smiling secretively, as if they knew something that no one else did.

Hope frowned thoughtfully.

The nineteenth was Hermione's birthday, but she wasn't expecting all that much, to be perfectly honest, but then her friends had told her to meet them in Morea's Secret Room after class.

"Tell me it's not a surprise party," Hermione asked, sounding a bit put upon that was artfully faked.

"If we told you," Daphne said sagely, "then it wouldn't be a surprise."

"You lot don't have to do that," Hermione insisted. "I don't need a party."

"Well, it's not much of a party," Hope pointed out, "I mean, it's just us, some presents and some cake, what could possibly go wrong?"

It was strange to think that there had once been a time before Hope and Daphne, before Hermione had known about magic, before she'd had her teeth straightened, back when she'd been a target in class for her intelligence.

But here she was, taking the piece of cake that Daphne had sloppily cut while Hope laughed, trying not to choke on her pumpkin juice.

"Where did you even get this stuff? The kitchens?" Hermione asked, swallowing a bite of cake before her stomach could give another pathetic growl.

"Don't be stupid," Daphne said, waving a hand carelessly. "We haven't figured out how to get into the kitchens yet."

"The cake and juice is from Mindy," Hope supplied. "She'll take everything back when we're done with it."

Hermione's heart felt like it had grown two whole sizes.

"And Remus sent this for you," Hope added, extending a slip of parchment to Hermione and she took it with a confused expression. "Flourish and Blotts has this thing where you can put money into a tab to use to buy their books, but only if you keep that slip of parchment, so don't lose it."

"That's really sweet," Hermione said, and it was, but if there was someone outside of her parents and her friends that knew about her love for books, it was definitely Remus.

"That's Remus for you, sweeter than chocolate."

"I'm going to tell him you said that," Daphne sniggered and Hope rolled her eyes. "Our gift is pretty simple, and we already told you what it was about a week or two ago."

It was a brush spelled to braid the hair it was run through.

"And a bag of sweets from Honeydukes one out first trip into Hogsmeade," Hope added.

"Yeah, that too."

"You two are the best!" Hermione threw her arms around both girls' shoulders, not even caring if they knocked heads.

Potions class was a menace and Hope wasn't even getting the worst of it. She was greeted with frosty looks and clipped words whenever Snape had to so much as speak towards her, but Hope had gotten used to his dislike.

He was worse to Hermione and the other Gryffindors, and Hermione took his docking of points with better grace than a few other people that Hope wouldn't name. It was also clear that he didn't particularly like the twins, maybe for the same reason that he didn't like Hope and Daphne as well as the other Slytherins he had.

Unfortunately, today Hope had forgotten her Potions book in her dorm and she didn't have enough time to run back and grab it, because when she'd realized she didn't have it, the class had just begun.

If you could call it even a class, personally Hope felt it was more like cooking magical soup with supervision.

When Remus had taught them he had gone over everything that went into making a potion, the effects that heating and cooling had, what kind of ingredients mixed well together and which ones should be avoided. Remus had made Potions fun, but Snape just sat back and watched them all flounder and when they inevitably did so, it was blamed on their own shortcomings rather than his as a teacher.

Hope ripped some lovage leaves up before throwing them into the cauldron, stirring anti-clockwise, and adding some sneezewort.

She was sharing Hermione's book, which explained why both of their potions were turning up a bit less thick than they should be. Hope tensed when he passed behind her, stirring stiffly and when she looked over his arm to the parchment that listed their grades out of ten on each of the potions they did in class, which went towards their final grade, and her jaw dropped in outrage at the fat zero next to her name.

"Maybe he'll revise it?" Daphne suggested once they'd left the dungeon, but it was clear in her voice that she doubted that would happen.

"I wish we still had Remus as a teacher," Hope bemoaned before pulling out her compact mirror and saying clearly, "Remus Lupin."

"You're going to complain to Remus?" Hermione asked.

"I'm irritated, of course I'm going to complain to Remus," she said shortly before the werewolf's face appeared in the mirror, concern clear in his eyes behind rectangular spectacles that suited him very well.

"Hope? Are you all right?" he asked.

"Say, hypothetically, you had someone brewing a Confusing Concoction and they followed the instructions but still ended up with it being a little runny, what kind of grade would you give that person?"

Remus considered her for a few moments. "Out of ten?"

Hope nodded and the other two peered over her shoulder, listening in on the answer.

"Perhaps a seven, if they did everything—"

"Now that's outrageous!" Hope complained. "He gave Hermione a seven and me a zero and we were using the same damn book, Remus! At the very least I deserved a five!"

Remus grimaced on the other end. "Well, I—"

"Hope Potter?"

Three heads looked up and Hope found herself staring at Fred and George's spectacled older brother, Percy, a Gryffindor Prefect.

"Depends on the day," she said and Remus, the mirrors still being connected, chuckled.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to come collect you," the red-haired lad said, "he'd like a word with you in his office."

Hope's smile was indulgent. "Of course he would," she said, her voice dripping in saccharine before she lifted the mirror to her eye-level. "Remus, if I ever express any desire to return to the Dursleys, you know it's because that manipulative old codger got to me."

She closed the mirror before she could even hear his reply and Percy looked startled at the callous way she referred to the headmaster, but Hope's day was already off to a terrible start and she had always been painfully clear about her feelings concerning Albus Dumbledore.

Hope followed after Percy as he led her up several flights of stairs before coming out before a gargoyle that was shaped very much like a griffin.

"Acid Pop," Percy told it and the gargoyle moved out of the way and he ushered her inside and up the staircase.

The stairs were short and came out at a door and Hope paused, considering being obnoxious for a brief moment before knocking loud enough to be heard and opening the door.

There was nothing but silence when Hope creaked the door open, peering inside before opening it a bit more and stepping inside, looking around curiously. She had never seen anything like it before, not even in Potter Manor. There were shelves upon shelves of books that would quite possibly take her a lifetime to read, the walls were completely covered with portraits, and there were a surprising number of strangely shaped silver objects that either made soft whistling noises or emitted light puffs of smoke.

But Hope's attention was fixated more on the phoenix that was sitting on its mount, its feathers a bright red and gold. It trilled her a soft crooning note and Hope presumed was meant to be comforting in some way.

"Ah, Hope, good, come and sit."

The way he spoke to her in such a familiar way, like a grandfather would, grated on her nerves. It was a kind of familiarity Hope reserved for family and close friends, which was to say not him.

But she came forward, moving past the phoenix to sit opposite him behind his large desk and high-backed chair. She wondered if the intention was to make her feel small.

Professor Dumbledore was dressed in deep blue robes and his eyes were twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.

"How are you finding your classes?" he asked her and Hope got the feeling that he wanted to ask something else and was trying to build up to it.

Not a chance.

"I have a class in twenty minutes," she said shortly, "why don't you say what you really want to?"

"Very to the point," he said kindly, his cause not yet lost, "very like Lily in that respect."

He already had a point against him for that.

"As I'm sure you're aware, living with Remus Lupin presents a certain…danger—"

Hope's eyes darkened to solid black, her hair lightening just slightly to bronze, making her look very much like she could have been Thanatos' daughter.

"Oh, I see," she said, her tone positively frigid. "First you tried to convince the man who is in so many ways the uncle I should have been raised by that I was safer in a home where I was the least loved by far and the least cared for, but since that didn't work you're going after him? After all you did to get him accepted into Hogwarts? Really?"

Disgusted didn't even begin to cover the expression that Hope was currently wearing as she grabbed her bag and stood once more before Dumbledore could so much as speak.

"Remus didn't have to stay and look after me," she said coolly, "but he did, and I love him for it, because he's my family. The only family I will accept living with are him or my grandfather if he had the ability to sleep—"

"Grandfather?" Dumbledore said startled, but Hope was already talking over him.

"Did you honestly think that the manor wasn't protected after living with him for more than a year?" Hope demanded. "From what I can tell, the only danger to me, is you, so good day, Professor."

And then she stormed out, slamming the door after her and Dumbledore had the worst sense of foreboding.

"Hey, are you all right?" Lee Jordan asked during Transfiguration, leaning across the aisle from his desk, his brows furrowed.

"Peachy," Hope said shortly. "Why?"

Lee looked to Fred and George and they shrugged. "No reason."

Why bother telling her that she looked ready to poke someone's eye out with her wand.

Hope's mood had greatly improved by the afternoon when she was walking out of lunch with Hermione and Daphne to a very familiar "Hello, dearest."

Hope positively brightened at the sight of Thanatos, albeit in robes that a wizard would wear in the stead of the dark toga that suited him best.

"Grandfather!" she said, throwing her arms around his neck as he stooped down to her height, wrapping his arms around her back and swinging her in a circle that made her laugh despite the cold leeching into her skin from his merest touch.

Hermione and Daphne opted to make themselves scarce.

"Is this a friendly visit or is there more cryptic advice for me?" Hope asked, grinning, and the answering laugh wasn't Thanatos'.

A woman stepped out of his shadow with red hair to her shoulders nowhere near as gingery as the Weasleys, with dancing blue eyes, and a mothering smile that clashed with the sword at her hip and the dagger at her thigh.

"Dearest," Thanatos said again, this time very careful, as he lowered her to the ground. "I'd like you to meet someone…this is Thalia Blackwood, she's descended from my son Antioch."

Hope froze, looking at the woman. The last she'd been aware of her closest living family member had been Tom Riddle, before he'd killed her parents and tried to kill her before his death.

"You're—" she started faintly and Thalia smiled.

"Your very distant cousin?" she presumed. "Yes. It's very nice to meet you, Hope."

*Chapter 12*: A Family Found

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Twelve: A Family Found

AN: Aw, looks like you lot are enjoying the Blackwoods, don't worry, there'll be more of them in this fic than Looking Beyond :)

I don't know how it happened, but Thanatos has been getting a lot of love. Obviously, I like him or I wouldn't write him into the fic so much, but I'm glad you all do, too.

And an explanation about the Blackwoods: They're OCs, since I created them, they're part of a massive family tree of the Slytherin family that I posted on tumblr awhile back, but they aren't from another series (barring that they had a small part in Looking Beyond).

There are no immediate plans to make the girls Animagi; they'd probably think it's a lot of effort that can be spent working on other things

Hope looked from Thalia Blackwood to Thanatos, incomprehension clear as day on her face. "I don't understand," she said slowly, green eyes darting between them, "I thought Antioch didn't have any children to continue his line."

Then she looked to Thanatos in accusation. "You never told me I had more family."

She didn't think she'd ever seen the god look so uncomfortable, and the woman –Thalia– arched an eyebrow in amusement at the response.

"I thought it was best, given how you reacted the last time you discovered there was another Slytherin," Thanatos said as delicately as he could manage.

Hope rested her hands on her hips, scowling at him for good measure. "The last Slytherin descendant I was aware of was the one who killed my parents and gave me this!" She jabbed a finger towards the scar on her forehead as if anyone could have forgotten it with in standing out starkly against her skin.

"I like her," Thalia laughed and Thanatos tossed her an expression that was vaguely petulant. "I'm guessing you have a rather extensive family tree?"

"Very," Hope admitted, crossing her arms as she considered the woman. "And you're definitely not on it."

"Well, Antioch Peverell had a relationship with a woman named Atalanta from Greece, my ancestor," Thalia explained as best as she could. "They weren't married and he certainly died rather soon after she discovered she was with child."

Hope frowned. "How'd you get the Blackwood name?" she asked curiously. "I thought that was just Damian Blackwood, Nelda's husband."

Thalia gave a sheepish smile at that. "Well, Atalanta's son technically had Blackwood blood and she didn't use a name, so she gave him that name."

"Just because?" Hope's lips twitched.

"Well, it is a nice name," Thalia laughed, "but I might be a bit biased."

The woman standing before her wasn't quite what Hope had been expecting though she didn't exactly have much to compare to; Hope hadn't met anyone that closely related to her on the Potters side (though she had found out that Daphne was the great-granddaughter of the sister of her great-grandmother, so they were slightly related).

"I should leave," Thanatos said a bit flatly and both Hope and Thalia looked at him in surprise, having briefly forgotten that he was standing there. "I am a god, and I have souls to collect."

"We're not keeping you," Thalia remarked in amusement and he gave her a distinct frown that had Hope stifling her sniggers behind her hand.

"I am very seriously regretting introducing you two to one another," Thanatos gave one last grumble before the shadows expanded around them and he became one with them, vanishing like smoke.

"I don't suppose you have any classes immediately to be getting to?" Thalia prompted Hope, capitalizing on Thanatos' absence.

"Not for about an hour," Hope said, checking her watch with a frown, "Charms."

"Good," Thalia gave her smile that made Hope stop and blink, because it was the kind of motherly smile that Daphne and Hermione's mothers wore when speaking with their daughters or their daughters friends and Hope wasn't all that accustomed to having it turned in her direction, "it gives us time to talk."

Hope's eyebrows drew together briefly but she still hummed in agreement, unknowingly lightening her dark hair just slightly to a dark auburn, nearly Thanatos' hair colour, but not quite. She didn't doubt Thanatos' word, the god wasn't the type to lie about something like family, but she also didn't know this woman, Thalia Blackwood.

They walked in silence for a few moments, several students passing them by, giving the pair a few odd looks that Hope was sure were mostly directed towards Thalia because she wasn't one of the adults that worked in the castle and was unfamiliar to them.

"Did you know my father?" Hope asked her, lifting her gaze when they took one of the moving staircases, waiting for it to slide into place so they could step off onto the ground floor, making their way towards the viaduct courtyard.

"No," Thalia said regretfully, "I'm sorry, I didn't. The Blackwood family tends to stay in Greece, but we were aware of our sister relations to the Potter and Gaunt families. I don't think your father knew I or my sister, Aglaia, existed."

"You have a sister?" Hope asked her with interest and Thalia's lips thinned into a line, her jaw tightening briefly.

"Not for several years," she sighed. "She was an Auror that was killed in an explosion a few years before my son was born."

"Oh," Hope tripped over one of the steps as they moved towards a stone bench in the unpopulated viaduct courtyard. "I'm sorry."

Thalia gave her a soft smile. "Well, our family has always been one steeped in tragedy."

Hope's lips twisted, but she didn't bother to deny the truth because she'd read the account of the deaths of Damian Blackwood, Morea Slytherin, and Nelda Slytherin. Tragedy lied in the very bones of their family, but it made Hope feel a bit warm to be able to say 'their family' because it had always been just her.

"But tell me about yourself," Thalia invited, "Thanatos isn't very talkative."

A snort escaped Hope's lips before she could stop it and then she cleared her throat. "After my parents were killed I was put with my mother's sister's family—" Hope made a painstaking effort to distance herself from the word 'aunt' and it was something that didn't slip by Thalia. "I didn't like them, they didn't like me, so we were kind of stuck. I didn't know about magic until I realized I could change my looks without really trying and then I started looking up things about magic, that's when Grandfather showed up and sort of pushed me in the direction."

Eyebrows rose high on Thalia's forehead. "That doesn't necessarily sound like it would end well."

Hope gave a half-shrug. "It ended all right," she acquiesced. "I left the Dursleys place in the middle of the night and cab to Wales. I'm living at Potter Manor now with an old friend of my dad's, so it's practically paradise compared to what I had before."

Thalia, who had started in surprise when Hope had mentioned living at Potter Manor, relaxed a bit to discover that someone was living with.

"I'm really into Earth Magick, though," Hope added and that made Thalia smile.

"The Ancient Arts aren't that common anymore…but I'm sure that most of them are illegal up here…"

The expression on Hope's face soured abruptly. "Because a government that lets Death Eaters walk free is the kind of thing that should be making decisions on magicks they've never seen in action."

Thalia gave her a wide grin. "So you're the stubborn type, are you? That's good, it's practically a requirement for Slytherins."

Hope fiddled with the strap of her bag where it was looped around her arm from when they'd both sat down. "What about you? Your family lives in Greece?"

"Yes," Thalia's eyes glittered fondly. "My son and daughter, Galen and I think you met Agathe?"

"She was very cheerful," Hope shook her head with a snort.

"Yes, she can be like that," Thalia laughed. "We live in a city called Lamia. Aggie's around your age, she's still in school at Athene Academy, but Galen's graduating in December, a bit later than usual, he'll be fifteen by then."

Hope couldn't help but be impressed. She'd read about the different schools of magic around the world, but Athene Academy had always been considered a bit controversial with how young the students started school and how young they started work.

"I realize that you don't know me or my children very well," Thalia added, "but we are family and I'd like to…bridge the gap, so to speak."

"The last family I knew gave me a room in the cupboard under the stairs and called that a kindness," Hope said wryly, "trust me, whatever you do is a step up from them no matter what."

"I'm sorry, what?" Thalia couldn't help but ask bleakly in disbelief, hardly daring to believe the words that had left Hope's lips, but Hope was distracted by the sight of Daphne and Hermione hovering at the large doors, gesturing for her to hurry up.

"Sorry, I've got to get to class," she said with a sheepish smile, "but maybe I could owl you?"

Though she was still a bit thrown by Hope's previous admission, Thalia still was in enough control of her mouth to tell Hope that she'd look forward to it.

"Who was that?" Hermione asked when Hope came striding towards them, her hair darkening to her typical black once more.

"A distant relative," Hope said lightly as they started the climb up the stairs to the Charms classroom.

"How distant?" Daphne asked, throwing a scrutinizing glance over her shoulder even though they'd long since passed out of sight of the older witch.

"She's the descendant of Antioch Peverell who was the brother of Ignotus Peverell, who's my ancestor," Hope ticked off the relations on her fingers.

"What was her name?" Hermione asked curiously, and a bit dubiously.

"Thalia Blackwood."

Daphne arched an eyebrow, impressed. "Are you related to every old family there is?"

Hope gave a half-hearted shrug with an easy smirk. "What can I say? My family's special like that."

"Have you found Vela yet?"

It was very early in the morning but Astronomy class was still going on and George found himself sitting next to Hope as she calmly charted her constellations. One of her eyes was squinted shut while the other one was focusing through the telescope, her lips twitching into a smirk.

"What's the matter, Weasley? Having trouble?"

George scrutinized her thoughtfully, trying to figure out if she was trying to goad him, which, knowing her, she was. "Stars were never my strongest suit."

"Skip it and go to the next one," Hope advised, but that didn't help either because he couldn't really make out anything.

He grumbled under his breath for a few moments and it was only then that Hope spoke again.

"Maybe your lenses aren't clean," she suggested and George blinked before checking them to find, a bit sheepishly, that she was right.

He gave a polite cough. "Never mind," George said, his ears pink, "I've got it covered."

Hope stifled her laughter but he still caught a glimpse of her lips curling into a grin, and then they descended into silence once again until Hope's attention was drawn away by her friends comparing their mapping of Aquarius.

"How do you know so much about stars?" George asked her once he'd plotted two constellations.

"I like mythology," Hope said, turning her head towards him and her eyes were pale in the darkness, almost silver like the stars above them, "a lot of constellations have to do with mythology…and the sky's really open where I live."

"That's it?"

Hope rolled her eyes. "Shouldn't you be doing something, Weasley? Like plotting your constellations or trying to convince me to tell you what our retaliation prank is going to be?"

That caught George's attention. "Would you really tell me?" he asked eagerly.

"No," Hope said blandly, laughing when he positively deflated, "but you're always welcome to try."

He could hear Daphne's tell-tale sniggers and the sound of Hermione stifling her giggles on Hope's other side and he gave her a petulant pout that didn't faze her in the slightest.

Remus had to wonder if something was wrong when Hope dropped by the manor unexpectedly via Mindy, giving him a bright smile as she did so.

"Hi, Remus! I'm not going to be here long," she informed him as she pulled off her school cloak, still dressed in her school uniform, her green and silver tie swinging with each movement.

"Is something wrong?" Remus asked in surprise, but Hope was certainly in a better mood than her letters or mirror-calls implied.

"I'm just checking the family tree," Hope hummed making her way towards the ballroom where she'd pasted the cloth with the names of her distant relatives what seemed so long ago. "Apparently I've got some cousins left."

"The Potter family is related to several different families, that's not really that surprising," Remus remarked, following after her, leaning heavily on his cane, as the full moon was approaching in the next two days. "I'm sure you have a lot of cousins."

"These ones are descended from one of the Peverell brothers," Hope hummed, her shoes clicking on the floor as she entered the brightly lit room to where the tapestry was spread across the wall. It was rather extensive, but that had mostly to do with the Potter side of things than the Peverell and Hope followed the line from Salazar Slytherin and Morea Avis that led down to Nelda Slytherin and then to Sylvester Slytherin all the way to Adeliade Peverell's three sons, but where it had been previously blank next to Antioch Peverell's name there were new names that followed.

A line connected his name to a single one: Atalanta before drawing downwards towards a new name, Achilles Blackwood, just like Thalia had said. And if Hope followed the lines to the most recent generation there was Thalia Blackwood in looping thread connecting to someone named Nileas Ganis and then to their two children, Galen and Agathe.

"Thalia Blackwood came to see me at school, with Grandfather," Hope admitted, "we talked, it was nice."

Really, Remus wasn't sure what to say to that, given that conversing with strangers wasn't exactly a preferable course of action, but if Thanatos vouched for the woman in question…well, there wasn't really any reason to consider for the god to lie about that, that and the tapestry was enchanted and not easily hoodwinked.

"Her daughter was the girl I ran into when we were out shopping at Corinth Crossroads," Hope added.

"Ah," Remus said. "You like her better than the Dursleys with barely knowing her for, what, less than a few hours?"

Hope gave him a dry look. "It doesn't take much for me to like someone better than the Dursleys."

And Remus couldn't help but laugh, though he still held a bit unease about the girl who was his pseudo-niece having a conversation with someone she hardly knew.

But it was Hope's life and if Thanatos vouched for her, who was he to disagree?

After a week with no sign of Hope and her friends retaliating, Fred and George were noticeably edgy, and it was all their fault! What kind of person waited this long to do a revenge prank?

Or maybe that was the prank?

"Maybe they aren't going to do a prank?" Lee Jordan suggested to his friends after laughing when they both jumped at his sudden appearance in Transfiguration class, which was due to start in a few minutes and said girls were sitting on the opposite side of the aisle, two rows back. Hope and Hermione were arguing about something in the book that they clearly didn't agree on ("It says right here that the wording is key!" Hermione could be heard insisting and jabbing her finger at the book while Hope scoffed, "I'm telling you it's intent! If wording was true then there wouldn't be any way to do nonverbal spells and Remus and Mindy do those all the time!"), but Daphne caught their eyes and smirked before giving them a wink.

"Nah," Fred decided, "they're up to something, I can feel it."

But they didn't have the chance to agree before Professor McGonagall arrived, calling her class to order and taking roll before crossing her arms and surveying them all with beady eyes.

"Today you will be learning about Animagi in a purely written lesson."

There were a few groans at that; written only lessons were fully note-taking classes and therefore more likely to fall asleep in, but Hope's eyes gleamed at the subject, seeing as her father had been an Animagus when he was alive.

She spun her quill around between her fingers before dipping it into her inkwell of blue ink. The professors were pretty lax about ink colour on assignments and notes other than exams –where it was required to use black– but students still tended to gravitate towards ink colours that went with their houses, hence why Hermione's notes were done in red and Daphne's green, but Hope liked the blue the best.

"Now, an Animagi is a witch or wizard who can transform themselves into an animal at will. This is a skill that can only be learned, not inherited. Having a parent as one, in this case, does not pass their skill along to you and it does not make the path to becoming an Animagus any easier," Professor McGonagall began and then the only sound that could be heard was the scratching of quills on parchment.

"The process to becoming an Animagus is considered, by some, to simply be too arduous to perform without proper supervision, thus the Ministry monitors those making any attempt to do so." She paused when Alicia's hand shot up into the air. "Yes, Spinnet?"

"Do you know anyone who's become an Animagus, Professor?" she asked eagerly and Professor McGonagall's lips twitched just slightly.

"There is one I can think of," she remarked dryly, turning towards the desk and Hope's eyebrows disappeared into the dark fringe on her forehead when her form drew downwards, shrinking and shrinking until the cloak became fur and the grey eyes became yellow and distinctly cat-like, fitting the feline that leapt up onto the front in order for them all to see her better.

Hope wasn't the only one that came out of her seat in awe. Their professor had transformed into a silver tabby with markings around the eyes not unlike the spectacles she wore.

She leapt off the desk and became a human once more, the transition almost instantaneous, eyes glinting slightly as the students returned to their seats and readied for the next round of notes.

"Animagi can only transform into one animal," Professor McGonagall continued, "and that animal is different and particular to each person that wishes to become an Animagus."

Hope's hand shot into the air and she pointed to the Slytherin. "Potter?"

"Do you only find out what animal you are when you complete the process or is there a way to find out sooner?" Hope asked, trying to imagine a younger version of her father transforming for the first time and then freaking out once he'd realized he'd become a stag; she allowed herself a private smile at the thought.

"There is a way to find out before hand," Professor McGonagall conceded, "it involves a series of potions and incantations and also holding a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month—"

There were several noises of disgust at that; mandrake leaves had a tendency to leave a nasty taste in the mouth.

"Usually practitioners avoid that process if they can help it and just end up being surprised with what animal they end up transforming into."

"Personally, I'd avoid the mandrake leaf," Daphne muttered to Hope and the green-eyed witch couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe if you were dedicated enough you might try it," Hope whispered back and Hermione had to stifled her amusement behind her hand.

"This is an incredibly advanced technique and I would advise that if any of you wanted to try your hand at becoming an Animagus, at least make sure you are properly supervised," Professor McGonagall stressed once more.

"Each Animagus bears an identifying mark that are recorded when registered with the Ministry as a way to differentiate them and an ordinary animal of the same species," she lectured. "The mark is rather simple, for me you might have noticed that the tabby bore markings around her eyes where my spectacles are, but they can be something like a darker or lighter patch on their animal's body, and scarring or loss of a limb. If you have lost a finger in your human form it's likely that your animal form will be missing something similar, such part of their paw or claw or damage to a hoof, to name a few examples. Now, who can give me a suggestion for why someone would want to become an Animagus?"

Several hands went up and various scenarios rang through the room.

Hope wasn't exactly prone to headaches until she'd come to Hogwarts; personally, she was blaming Slytherin house for most of it because she honestly couldn't imagine a house more aggravating.

She prided herself on having the traits Slytherin house was known for: ambition, resourcefulness, cunning. But it was easier when you actually had the blood of Salazar Slytherin running through your veins.

She was proud to be a Slytherin, but Slytherin house was something entirely different. It was like the reflection of the worst possible side of Salazar Slytherin. It was true that he had been wary of admitting Muggle-born children into the school, but with how his younger brother and parents were killed by Muggles, that view wasn't surprising. The aligning with the Dark Arts, though, that had been more of his son Adrian's forte than his, though in his journal he had admitted to studying them for research's sake.

The older students were so proud of the Dark Arts that their families were involved in that it made Hope's insides coil in on themselves.

It was like walking carefully around mines whenever she or Daphne were in the common room and it couldn't have been made plainer that Hope as the person who had supposedly killed the Dark Lord (which was frankly dubious at best, because in what world was a baby strong enough to kill anything other than flies they managed to catch in their fat fists?) was the least welcome there.

Hope had wondered no less than three times if she should bother dropping the bomb about being related to Salazar Slytherin, because she wasn't exactly hiding it, but, at the same time she wasn't making it very obvious. Everyone that was at the gala at the Ministry knew the name she'd identified herself with, and it hadn't been Potter.

But no one had even mentioned it…maybe they all thought she was lying?

Well, that wasn't her problem; they could believe whatever they wanted, regardless of whether or not it was the truth.

Hope twisted in her bed, trying to go back to sleep, but she just couldn't. The nightmares she had involving flashes of green light and high-pitched laughter were growing more and more prevalent and Hope was honestly considering going to Madam Pomfrey for something that could help her sleep because this was frankly exhausting.

She laid on her back and stared at the canopy above her with its boring single colour, contemplating marking it with stars at least to just make it interesting before pulling herself into a sitting position and checking the time on her watch and stifling a groan.

It was almost six in the morning, so there wasn't really any reason to be awake, much less wanting to get up and do anything as it was a Saturday. But here she was, not able to sleep hardly at all, so she opened her curtains, peeking around to make sure that no one was awake, but all the other curtains were drawn shut around the other beds, keeping their slumbering occupants from view.

So Hope tip-toed around her bed to unlatch the trunk and pull out some casual wear that Mindy always had a clucked her tongue at –she was old-fashioned that way– and make her way slowly down to the baths to freshen up.

She reappeared several minutes later wearing comfortable jeans and plaid top, pulling on the boots Mindy had once gifted her as quietly as possibly before scrawling a note to Daphne on the bedside table and grabbing her broom and the messenger bag she kept her Earth Magick things in as she made her way silently out of the dorm.

Hope hadn't been flying in awhile, not since she'd come to Hogwarts, that had sort have been on the back burner so to speak. And Hope missed flying even though she hadn't done all that much of it to begin with. There was something freeing about being up there without anyone to tell you what to do or anything like that.

It was pure freedom, and that was what Hope loved.

The wall melted away to allow her to leave the common room and she darted down the hallway to take the first staircase she saw. The castle was still a bit of a maze, but at least it was a bit more manageable now, as long as Hope stuck to familiar routes she couldn't get too lost. But if she did, Michael the Suit of Armour showed up rather quickly to escort her, though she hadn't caught sight of Salazar Slytherin in his younger form since the initial sighting.

The sun had barely risen when Hope made her way through the door that led out to the quad courtyard. She would have gone to the viaduct courtyard –she liked that one better– but the door to this one was more likely to be unlocked in the early morning.

Hope's stomach gave a pitiful moan as Hope stood in the silent courtyard, throwing one leg over her broom and mounting it, her bag swinging painfully against her leg as she did so and Hope couldn't help but feel a bit petulant. Breakfast wasn't out until at least another hour and Hope still didn't know where the kitchens were located (she knew the twins knew, but she wasn't going to ask them, was she?).

"Mindy," she called, her voice echoing loudly in the silence and a resounding crack answered her summons and a moment later Mindy was standing there, giving her mistress a polite bow.

"Mistress Hope," Mindy said simply in that squeaking voice of hers.

"I could do with an apple," Hope said, nearly laughing at the exasperation that warped Mindy's face as she vanished and returned once more with one red and gleaming and Hope took it.

"Is that all, Mistress?" Mindy asked just this side of wry.

"Yes, thank you," Hope grinned as the house-elf disappeared, shoving the apple into her bag and kicking off into the air, rising higher and higher before high-tailing away from the castle.

Hogwarts Castle was located in the Highlands of Scotland so there was a great deal of long sprawling greenery as far as the eye could see, stretching up into mountains when you got far enough.

Hope grinned as the wind whipped her face as the castle grew smaller and smaller until it vanished completely, leaving Hope to pull her broom closer and closer to the deep blue water, the toes of her boots skimming across the surface.

She flew for a short while, not long enough for the sun to rise very much, but enough for her to find a rocky island amidst the sea of blue, seemingly untouched and uninhabited, but given its small size, that was unsurprising.

Hope pulled herself off the broom to survey the relatively small island. It was private and small, but on it things grew and that was good enough in her book. It was difficult to practice Earth Magick at the school because a great deal of it involved drawing magic and power from the environment and shut away in a castle wasn't exactly helpful in that manner.

The soles of her boots scratched against the rocks as she began a short trek up to its highest point to rest her back against the thickest tree trunk she could find, propping herself up against it and pulling out her apple and book, reading silently:

Imbalance within the user creates an imbalance within their spells. Every magic user has the potential to feel their magic within themselves, but few remember how to do so, as it requires a great deal of focus and most magic users care more about the result of their casting than the effort it takes to reach those ends—

"Fascinating read," an unfamiliar voice commented beside Hope and Hope, knowing she had arrived on a relatively uninhabited island –barring, of course, the various birds flitting above and the small animals tucked away into burrows–, unleashed a startled scream, recoiling away from the speaker and flinging the book at them and trying to grab up her wand all at once.

"You're a bit jumpy," the owner of the voice remarked, arching a dark eyebrow and Hope found herself staring at the very same boy that had kept her from being caught out of bed after hours weeks ago, staring at the youthful face of Salazar Slytherin.

His dark robes were simple, betraying no hint of the colour green that he was so often aligned with, with his hair black and pooling over his shoulders like ink and green eyes several shades off from Hope's own colour.

And Hope's eyes drew positively wide. "You!" she gasped, gaping at him, which only served to amuse him as he knelt to pick up the book where she had thrown it and Hope couldn't help but stare as he managed it fine despite being dead for several centuries. That definitely ruled him out as a ghost.

"Me," Salazar Slytherin agreed, green eyes glinting as he smirked. "Hello, Elpis."

Hope's grip tightened over her wand. "What are you?" she demanded.

He flicked through the pages of the book on Earth Magick with vague interest and a fond smile, tracing a finger lightly over the words that had been so carefully etched in ink. "What do you think I am?" he asked instead, not looking up.

Hope's brain took a few moments to function, still startled that she was miles away from Hogwarts and speaking to a younger version of the Hogwarts founder to whom she was a descendant of. Then she focused on him.

There was nothing remotely ghostly about him. It was as if he was a normal boy enrolled in fifth year that had forgotten his indentifying tie. She frowned, focusing on the book cradled in his hands, gently as if holding something sacred and revered, but it was the writings of Morea Avis, his wife, so it would make sense that he'd feel that way about it.

But there was something off about the cover.

Hope pulled herself upright and stalked over to where he was standing, a scowl marring her lips as she yanked the book out of his hands with a "Give me that!"

He held up his hands in surrender when she took the book off him, examining the cover intently, because where he'd touched was now a pale shadow in the shape of a handprint.

She frowned looking from the shadow to the boy standing at her side, clearly waiting for her to come to a decision about what exactly he was.

And it was the shadow that caught her memory the most, though it had been from a few months ago at least, back when she'd been reading through some of her mother's old books.

Then looked towards him in surprise and Salazar rubbed his hands together like an excited little boy that she knew he had long since passed.

"You're a spectre," she realized, trying to recall a passage within one of her mother's old books, "you can maintain a solid form for a short amount of time."

He grinned widely, vibrating with a kind of manic energy that couldn't be bottled up. "Well done," Salazar said.

"But they rarely stick around for centuries after their death like ghosts do," Hope insisted to counter him."

"What can I say?" Salazar said simply. "Spectres aren't afraid of death, and neither am I."

"But I saw you in the school and now you're here," Hope said flummoxed, gesturing around her to the high reaching trees and the craggy rocks, and then she became flustered. "Have you been watching me?" Her voice rose a few pitches and Daphne would have made fun of the sound if she were there.

"Not nearly as much as you think," Salazar assured her, though clearly amused by her response, "it takes effort to keep a physical form, though…" He drifted off in a conceding manner before continuing, "I haven't spent much time with a physical form so it's not nearly as much effort on my part."

That did nothing to help Hope's nerves, that was for sure and she pressed her book against her chest as if to shield her in some way from him and that didn't escape his notice.

"But no," he informed her wryly, "I haven't been watching you; I have other things to do with my time."

"You're dead," Hope pointed out, bluntly and just slightly without tact.

Salazar arched an eyebrow before a laugh escaped his lips, deep and echoing loudly in the early morning silence that was only broken by the twittering of birds high up in the trees. "Yes, it does seem that way, doesn't it?" he hummed in agreement.

Hope's shoulders sagged in exasperation that she almost missed how he moved forward carefully until he was standing in front of her, raising a hand to tap a few fingers lightly against the old leather-bounder book she still had clutched in her tight grip.

"I see you have a deep interest in the Ancient Arts," he mentioned and Hope couldn't help but think he just wanted to drift away from the previous conversation concerning what he did as a spectre.

And Hope scrutinized him still. Perhaps she'd gotten far too used to the pictures that portrayed him as a bitter old man with a long and thin beard that it made it harder to equate this younger version with the man that was made into something terrifying by the majority of Hogwarts. But there was something softer about him, like the image she'd seen of him with the other Founders, so young and full of ambition .

They were remarkably similar in that aspect, she noticed.

"Earth Magick, mostly," Hope acquiesced, considering taking a step back but changing her mind at the last second in favour of shifting her weight from one foot to the next. "But yes."

"That's good," Salazar's lips curled as she loosened her grip on the book at hand it back to him once more. "So few choose to learn them, but, then again, few are healthy to learn."

"You mean some drive you mad?" Hope countered, thinking of the account of Adrian Slytherin's dead and how it had come about.

"Yes, that," Salazar agreed, eyes still focused downwards, flicking the book open to the first page and tracing over his wife's signature with a light smile. "Of course, there are many kinds ancient magicks that the world has forgotten, and this book?" He tapped on it again for emphasis. "It barely scratches the surfaces. It's only the first in a series."

"Where's the rest?" Hope asked, flummoxed.

"I think I've quite forgotten," Salazar said, his smile turning a bit embarrassed, "I'm only a spectre, after all, only what I deemed important is what remains jangling about in this dusty old head of mine."

Hope arched an eyebrow despite how disappointed she couldn't help but feel. "Are you offering to teach me the Ancient Arts?" she probed, eyes lightening to hazel.

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" he mused thoughtfully, smiling widely. "Do you want to learn?"

"Absolutely," Hope said without a second thought.

"Did she say where she was going?"

"Just that she was going flying," Daphne replied with a shrug, spooning some Sheppard's pie onto her plate. She was already earning a few glances because she was the only Slytherin at the table, but Daphne didn't deign any of those looks with a response.

Hermione pursed her lips, a bit anxious, playing with her goblet of pumpkin juice, only to look up in relief a moment later when a familiar form appeared at the Great Hall doors, taking a few steps towards the Slytherin table only to turn towards the Gryffindor table to find Daphne and Hermione sitting there, not too far from where the Weasley twins were positioned.

The Gryffindor brunette opened her mouth to call her name when Hope pressed a finger to her lips, eyes glinting malevolently as she crept forward towards the boys were, putting her head in the space between theirs and uttering a sharp "Boo!"

It was amusing how both pranksters yelped and twisted around, making their friends laugh, but reducing Daphne to howls and Hermione to hiding her giggles behind her hand.

"You! Potter!"

Hope held up her hands in surrender while Fred jabbed his finger towards her aggressively. "A little jumpy, Weasley?" Hope asked lightly while George pressed a hand to his forehead.

"For Merlin's sake, woman!" George gasped. "Some of us have hearts that need to function!"

"Oh, Weasley," Hope said slyly, looping an arm around his neck that could have looked like a strangle-hold from a certain angle, and that was probably the reason George froze, "are you claiming I don't have a heart?"

"No," George back-pedalled. "You just don't seem to have any regard for mine."

Hope laughed and stepped back, moving towards her friends, plopping herself down beside Hermione, and now that she was close enough to them, they could see things that weren't noticeable at a distance.

There was a smudge of ash on her cheek and the tips of her thumb and forefinger of her left hand were slightly burned.

Hermione's eyebrow furrowed. "Have you been playing with fire?" she asked, taking note of the differences.

"Something like that," Hope said, pulling a plate towards her and loading it with the very same Sheppard's Pie.

"Where'd you go?" Daphne asked curiously.

"Well, there's this little island out on the sea, which I didn't really realize was there until I found it and then I thought 'this is a great place to practice Earth Magick'," Hope said and Daphne's eyebrows rose high on her forehead and Hermione choked on her food.

"You were practicing Earth Magick? What if something went wrong?" Hermione's brown eyes were big and concerned. The thing about being Hope Potter's friend was that you learned that Hope did what she wanted concerning ancient branches of magic, especially Earth Magick –she was head over heels in love with Earth Magick and she'd barely started learning it– and the best thing to do was make sure she didn't damage herself too much.

"I had help," Hope said brightly.

"Who?" Daphne asked with suspicion and Hermione with surprise; Earth Magick wasn't exactly a commonly practiced art.

"Salazar Slytherin." Hope's eyes gleamed.

There was a moment of silence while both Hermione and Daphne stared at her, neither comprehending a word she was saying.

"Er, what?" Hermione stuttered.

"You haven't learned Necromancy in the past hour, have you?" Daphne questioned dubiously. "Because that would be really impressive."

Hope glowered. "Don't be ridiculous, he's got a spectre wandering around."

"Ooh!" An excited glint took over Hermione's eyes at that, and she leaned forward with interest. "A real spectre? There haven't been any recorded sightings in the past hundred years!"

"I have no idea what either of you are talking about…which isn't really normal for me…" Daphne said looking from one girl to the other.

"They're like ghosts that can maintain solid form from time to time," Hermione explained, her eyes still wide and on Hope. "It's really Salazar Slytherin?"

"More like fifteen year old Salazar Slytherin with old Salazar Slytherin's experience," Hope waved a hand carelessly. "And his wife could use Earth Magick, which is unbelievably amazing." She was practically moaning at the prospect of all that she could learn from him.

"You're an idiot," Daphne said.

"Or obsessed," Hermione offered, taking another drink of her juice. "How did you end up burning yourself?"

"Earth Magick is very hands on and I was trying to put out some candles that were being very uncooperative," Hope said airily.

"Something wrong with blowing out candles?" Daphne asked wryly.

"You have a candle in there?" Hermione demanded dubiously, jabbing a finger at the bag sitting beside Hope on the bench.

"There's this thing about how Earth Magick finds power in everything you do and everything you're around," Hope said, pulling out a remarkably thick candle deep purple in colour and setting it on the table with an audible thunk. "Early beliefs were that blowing out a candle is actually offensive to the gods, and it's kind of wasteful because you're using magical energy to blow out a simple candle instead of using wet fingertips or some kind of snuffer…there's a whole page on it."

"On candles?" Daphne was dubious.

"Yeah." Hope reached into her bag to pull out the leather-bound book, flicking a few pages in until she held a candle-illustrated page to Daphne and Hermione leaned forward to read across the table, skimming the page's contents.

"There are spells that require a candle?" Hermione asked.

"Not ones for beginners, but there was this one simple spell that Salazar had me try to light a candle with just my finger." Hope held up one slightly burned finger proudly.

"You literally did a spell months ago that was like holding a ball of fire, Hope," Daphne said dryly.

To which Hope replied something rather unsavoury in Greek that made the blonde laugh and Hermione roll her eyes.

The prank was a thing of brilliance, if Hope had to say so herself, and the inspiration had come from Hermione, so Hope got the feeling that she and Daphne were rubbing off on her.

A wind-up duck that had been an old toy that Hermione hadn't touched in years had somehow found its way into her trunk. The item itself was fascinating to Daphne, who'd never seen one before, but Hope didn't find it too interesting, though she'd never really played with those kind of toys when she was younger, if she'd had any at all.

"I thought maybe you'd use it for some kind of prank," Hermione had suggested while Daphne twisted the knob to make the duck's little feet move. "Maybe a noisemaker or something like that?"

"Hermione, you are brilliant," Daphne had said and Hermione had flushed with pleasure.

And really it was, because they'd stretched the stalemate of their instigated prank war with Fred and George out almost a whole week more and Hope didn't think she'd seen the twins quite so antsy.

History of Magic class was when the chaos truly began.

Hope, being the one sitting on the end of the table that day that was the closest to where the Weasley twins were, being two rows in front of them, was the one designated to unleash the prank on them.

Personally, Hope didn't mind, she loved one-upping the twins and pranks were definitely her weapon of choice. So while Professor Binns was endlessly droning on about Goblin wars, Hope was winding the adapted duck's knob as far as it could go, glancing every so often towards where the twins were sitting with Lee Jordan. Thankfully, all three were nearly asleep, which was perfect for Hope, Hermione, and Daphne because it would make the prank all the more startling.

Hope smirked to herself, bending closer to the table little by little so as not to arouse suspicion, but that wasn't too difficult when most of the class was already asleep.

She placed the duck on the ground and it barely squeaked as it made its way across the floor until it came to a stop right beside Fred Weasley and there was an ominous moment of silence.

Then there was a sudden loud blaring sound similar to a loud horn and everyone who'd been falling asleep or had fallen asleep jerked awake startled, becoming even more so when the little duck emitted a large cloud of black smoke that was actually an unintended side-effect that Hope, Hermione, and Daphne weren't really sure what to do with.

Fred had actually fallen out of his seat, Lee's head collided painfully against the wall, and George yelped. Hope wished she had taken a picture because it was so beautiful to see.

Daphne had to bury her head in her arms to silence her laughter, Hermione was much better composed, but she was still pink in the face from trying not laugh, while Hope was openly smirking.

It only took a few minutes for things to calm down, but Professor Binns hardly seemed to notice, though, given the things that happened under his nose, that wasn't all that surprising.

The twins were gazing at the three in outrage and Hope's smirk widened as she focused her attention downwards on the passage in the book that Professor Binns, feigning interest in the lesson.

"Er, this is for you," Hermione said when the lesson was over, holding out the chess piece to twins and George took it from her a bit grudgingly.

"I thought the pranks were more of your friends' thing," Fred remarked, scrutinizing their fellow Gryffindor and Hermione gave a slight shrug.

"Well, Hope and Daphne have this way of getting under your skin." She smiled. "And pranks can be interesting when they're, you know, elaborate."

George arched an eyebrow. Hermione was the best in their year; no one would believe that she was helping with pranks, but it did take a certain level of skill in order to create something like what they had used during class.

"Going to tell us how you made this one?" he asked, holding the spent wind-up duck gently in his hand, and Hermione took it gingerly, wary of it falling apart in her grasp.

"I don't think so," she said with a smile before turning and leaving them to rejoin her friends.

Letters became commonplace for Hope. If she needed to know something or talk to Remus right then, of course, she could use her mirror, but Hope preferred letters. And letters passed back and forth from Hope and Remus and from Hope and the Blackwoods.

In the weeks following Hope's initial conversation with Thalia, Hope had found herself with a number of letters from the Blackwoods with introductions from the two children that were her cousins as much, if not more, as Dudley had been.

But Hope found she liked the Blackwoods far better than the Dursleys. The younger one, Agathe –Aggie, she'd insisted in one of the letters– was in her fifth year of schooling at Athene Academy, despite her young age, because that was the reason Athene Academy was so controversial, and she had a love for Ancient Runes and was planning on being a Rune Analyst once she graduated. She was also, apparently, very skilled with the bow and loved the application of Earth Magick so much that she was insisting that Hope find a way to copy Morea Avis' book so she could read up on it.

Galen, on the other hand, was going to be an Auror when he graduated. The first few letters he'd appeared to reserve his judgment on her, which Hope could understand, she wasn't someone they knew, after all, but after a few more letters, he seemed consider her to be a bit more trustworthy. She'd learned that he had a serious girlfriend named Dianthe who was already out of school, working as a Potioneer. In contrast with his sister, he was skilled in the use of a sword and Hope was starting to wish Hogwarts had extracurriculars like that.

She'd learned that when Galen and Agathe were younger, their father had vanished, just up and walked out on them. She'd learned that neither could imagine living somewhere other than Greece. She'd learned that Galen had postponed his schooling for two years to intern at the Greek Isles' Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Auror division because he wanted to skip the training that was required after completion of schooling. She'd learned that Thalia was a veteran of a war that had cost her her sister and she hadn't gone back to the Aurors until both her children were old enough to not need her to be around constantly.

The Blackwoods were very interesting at the least and Hope was looking forward to meeting her other cousins officially.

Fred didn't think he'd honestly seen Hope good to honest mad, generally the most he'd seen her was irritated or aggravated, and usually towards members of her own house, but that was not the case on October 31. He came down the main staircase a few minutes earlier than George to see Hope with a glare on her face wearing a black dress with dark tights and a cloak looped over her arms.

She looked ready to attend a funeral.

"Excuse me?" she snarled, eyes flashed a deep, dark red as she glared venomously at Marcus Flint. "I should celebrate the day my parents were murdered? Are you completely mental?"

Flint grinned malevolently before making his way into the Great Hall, leaving Fred to descend the last few steps.

"Creep," Hope muttered under her breath.

"You all right?" Fred asked her and Hope jolted in surprise, clearly not having noticed his approach.

"Fine," she said before giving a shudder, "I just really hate Halloween."

"House-mates giving you a hard time?" Fred presumed. At least he didn't have to live in the same dormitory as people who clearly thought more of You-Know-Who than the girl that had caused his downfall.

"Well, I've never been anyone's favourite," Hope said stiffly before checking her watch with a sigh. "He's late, he's not usually late."

"My apologies," came a tired voice, "it took longer to pull myself out of bed than usual."

Fred found himself lifting his eyes from Hope to the speaker, a man with grey streaked brown hair and rather prominent scars on his face with a few scratches that were red against his skin, but his pale green eyes glittered as he met Hope's eyes and the girl positively relaxed.

"Remus, I hate Halloween," Hope informed the man sullenly, pulling her cloak around her shoulders.

"As do I," the man, Remus, said, "ready to go to Godric's Hollow?"

"We need flowers," Hope pointed out as she looped her arm through his and looked back to Fred. "See you around, Weasley."

"Greengrass, where's Potter?" Professor Snape asked once he'd gotten through the roll call.

Daphne paused in grabbing her potion's book and Hermione's eyes flicked towards her. "Sir?"

"Potter," her name curled oddly off his tongue, "is she sick?"

Daphne's lips thinned into a line. "I certainly would be if someone told me I should be celebrating my parents' murder."

There was a flash of something in his eyes, but Daphne couldn't make out what it quite was.

"Greengrass," he said shortly, "where exactly is your housemate?"

"Probably in Godric's Hollow cemetery, sir," Daphne said without blinking and Hermione grimaced, glad she hadn't been called on for an explanation, because she'd probably been docked points for saying the same thing.

Hope did exactly nothing on Halloween and she really hated that holiday, if you could call it that. Hermione wasn't surprised she'd had Remus pick her up and take her away for the day.

The graveyard had been cold and Hope and Remus hadn't ended up staying long, mostly because there was a lot of foot traffic in Godric's Hallow because of what had happened that night years ago, but those types of people tended to stick to where Hope's parents' house was left in its ruined state.

But even then there weren't many people memorializing Hope's parents, like they'd virtually forgotten the lives that had been paid for their freedom.

Hope's fingers rubbed circles into her brow, her head throbbing as she sat on the end of the couch before the fire, staring into the flames as she willed her headache away.

"Mistress?" came Mindy's soft voice as she set down the tray of tea and biscuits on the table beside the couch, her big eyes concerned. "Would Mistress like some tea?"

"Does it have a headache potion in it?" Hope said blandly.

"Yes," Mindy said simply and Hope's lips curled slightly.

"All right, then," she said, taking the teacup of Jasmine tea, shaking her head towards the biscuit tin that her house-elf offered her. "No thank you, I'm not hungry."

"Mistress must eat something," Mindy insisted, "Mistress hasn't eaten all day!"

"I'm not hungry," Hope said again, this time with a bit more emphasis and Mindy kept her eyes level with Hope's before relenting with a sigh and taking the tray away.

Hope sipped her tea and it only took a few moments to ease her headache.

"So, how's school going?" Remus asked as he dropped into the armchair close to the fire.

Hope thought it was a poor choice of small talk, seeing as she told him a great deal about what was happening at school, but she didn't point that out. "It's all right," she said. "Don't like Potions, don't like Defense Against the Dark Arts, I've got top marks in Ancient Runes, oh, and a spectre is teaching me how to use Earth Magick."

Remus' brow furrowed. He had so many questions, but for now he'd just have to settle for one. "A spectre?" he remarked dubiously.

"Salazar Slytherin's," Hope agreed, taking another sip of her tea, appearing not to notice the befuddled expression warping Remus' scarred face.

"You're having lessons with a long-dead Hogwarts Founder?" he finally managed to say after forcing his tongue to function.

"It's very interesting," Hope hummed, taking another sip of her tea. "What about you? The full moon was a few days ago…why didn't you have Mindy fix up your injuries?"

She could see bruises and cuts without much difficulty, it wasn't as though he was hiding them. And she frowned further when he gave her a smile.

"You need to stop worrying about me, Hope," Remus said.

"Worrying is a sign of love," Hope said wryly, setting her finished teacup on its saucer on the table beside the couch.

It was times like these that Remus couldn't tell who she was more like: her mother or her father. James had always been rather blunt about Remus taking care of himself, but worrying was always something that was a bit more of Lily's thing.

"I miss the manor," Hope sighed after a long silence, looking around the sitting room forlornly. "Hogwarts is…cold."

"You sleep in the dungeons."

"You know what I mean," Hope muttered, curling her legs up onto the couch and pulling a stray book towards her that she hadn't managed to put away before she'd left, and the rest of the day was spent in a sombre sort of silence.

Hermione was not having a great day. It was weird not having Hope around, but her absence was quickly capitalized on. The members of Slytherin house that had called her names on the first day had backed off considerably after Daphne and Hope had laid into them and it didn't take much for Hermione to tell that most of the Slytherins had only backed off because it was Hope.

And Hermione didn't have thick skin, at least, not like Hope did. There were only so many hissed "Mudblood!"s she could take, people telling her to go back where she came from. Draco Malfoy had a particular distaste for her, but Marcus Flint was worse and Hermione fled after their paths crossed in the hallway.

"I'll curse him for you," Daphne offered in the stall next to Hermione's in the girl's lavatory and Hermione laughed wetly.

Daphne was missing the Halloween feast by staying with her, but her friend didn't appear to care.

"I know," Hermione said, wiping her eyes, "but maybe he's right."

"No, he's not," Daphne said and Hermione could practically see her scowl. "He's just jealous because you're smart and clever and he's dumber than a troll."

Hermione smiled and then her stomach gave an ominous growl and that made Daphne laugh. "Let's go to the feast," she suggested, "we'll even sit at the Gryffindor table, okay?"

"All right," Hermione said, pulling herself upright, wiping the last traces of her tears before unlatching her stall and that was when she realized something rather startling; she and Daphne weren't alone.

It was greater than twelve feet with a bulging belly and large lopsided ears, making vague and deep grunts, and holding a club loosely in one hand.

Hermione swallowed and Daphne let out a squeaked "Oh" beside her. Hermione had never seen a troll before, but if she was a betting girl, she'd think that the creature standing before them had to be a troll.

Both girls darted out of their stalls to the opposite wall as it lifted its cumbersome club above its head and swung it through the stalls, being too slow to follow them from the stalls to where they cowering in the corner, neither knowing any spells powerful enough to subdue a troll.

Hermione screamed and Daphne yelped as wood ripped from the stalls collided with them.

"What the Hades?" demanded a voice and Hermione's eyes flashed to the figure gaping in the doorway at the large troll. Hope was still wearing her coat and dress, but her hair was a dark red and eyes a bright hazel, a contrast from how she'd last appeared to them.

"Tell me you've got some kind of shielding spell that you memorized from that Earth Magick book or an offensive something!" Daphne yelled, confusing the troll as it didn't know what way to stumble. "Because I don't!"

The Shielding Charm was fairly advanced and offensive magic wasn't exactly something their classes focused on.

Hope ran from her spot to collide with Hermione and Daphne who both clutched her and never had Hermione wished more that Hope had an Earth Magick spell.

"I come back and you two are battling a troll," Hope grumbled, "exactly how much have I missed?"

"Hope!" Both girls snapped as the club rose into the air once more.

"Aspída!" Green eyes glowed and hands outstretched and the next thing Hermione and Daphne knew, a blue dome had surrounded them.

AN: So, another chapter done. There wasn't a lot in this chapter to tie into canon, but that's good anyways, because this fic isn't designed to be all that similar to canon.

Salazar Slytherin is my new favorite and I will admit that he'll be sticking around for longer than he did in Looking Beyond, which means a lot of good moments between him and Hope to look forward to.

The thing with the candles is actually based on something I read that had to do with Wicca.

As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

*Chapter 13*: A Hidden Foe

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Thirteen: A Hidden Foe

It was a stupid idea, a very stupid idea, and Hope should have definitely known better. The section on magical defence in her Earth Magick book had several warnings attached to it, but the shielding was the most powerful and in the split second when the troll's club came crashing down on them, it was the only one Hope could remember.

She extended her hands as the wavering blue dome appeared over them, rippling as the club beat down on it from above.

Hermione gave a terrified squeak on one side of her and Daphne tightened her grip on Hope's cloak.

It was like fire was licking at her skin, burning and burning, like her lungs were filled with ash. Hope gave a hacking cough that speckled the broken tiles of the floor with blood.

The shield was so opaque that it was a bit difficult to see beyond it, and what things they could see were a bit blurry. But they could still feel it when the troll fell to the ground, because the ground shook underneath their feet.

It was a lucky thing that the troll had fallen when it had, because the shield spell had drained Hope almost entirely of her energy; no wonder it had been listed under 'advanced magic'. The blue dome surrounding them dropped so suddenly that it startled Hermione and Daphne.

Hope's stomach roiled and she ducked backwards in order to hack up what little she had consumed that day.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded a furious voice as Hope wiped her mouth to turn and see several professors standing in the carnage.

Professor McGonagall was stunned beyond belief, looking from the girls to the troll, and none of the three could tell which one had knocked out the troll or with what, Professor McGonagall, Quirrell, or Snape.

Snape's eyes had flitted towards the deeply cracked indents that Hope's shield had left behind with a keen interest, but Hope was too distracted by her woozy feeling, swaying dangerously on her feet before both her friends managed to steady her.

"What on earth were you thinking?" Professor McGonagall continued. "You're lucky you weren't killed! Why aren't you in your dormitories?"

"I was in Wales most of the day," Hope said blandly, her throat burning, "I only just got back." Then she shut her mouth abruptly, trying to keep down another wave of nausea.

"I was –I was—" Hermione's words failed in the presence of her fearsome Head of House and she didn't know quite how to explain herself.

"We were in here," Daphne said for her, gesturing to Hermione, speaking for her, "we'd been here awhile when the troll showed up."

Snape scrutinized the pair. "And why would the pair of you be in the lavatory when you could be at the Halloween feast?"

Shame flushed Hermione's face and Hope frowned in confusion.

"We weren't hungry," Daphne said flatly, "and Hermione wasn't feeling very well, so I hung out with her in here, and that's when we saw the troll. Hope showed up pretty soon after that, and since none of us know any offensive magic, she used a shielding spell."

There was something off about that statement, and it was something a bit clear to Professor McGonagall that there was something they weren't telling, such as what kind of shielding spell was powerful enough to leave cracks in the floor.

Professor McGonagall considered the three of them, all in a bit of shock and covered in debris (with Hope being the one with the least amount of damage done to her person), and with Hope positively translucent, a smear of blood across her lips that must have come from her previous coughing or vomiting.

She drew herself up to her full height. "Very well," she said. "Miss Potter, five points to Slytherin for your quick thinking. All three of you were very lucky tonight. I believe it would be wise, Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass for you to take your friend up to the hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey to look over."

While she had been speaking, Daphne had found her eyes drifting towards where Snape was standing with a rip in his pant leg with a bloodied bite clearly there. Blue eyes shifted upwards and Snape scowled before sweeping his robes around himself in order to hide the bite from view.

Daphne's brow furrowed as she helped Hermione manoeuvre Hope through the carnage, stepping past the professors with Quirrell being very careful about making sure his skin didn't come into contact with Hope's, but none of the children appeared to notice.

"Where's Michael?" Hope hummed, her eyes mostly shut as her head lolled forward. "He can carry me, you know."

"Yeah, Hope, we know," Hermione muttered as they helped drag their friend in the general direction of the staircase that led up towards the hospital wing. "But I haven't seen any suits of ar—"

"Milady?"

Hermione yelped and Daphne jumped but Hope was a bit too out of it to be startled by the sudden appearance of the suit of armour bearing the Slytherin seal.

"Milady you seem quite ill," Michael said while Hermione tried to gather her wits and Daphne tried to calm her racing heart.

"I need to be carried to the hospital wing, Michael," Hope said blinking owlishly in his direction.

Daphne had to wonder what the owner of the armour's face would have looked like if he still had it, but the armour stooped without reply to hook an arm under her legs and at her back.

"Want us to come with you?" Daphne asked her, still eyeing the suit of armour suspiciously, but Hope shook her head as she was carried away.

"Was it just me or was she kind of…sluggish?" Hermione muttered to Daphne.

Hope was shuffling through her tarot cards as she sat propped up on several pillows in the hospital wing three days later.

"You didn't need to come, I'm fine," she pressed as she threw a glance towards the man sitting at her bedside.

"You have serious blood poisoning from unstable magic use," Remus responded, unimpressed as Hope slipped one card up onto the bed table. The Star, healing of old wounds, inspiration, a mental and physical broadening of horizons, hope and renewal.

Hope arched an eyebrow at the card's meaning before looking over to Remus once more. "It was just a stupid mistake, and I'll be fine in a few days, Madam Pomfrey said so."

"You wouldn't be in here if you hadn't used a very dangerous Earth Magick spell," Remus pointed out, crossing his arms as Hope flipped a second card: Ace of Pentacles, appreciation of the good things in life, physical well being, the essence of the Element of Earth.

"I screwed up," Hope agreed, "but that was because I tried a spell that was way out of my league; it was the only one I could remember, personally, I'll take a few days in the hospital wing to being brained by a club."

Exasperation was clear on his face and when he sighed.

Hope turned her head towards him and smiled.

"Sometimes you really remind me of your father," he said fondly, reaching a hand out to cup one cheek, one warm cheek whose owner was alive under his hand.

"Does that make you sad?" Hope asked, leaning into the touch.

"Not anymore," he said and Hope believed him.

Then there was the echoing sound of annoyed voices debating in the hallways.

"You know that's not the proper use of a silver knife!" Hermione's voice was rather simple to make out, but Daphne's snorted response wasn't.

"If it gets the job done," laughed Fred –or was it George? It was hard to tell when their voices were slightly muffled and she couldn't see who was speaking.

Four people entered into the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey threw a warning glance towards the grouping.

"Hi, Remus," Hermione and Daphne chorused as one before they came around to the opposite side of Hope's bed, sitting on the bed there as there weren't any other seats.

"You're missing a lot of class," Hermione added as she handed over Hope's planner and she thumbed through it with a frown.

"Madam Pomfrey isn't allowing me to even move from this bed, or else she's putting me in St. Mungo's," Hope said dryly.

"Lesser of two evils," George laughed.

"That's debatable," Hope grumbled. Her whole body was a mass of tingly sensations. Madam Pomfrey had her drinking potions almost every hour in order to break down the magic toxicity in her blood. She hadn't seen so much blood poisoning –the result of powerful spells without proper training, so it was rather common, just not to the same level as Hope– in one person from one spell in a long time. The tingling sensation was stronger in her legs and was vaguely uncomfortable if she even slightly moved.

She tapped a finger against Remus' knee, nodding towards the identical twins that were rather new to him. "That's Fred and George Weasley, by the way."

Remus arched an eyebrow. "The ones you're currently in a prank war with?"

"Yeah, that'd be them," Daphne snorted. "They're currently losing."

"Oi!" Fred complained. "We are still planning our retaliation!"

"Mm-hm," Hope hummed. "Sure." Hermione stifled her giggles behind her hand.

"Well, I glad you're making friends," Remus said, a smile curving along his lips and Hope wrinkled her nose for good measure.

"Have to start somewhere," Hope said disparagingly. "The whole of Slytherin House thinks I'm scum."

Fred and George bobbed their heads in agreement, but Daphne threw Hope an outraged look.

"I don't think you're scum."

"We're not counting you," Hope retorted with a grin that had her eyes twinkling.

"I'm going to chalk that up to potions messing with your brain," Daphne decided as Madam Pomfrey stepped out of her office to bring a smoking cup of thick potion over to the tray over Hope's bed.

"Keep your voices down," the matron warned as Hope eyed the potion in an unappetizing manner.

"There's no one else here," George pointed out only to quail at the sight of her stern glare before she turned around and returned back to the office, with a call behind her of: "That potion better be drunk the next time I leave my office, Miss Potter."

Hope looked at potion sullenly. "This is making me actually miss Snape."

"I didn't think that was actually possible." Hermione was grinning and Fred and George didn't even bother to hide their amusement.

Hope muttered something Greek and unsavoury under her breath and Remus wasn't impressed.

"Is that something you should be saying in polite company?" he asked.

"Well, company's a bit informal right now," Hope said decisively before pinching her nose and tipping the potion down her throat. She released her nose after she swallowed, coughing and gasping as it burned all the way down.

"Disgusting," she rasped, gagging. "Pepper-Up Potion tastes better than this."

"What a surprise," Remus said dryly, causing the four around them to erupt into laughter.

"I hate you," Hope decided.

"That does tend to happen."

"That's Remus Lupin, in case it slipped their minds," Daphne added to the boys, "he's the one in charge of Hope on holidays."

"No one's in charge of me!" Hope countered with affront. "I'm in charge of me!"

"Of course, Hope," Remus said absently.

"I'm the one in the hospital wing, so why do I feel like I'm the one being attacked?" Hope's tone had made a turn toward petulant, and she crossed her arms, looking away from them.

"I think I'll leave you to your friends," Remus said, slightly amused by her childish response as he stood and leaned down to press a kiss to her temple.

"Be careful with your magic," he warned.

"I promise," Hope said, rolling her eyes, sparing him a smile. "Tell Mindy I said hi."

Remus laughed before pulling his cloak over his shoulders and making his way out of the room with a nod towards the boys and a smile to the girls.

"You know the school thinks you're in here because the troll beat you up," Fred said, plopping himself down into the vacated seat.

Hope arched an eyebrow. "This school has a problem with rumours."

Well, she wasn't wrong.

Hope flipped the next card over.

Death, the beginning of a new life, transformation and change.

"We should really make our own map," Daphne decided early into November, only the day Hope had been officially cleared to leave the hospital wing.

"Remus says there's a lot of secret passageways," Hope said helpfully as Hermione looked over Remus' step-by-step instructions concerning how to make a map of Hogwarts. "Salazar says the same."

Hermione lifted her eyes from the parchment to frown at them. "Does he only show up when we're not around?"

Hermione and Daphne hadn't actually seen the Slytherin founder, but they had seen Hope bloom a Dittany plant after it had barely been planted. Earth Magick at its most literal; Hope had been rather proud until Daphne pointed out that most of the leaves had turned yellow.

"We are around a lot," Daphne pointed out for good measure, sitting closest to the fire in Morea's Room, the firelight casting a warm glow across her face.

"Early mornings sometimes," Hope shrugged, unconcerned. "He shows up when he shows up. We haven't done a lot of practical stuff lately, just theory, you know, how to use the magic properly. He's trying to get me to take it slow."

"I can understand your fascination with this magick," Salazar had said earlier that week, "but you must keep in mind that this type of magick you're toying with, it has the potential to be very dangerous. There's a reason it's been considered a Dark Art for so long, because its practitioners often misuse it."

"But can't all magic be dangerous?" Hope pointed out.

"Depending on the intent of the caster, yes," Salazar agreed, a slight grimace marring his face. "But Earth Magick is a different kind of magic than the ones you're thinking of. Earth Magick's power comes from the self and the surroundings of the caster." He twisted the silver ring around his finger that Morea had shared when she was alive. "Morea was always at her strongest within the elements, particularly earth, and on the full moon."

"Why the full moon?" Hope's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Morea was very skilled in both offensive and defensive attacks, though she preferred defensive as we grew older," Salazar said, his eyes growing distant briefly before he jerked himself back to reality, "spells can have differing effects under the differing phases of the moon. The full moon was one that coincided with protection."

"He wasn't pleased about me using that shield against the troll," Hope added, "that's probably most of why we're doing more theory now."

Daphne scratched out a sentence on her essay concerning the Shrinking Solution that Snape had assigned. Hope was only halfway through hers, though Hermione had long since completed it.

"Maybe he doesn't like showing up because Hermione's around and he doesn't like Muggle-borns," Daphne theorized out loud and both Hope and Hermione looked at her. "What? It's not like Slytherin isn't known for their prejudice against Muggles."

Hermione chewed on her lip, looking to Hope as the frown deepened on her lips. "You know the witch trials didn't really start until the fifteenth century," Hope said suddenly, "but several witches and wizards were killed in the centuries before then by Muggles."

Daphne and Hermione shared a glance of surprise.

"Salazar's parents and younger brother were killed by Muggles who burned them at the stake for their use of witchcraft," Hope continued. "He only survived because he had been out playing in the field at the time and had hidden in the tall grass when it happened."

"That's awful," Hermione gasped, horrified.

"People always fear what they do not understand," Hope agreed sagely, though the words sounded like someone else's rather than her own, "that's what Grandfather says."

"Yeah, well, he's Death, isn't he?" Daphne grumbled. "I bet he's seen a lot of that since he came into being."

"Probably."

"So, Salazar Slytherin was worried about what would happen if Muggle-borns were allowed to go to school here?" Hermione asked curiously. "Or was it just because of what happened to his family?"

"I'm not really sure," Hope reached over to her bag where it was resting on the floor, pulling out the thin journal embossed with the Slytherin family crest. "Most of what's in here is stuff that happened before Hogwarts was completed, back when he and Godric were duelling buddies, when he was trying to win Morea's hand, then there's nothing for a few years until his daughter and son are born, Nelda and Adrian, and then nothing again until Nelda's of age, running off to captain the Siren…"

"The Siren?" Daphne asked dubiously. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's a ship," Hope said, unconcerned, "built from the Forest of Morea around the Slytherin Castle, a place that he called Pithos."

"A ship?" Hermione repeated. "Like a pirate ship?"

"Pretty much," Hope grinned. "That'd be cool to see, don't you think?"

"You're so weird," Daphne snorted.

Only Hope would be filled with the desire to rediscover a long-since-disappeared pirate ship that once belonged to her ancestor.

And just like that they'd forgotten about the core question concerning Salazar's views of Muggle-borns.

Hope had a detention that lasted for three hours for skiving off classes on Halloween, something that annoyed her, but if she'd just told Snape (which was unlikely) or one of the other professors, then she wouldn't be in this situation.

Hope was a bit sour about it, but she still showed up at the right time at the greenhouses. She actually liked the greenhouses, but a lot of the plants they were learning about weren't really much of interest to her. The potions she'd read about in her book on Earth Magick were more herbal in nature than outrightly magical, and that had been by design. Growing a plant with magic was all that was needed in order to use it in spells.

"Hello?" she called cautiously as she entered Greenhouse Two, but there wasn't anyone inside it.

A soft huff left her lips as she stepped carefully inside, dropping her bag close to the door as moved to look around at the various plants. She'd never been in Greenhouse Two, as it was mostly kept for first and second years; Hope, Hermione, and Daphne spent more time in Greenhouse Three as third years.

She trailed through the greenhouse with interest. The plants here didn't seem to be all that dangerous, and Hope did recognize a few of them.

The Aconite's petals were deep blue and flourishing where they'd been potted. Hope reached out to brush her fingers against those petals, only to jerk back at Professor Sprout's kindly voice.

"Ah," the stout witch remarked, "I see you've already arrived."

She twisted around to see the Herbology professor with a smudge of dirt on her cheek and a smile that made her eyes glitter.

"I hope you don't mind getting your hands dirty, Miss Potter."

"I don't mind," Hope assured her before glancing around the greenhouse with a bit of curiosity, "but, er, what exactly am I doing?"

"Repotting some plants for the most part," Professor Sprout said before directing her to take off her dark robes and Hope shrugged them off, bunching them into her bag. "We'll stick with plants least likely to attack you."

She cast a knowing glance towards Hope and Hope couldn't help but feel like her professor had picked up on her distaste towards the more dangerous plants.

Hope rolled up her sleeves and took off her tie to keep it from dragging in the earth and then Professor Sprout set her up in front of a pot of coarse earth with a trowel to break it up.

She dug her trowel in, twisting and adding a bit of water to moisten and soften it further.

For the most part, they worked in silence, and honestly Hope didn't have a problem with that. She didn't even realize how long they'd been going before Professor Sprout began to show her proper repotting.

"Now you don't want to have too many plants in a pot of this size," Professor Sprout warned her, "or the plants' roots won't have enough room to spread."

Hope nodded her head in understanding. "Can these plants only grow in greenhouses?" she asked.

"Oh, no!" Professor Sprout laughed. "You can grow them indoors or outdoors just as long as you remember that some plants can't handle anything less than a controlled environment."

"Which is why you keep them in a greenhouse," Hope presumed and Professor Sprout clucked her tongue in agreement.

"Have a bit of interest in Herbology outside of the magical sense?" the older witch inquired a bit knowingly and Hope turned faintly pink.

"Well, not entirely outside of the magical sense," Hope admitted, "it's more of a different branch of magic that involves more herbs and spices that are used in potions like the ones we learn about in class."

Professor Sprout hummed in intrigue. "More like Herbalism than Herbology, I'm guessing."

Hope furrowed her brow slightly. "I suppose." She couldn't really contemplate the difference; to her, Herbology was everything and anything that involved plant-life. She didn't really try to differentiate between Earth Magick and everything else. "It's not less magical, but a lot of the herbs aren't usually used in normal potions."

"It sounds interesting," Professor Sprout smiled. "Do you like it?"

"A lot," Hope conceded, "but a lot of people don't…my guardian's worried that the magic is a bit dangerous."

"And what do you think?" Professor Sprout's bushy eyebrows quirked.

Hope pursed her lips as she potted a plant with a lot of vines. "I think a lot of things are dangerous if you try hard enough."

"That is a surprising view," Professor Sprout said, "but not entirely incorrect."

Hope shrugged. "I make a habit of not doing what people expect."

Dumbledore had certainly had an idea about what he'd expected her to be, and, though she didn't want to admit it, so had Remus, the only difference was that Remus was accepting of who she was, even if it was very different than how he remembered James and Lily to be. But that was all right, because Hope was her own person, she was Hope Potter, not just the daughter of James and Lily Potter.

"Good gracious," Professor Sprout said, her words startled a moment later as she checked the watch bound to her wrist. "You've been here an extra hour!"

Hope checked the light beyond the greenhouse, surprised to note that the last of the day's sunlight could barely be seen, setting on the horizon. She'd only been supposed to spend three hours in detention, but it looked rather like it was well over four hours by now. The time had flown; Hope had barely even noticed it...she was dangerously close to curfew now.

"You'd better run along back to your dormitory Miss Potter before you're out of bounds."

So Hope gathered up her things and left quickly; Snape wouldn't be nearly so understanding if he caught her out after hours.

Hope lay awake late into the night, Morea's dagger in her hand and one of the stones from her family's vault in the other. Bloodstone had many meanings, but it was one of the best mediums for blood runes, so here she was, in the dead of night, carving a protection rune into the surface of the stone while her wand was lit and tucked behind her ear.

Too much stress on the stone would cause it to break in her hand, but all Hope had to do was carve enough into the stone that the symbol was obvious.

Hope blew some stone dust from the stone itself, swiping it off with a hand before lifting up her thumb to press the tip of the dagger against her skin and push in until a bead of blood appeared.

It pricked a bit, but Hope was expecting it, so it wasn't too terrible.

She let the droplets of blood fall into the grooves she'd carved, and a moment later the stone glowed faintly and Hope sucked on her thumb tasting blood as she placed the stone, her wand, and the dagger at her bedside, not noticing how the stone pulsated faintly with red colour before fading.

The weather grew colder, the air crisper, as they entered November, and Hope was starting to get the feeling that the month was rather unlucky.

Daphne thought it was just Hope that was unlucky.

"Maybe you committed some terrible crimes in your previous?" Daphne contemplated as she and Hermione kept their friend from tripping over a balcony for the third time since November had begun.

"Maybe she's just clumsy," Hermione, ever rational, retorted rolling her eyes.

"But I'm not this clumsy," Hope insisted, pulling her arms free of her friends in order to round the corner and running head long into George Weasley's chest.

"Dammit, Weasley!"

"What?"

She jabbed a finger towards the twin in question, opening her mouth to say something that could've been construed as rather crass, but Daphne and Hermione stalled her by forcing their hands over her mouth.

"Don't mind her," Hermione assured the flummoxed Gryffindor. "She's having a bit of a bad day."

Fred arched a brow at his twin's side, taking note of Hope's glower towards her friends. "Are you lot coming down to see the match?" he asked instead.

The first Quidditch match of the season was Gryffindor versus Slytherin and it would be commencing in a matter of hours, hence why both brothers were wearing their bright red and gold Quidditch robes with their brooms hooked over one shoulder.

Personally, Hope and Daphne would be rooting for Gryffindor since they were still at odds with Slytherin, though, privately both thought that view was unlikely to change unless the house as a whole became less bigoted (but what were the chances of that?).

"That's the plan," Daphne said, before glancing to the side where they were still keeping Hope's mouth firmly shut, "if Hope doesn't trip her way over another balcony."

Hope glared and crossed her arms for emphasis, but gagged as she was, it wasn't quite as impressive as it could've been.

"See you later," Hermione added, dragging Hope and Daphne past them, leaving the pair a bit bemused.

"You ever think they're up to something?" Fred asked George.

"They're always up to something," George snorted before they made their way down.

"Being clumsy is making you really short-tempered," Hermione mentioned when they were on their own, she and Daphne removing their hands from over her mouth.

"I keep telling you that I'm not clumsy!" Hope insisted.

"I'm still going to go with you did something terrible in your past life." Daphne's mind couldn't be changed. "Maybe treason, maybe murder…they seem kind of like your forte."

Hope and Hermione stared at her blankly in incomprehension.

"Well," Hope cleared her throat, "I'm not entirely sure what to do with that assessment."

Hermione would've voiced an opinion as well, if not for the fact that Snape had come into earshot and all three fell abruptly silent as he moved past them, casting an oddly calculating glance towards them and once he passed them, Daphne's eyes trailed after him, focusing on the one leg he was dragging slightly.

"That explains the blood," she mused thoughtfully out loud.

"What blood?" Hermione asked as she and Hope ducked back to look, but they saw no hint of blood even as Snape's form stretched too far away to make out anything remotely like blood.

"He's limping," Daphne pointed out, "and his leg was bloody when he showed up with the other professors to deal with the troll, didn't you notice?"

"I was kind of out of it," Hope pointed out, "and I think Hermione was trying to keep herself from having a panic attack."

"We were attacked by a troll!" Hermione's voice rose in pitch. "Of course I was panicked!"

"Yeah, but think about it," Daphne pressed, pulling her friends to a stop, "a troll's a great distraction, all the professors would've come running to deal with the troll—"

"That room!" Hermione said suddenly, her eyes wide. "The one on the third corridor with the three-headed dog!"

"What about it?" Hope asked, remembering Hermione's accidental adventure in the dead of night.

"It was standing on a trap door," Hermione added. "No one would put a dog like that in a school with children if it wasn't there for a purpose."

Daphne's eyes drifted off thoughtfully and Hope's brow furrowed, but neither contested the argument.

The stands were full of excitement and noise, but Hope had never really been a sports kind of person. Still, she'd never really seen what Quidditch was, so she figured she might as well go and see what all the fuss was about.

Daphne and Hope stood out as green-garbed in a sea of red, but they didn't mind too terribly; the Gryffindors were much more excited than the Slytherins who were more cocky that would win like they had the past seven years.

The fourteen players gathered around in an oval were at the centre of the field, with Madam Hooch, the flying instructor and referee, in the middle.

There was silence throughout the stadium until Madam Hooch brought her whistle to release a sharp blast, tossing the Quaffle up into the air to be snatched immediately by a figure in red.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor –what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—"

"JORDAN!"

Hope knew she wasn't the only one laughing at Lee Jordan's commentary, even if Professor McGonagall wasn't too pleased. She was sure that the professor was there to monitor the third year, but Lee didn't seem to mind too much; it didn't stop him from commentating how he pleased.

"Sorry, Professor," Lee said, not sounding sorry at all. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve –back to Johnson and– no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle—"

Hope watched with her lip curling in distaste as the Marcus Flint snagged the Quaffle; she really didn't like him.

"Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes –Flint flying like an eagle up there– he's going to sc—"

Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor keeper blocked the shot and Hope cheered with the rest of Gryffindor house.

"—no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood," Lee reported gleefully, "and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle –that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and –OUCH– that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger—"

Hope winced as Katie Bell pitched forward slightly at the force of the hit, but it must not have been too debilitating, because she was flying around within a minute.

"–Quaffle taken by the Slytherins –that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger– sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which–"

Hope laughed with her friends at that, but Lee wasn't wrong; Fred and George were impossible to differentiate in the air.

"—nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway," Lee conceded, "and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes –she's really flying– dodges a speeding Bludger—"

The Bludger spun away, rocketing close to the crowd before shooting back into the air, but not before banging against the stands underneath where Hope and her friends were standing and cheering.

"—the goal posts are ahead 149 –come on, now, Angelina– Keeper Bletchley dives –misses– GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

The Gryffindor section burst into cheers not unlike a bomb going off, and though Hope was cheering with the rest of them, she wasn't nearly as enthusiastic, but the dismay from the Slytherins was amusing to hear.

The Gryffindor Seeker, Patricia Stimpson, didn't have much to do, but neither did the Slytherin Seeker, Terence Higgs, though Higgs wasn't known for being particularly bright (it was a wonder he'd lasted as long as he did).

Hope could have sworn that she felt the stands beneath her feet, but she didn't think the previous Bludger had done that much damage.

One of the Weasley twins beat back a Bludger aimed at one of the Chasers, aiming it towards Marcus Flint as best as he could.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee continued, his voice blaring around the stadium. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the –wait a moment– was that the Snitch?"

Something had caused Seeker Higgs and Stimpson to duck into a dive, but Hope didn't have much time to think about it, because the stands beneath her feet buckled and several people screamed as it took the front part of the section down with it. Hope's grip on the rail became painfully tight as her heart raced in her chest, luckily, they didn't drop very far, but that didn't really stop the screams.

"Past life," Daphne muttered, her arms wrapped completely around the rail, her face completely bloodless, with Hermione clenching her arms tightly around her friend's waist.

"I'm going to kill you," Hope promised, her knuckles white on the bar.

"There seems to have been some kind of collapse in the Gryffindor stands, it looks like the professors are going to investigate…"

Sure, the collapse of the stands where Hope was standing was a bit circumspect, but it was only a moment later when Hope considered the possibility that someone might actually be trying to kill her, because a Bludger appeared above them and shot down.

Someone screamed –several someones, actually–, it might've been Hope, too, but none of them needed to worry, because even though it had implicitly aimed at Hope, when it had come a bit too close for comfort, it collided with an unseen barrier that flared a transparent red, and it bounced away out of the hole it had just come through.

There were angry roars overhead.

"Flint tries his hand at blocking the Gryffindor Seeker, but Stimpson swerves and she's neck-to-neck with Higgs in a dive! Higgs pulls up but –ouch!"

The wince was fairly audible.

"Gryffindor Seeker Stimpson gets ploughed! But –wait! Is that the Snitch?"

Cheers erupted above them from the Gryffindor section above them as the group in the broken section several feet below were left in confusion.

"I don't believe it!" Lee cheered. "Seeker Stimpson managed to catch the Snitch before she ploughed into the ground! That's one hundred and eighty points to eighty for Gryffindor!"

And sure, Hope was happy for Gryffindor, and especially happy about them wiping the floor with Slytherin, but they were kind of in a precarious situation.

"How about we just skip the next Quidditch match," Hermione muttered.

And Hope and Daphne couldn't help but bob their heads in agreement.

"I didn't think there'd ever be a day where I'd be struggling to come up with a prank," Fred grumbled at the table in the Gryffindor common room where they were supposed to be writing a Charms essay but were stuck on their retaliation prank against the girls.

"They're actually good at this," George agreed, "which is the problem."

"Maybe you just needed someone to inspire you," Angelina snorted as she flipped through Witch Weekly, her essay already done and only sitting there in order to offer suggestions to theirs while she waited for Alicia to get back to the common room.

They both looked at her funny.

"What? You can't deny it," she said flatly, dark eyes flitting from one boy to the other before pushing back a stray dreadlock with a hand. "We all know you're cooking up ideas for that dream prank shop of yours and you were coming up dry with ideas until they did that prank against you after the whole hair-colour-change incident, and look at you now."

George's brow furrowed. He hadn't really considered that before. Of course, they'd been a bit low on inspiration, but that happened from time to time and it wasn't too concerning. But Hope, Daphne, and Hermione (that last one was still the most surprising of the three; Hermione seemed like too much of a goody two shoes to prank anyone, but she'd surprised them) had gotten their creative juices flowing.

"Maybe we should call a truce?" he suggested and Fred lifted his head from where he'd thumped it against the table.

"What? Why?" he demanded.

"Because they've got a lot of great ideas," George pointed out, "five heads are better than two, you know."

Fred pursed his lips thoughtfully, but he couldn't deny the idea had merit; it was better to be partners than adversaries. And all of the girls' ideas were pretty great, barring the fact that they were a bit unwilling to reveal their secrets.

"All right, fine," Fred sighed, "it might be a good idea to do a truce."

Preferably before things got a bit out of hand, especially since at the rate things were going at, they were only going to continuously escalate.

Fred would've preferred to get the last word in, but he'd also like the instructions for each of the pranks they'd committed against them.

"Look there's Hermione," George pointed out as the small third year stepped through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. Her bag was bulging with books and there was a quill tucked behind her ear.

"Where d'you think she and the other two go when they're not in classes?" Angelina wondered aloud as she considered the twelve year old witch.

Both twins shrugged as one before George called out to her, "Hey, Hermione, c'mere a mo'."

Hermione looked over to them in surprise and then her eyes considered them with curiosity. "If this is about a prank, I don't know anything."

Lee, who'd had to run down to the library to grab a book for an essay, laughed as he walked past her to plop himself down in the empty seat at the table his friends were sitting at.

George snorted. "How d'you feel about helping us with a ceasefire?" he asked and Hermione's eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

"Really?" she couldn't help but ask in surprise. "You're admitting defeat?"

Fred's expression soured and George wrinkled his nose. "Conceding that both our groups are evenly matched," Fred corrected. "So? Any ideas for a ceasefire?"

Hermione smiled.

Hope frowned at the bloodstone that had cracked since that disaster at the Quidditch match.

"One use only?" she muttered in aggravation. "That's very helpful."

Though, it was probably the thing that had kept her from getting brained by that Bludger, so she couldn't really complain; having to spend more time than usual in the hospital wing wasn't exactly on her to-do list.

She shoved the cracked bloodstone back into her pocket with a huff, flicking her long thick plait over one shoulder.

Hermione had said that Fred and George were planning a ceasefire and that had honestly surprised Hope a bit, and Daphne had toyed with the idea that the ceasefire was itself a prank, but Hermione was certain it was genuine.

Hope pursed her lips in thought. The twins were more into fun than anything else, and she was sure that if it was a prank instead of a ceasefire, it would at least be good natured.

Daphne and Hermione were already in the Great Hall and Hope was only running late because she'd wanted to put some finishing touches on her essay for Charms class before breakfast, which, retrospectively, she could've done the previous night, if she wasn't reading through her Earth Magick book, but she knew which one she preferred.

Hope stepped into the Great Hall and drew short at the sight of it. The Great Hall's ceiling normally reflected the weather outside, but today was the exception. Instead there were thousands upon thousands of stars twinkling above them, a glittering and glowing green.

Aesthetically, it could have been construed as pleasing to the eye, particularly if your favourite colour was green, but Hope's favourite colour was blue most days.

But when she saw the green shining lights, all she could think about was her nightmares with that high pitched laughing and the flash of green that she now knew to be the light from the Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse that had taken her parents from her.

And all the blood bled from Hope's face and she left the Hall quickly before someone could give her a reason to stay. She didn't even notice the startled expressions on the faces of her friends and the Weasley twins.

She didn't force herself to come to a stop until she'd reached the viaduct, leaning heavily against the stone.

It seemed so stupid to her, to freak out about glittering green stars, but, at the same time, they reminded her far too much of the gleam of the Avada Kedavra from her nightmares.

The first Hogsmeade visit happened the Saturday the week of the ceasefire fiasco, and since Hope, Daphne, and Hermione were all third years, they were permitted to go to the village since they all had their slips signed.

Hope was a little anxious about it because she was meeting the Blackwoods at the Three Broomsticks, and even though she'd met Thalia once before, the same couldn't be said about her children, Galen and Agathe (though she'd spoken a few words to her).

She wasn't quite avoiding the Weasley twins, but she wasn't really seeking them out either, still a bit irritated about the botched ceasefire. It would've been fine if the stars had been blue…but green?She shivered.

"We can come with you," Hermione offered, taking note of Hope's shiver as she kept her hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat. Her dark hair was in a crown braid and there were a green scarf bound tightly around her throat because it was getting colder and Scotland was rather famous for its cold winters, making Hope glad that she was going home to Wales for Christmas; it was still cold, but she was less likely to suffer from frostbite. "If, you know, you want us to?"

Daphne was tightly bundled; she had a problem with cold. But she bobbed her head in agreement.

"I'll be fine," Hope promised, "besides, it's more of a family thing…and didn't you two want to get a look at Honeydukes?"

Hermione's eyes gleamed at the thought. She hadn't had an awful lot of Wizarding sweets and her parents hadn't wanted her to eat too much Muggle candies either, being dentists, so she was very eager to see what Honeydukes had in store.

"Don't forget about Zonko's," Daphne added, her words slightly muffled, "I want to see if I can use some of their items on Astoria over the holiday."

All three shared a laugh at that, though before parting ways, agreeing to meet up in an hour, before Hope pulled on the door into The Three Broomsticks and opened it.

She'd only been there once, when Remus had taken her, and it had been nowhere near as packed. The lights cast a soft glow over the patrons of the pub, illuminating the hustle and bustle of the people, talking and eating, and making odd noises in the case of the hags in the corner. The clientele was rather widespread and Hope was sure she saw a vampire, but she could've just been imagining it.

It was much warmer in the pub and inn than it was outside, for which she was grateful, pulling the scarf from her neck and looping her coat over her arm as she peered out over the masses.

Thalia and Agathe both had red hair, and the colour helped Hope in her search for them until she caught sight of a small family in one of the smaller booths, clearly made for no more than four people (unless there was an expansion charm for more, but Hope couldn't really tell).

Thalia's red hair was cropped to her shoulders, but her daughter's was long and bound into twin braids, and the son was a contrast with the mother and daughter in that his hair was dark and so were his eyes.

Hope had written more letters since the term started than she'd been expecting to, but she hadn't really been expecting to find out that there were more people related to Thanatos than herself. Remus got a lot of letters from her, but she had sent a few out to Thalia as well.

Their relation might not be as close as others (like her and Daphne, or even, her and Draco, as much as she loathed to admit it), but all the other descendants of Thanatos were dead and even a drop of godly blood meant something between their families.

"Hope, over here!"

Aggie had jumped up, recognizing her picture from the one she'd sent the Blackwoods in response to the one she'd received.

Hope liked Aggie a lot, and they had a lot of similar interests in runes and Earth Magick which Aggie had expressed an interest in looking into.

Earth Magick was considered one of the more ancient and powerful magicks in Greece, not nearly as frowned upon as it was in Britain, lumped in with the Dark Arts as it was. Greece was one of the first places where Earth Magick was first used (perhaps even the first, but documentation that far back was a bit spotty) before wand magic came into being.

Galen, on the other hand, was a bit more reserved, studying to be a part of the Magical Greek Isles' Auror department, like his mother before him. And Hope couldn't tell if he didn't like her or if he was still coming up with his own view on her.

None of the Blackwoods brought up the missing member of their family unit, so Hope thought it was best to keep away from the subject as well.

Hope smiled as she made her way forward, even though Aggie's exuberant call had directed some patrons attention towards her and how her hair was styled didn't particularly hide the scar on her forehead, but she was still slightly thrown by Aggie's swift hug when she reached their table and she stumbled slightly, bringing her hands up automatically to wind around Aggie's back.

"It's so nice to meet you in person!"

Aggie's eyes gleamed as she bounced on her feet once she'd released Hope from the hug, before adding, "Well, I mean, there was that time at Corinth Crossroads, but we didn't have enough time to really talk!"

Hope couldn't help but laugh as the Greek witch who was only a few months younger than her babbled. "You're more talkative in person than in writing," she cheeked and Thalia smiled while Galen released a sharp snort as his sister pouted slightly.

"It's what she's good at," Galen smirked and Aggie cast an unamused expression towards her brother.

"It's nice to meet you," he added with a slight smile, scooting out of the booth to stand and Hope wasn't sure if he wanted to shake her hand or hug, so she waited for him to make the first move.

But he gave her a one-armed hug that Hope wasn't expecting it.

"Nice to meet you too," Hope smiled before glancing to Thalia who had kept her silence.

"We've only got an hour, I'm afraid," the older witch apologized, "then we have to get back home."

"That's fine," Hope assured her.

The idea of family was still a new and overwhelming concept to Hope and she thought maybe small doses would be a good way to start.

"Hey!" Daphne and Hermione were bright-cheeked from the cold when they entered The Three Broomsticks to find Hope waiting for them and saving them a seat at the booth the Blackwoods had just vacated. "How'd it go?"

"I think it went well," Hope laughed as they sidled into the booth, sitting down with audible sighs. Daphne's bag was bigger than Hermione's, but Hermione had less pocket-change to spend. "Galen and Aggie are really nice and Thalia's great…what about you two?"

Daphne moaned as she slumped in her seat. "Oh, Hecate, Zonko's was amazing! There are so many things I can use on Stori! Christmas holiday is going to be great!"

"But you have to come and see Honeydukes!" Hermione insisted. "There's so many sweets! They've got the usual, you know, with those Pumpkin Pasties and Chocolate Frogs, but then they've got things like Candyfloss, Pepper Imps, and Acid Pops!"

Hope never thought she'd live to see the day when Hermione was raving about sweets. "Do they have any Cauldron Cakes or anything with peppermint?"

Hermione and Daphne bobbed their heads quickly.

"You're going," Daphne said firmly, "we're doing this for your best interests."

Hope laughed as the landlady –and sometimes waitress– Rosmerta arrived at their table. She was a pretty sort of witch with glittery green heels and a pad in her hand as she considered them.

"A bit young, aren't you?" she inquired of them.

"We're advanced," Hope grinned widely, "we started third year…you can check with our professors if you want."

But Rosmerta clearly considered that to be too much of a hassle with such a busy crowd.

She chuckled. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Now, what'll you ladies be having for drinks?"

"Butterbeer," Daphne said quickly and Hermione nodded after considering the menu.

"Three Butterbeers," Hope said, "thank you."

"No problem, lovelies," Rosmerta responded easily with a glinting smile. "I'll run back and get your drinks while you decide on your meal, all right?"

As soon as she'd flitted away, they were besieged by two red-haired lads.

"We're really sorry!" the twins said in unison and very fast as if afraid she wouldn't let them get their words out and Hope blinked, her mouth gaping slightly at the pair.

"We asked Hermione and she said that you really liked the stars—" Fred started.

"And she said you liked the colour green, too," George added, "so we kind of mixed them together—"

Hope arched an eyebrow. "Usually my favourite colour is blue, actually."

"Really?" Fred and George weren't the only ones surprised at that.

"What?" Hope demanded in annoyance, looking to Hermione and Daphne who were faintly astounded.

"When was the last time you wore blue, Hope?" Hermione asked dryly.

Hope wrinkled her nose. "Just because I don't wear it all the time doesn't mean it's not my favourite colour."

"It kind of does," Daphne snorted, bringing up a hand and showing her a space between her thumb and forefinger.

Hope glared before turning her attention back to the twins in question. "Just so you know, I still have nightmares about the day my parents died and those light glittering stars were too…" Hope's words trailed off slightly as she tried to come up with the most appropriate word for it, but in the end, her words failed her.

Both boys looked rather ashamed about it that Hope couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

"Don't worry about it," she assured them both, "its fine. You can make it up to me later."

George privately thought she was a bit too easygoing about the whole thing, but if she was willing to mend the bridges they'd accidentally almost broken, then he wouldn't be one to judge.

"Okay," Fred said slowly, looking as confused as George felt, "exactly how're we making it up to you?"

Hope's eyes shifted from their usual green to the blue that was identical to his and George's. "I haven't decided," she said at long last, a smirk forming on her lips.

"You are very devious," George declared with a laugh that he shared with his brother.

"Oh, Weasley," Hope said slyly, "you're just now figuring that out?"

Hope liked flying more when the weather was nicer, but flying in the cold wasn't nearly as bad as she'd initially thought it to be, of course, the cold air to the face was a bit stunning and pulling tears from her eyes if she went too fast.

But flying was too exhilarating to give up, even with how the weather was growing colder by the day as they approached the end of November.

Some days all there was was frost, other days there was a light layer of snow on the ground. Today was a good day for Hope in that it was only frost that she had to worry about.

The strong wind buffeted her and she crested through it, circling back to Hogwarts as the sun broke over the horizon, ready to start a new day.

"Remus is still worried about the Blackwoods," Hope mentioned where she was curled up on the couch close to the fire in Morea's Room, skimming through her pseudo-uncle's most recent letter.

"Well, they did kind of show up out of the blue," Daphne pointed out, chewing on the end of her quill as she contemplated her next sentence in her Transfiguration essay, glancing over the text she had open in front of her, her brow furrowed.

"Grandfather vouches for them," Hope pointed out, "they're the last of his blood, not including me. Descendants of Thanatos should stick together."

"You realize that sounds a little ridiculous, right?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow and Hope frowned at her for good measure.

"Well, I like them," she sulked. "They're just my very distant cousins."

"I'm probably one of your cousins," Daphne snorted and Hope contemplated throwing the book at her head when Salazar's spectre made a sudden appearance.

"Hey," she said with a wide grin, "Daphne and Hermione were starting to think you only hang around when they're not here."

"What—?" Hermione said flummoxed, looking up from their first draft of their map to open her mouth and scream at the sight of Salazar.

Daphne yelped more in response to Hermione's scream than the appearance of the long-dead founder, and Hope couldn't really blame either of them; Salazar was known for being startling.

The wizard considered her friends with vague interest, looking as he always had; with dark robes, pale eyes, and aristocratic features that he grew into.

"That was the general idea, yes," Salazar said, arching an eyebrow, "though finding the time to separate the three of you is a rather impossible task that I've nearly given up on."

Hope's lips curled into a smile. "Hermione Granger, Daphne Greengrass…this is Salazar Slytherin, my ancestor."

Salazar, ever the picture of propriety, stooped into a bow just for them.

"Ladies," he hummed, taking note of how Hermione was using Daphne as a human shield and how Daphne was mouthing wordlessly at him.

"You're –er– younger than I was expecting," Daphne managed to force past her numb lips.

Salazar shrugged one shoulder. "I may appear however I wish; it's an upside to being dead."

"Something to look forward to, I'm sure," Daphne said faintly.

Hope toyed with the idea that her friend might actually faint as Salazar's eyes slid to Hermione.

"Muggle-born, I presume?" he said and Hermione jolted. "Forgive me, but I don't think anyone else would react in such a way to me."

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized quickly, her face somewhere between humiliation and regret, but Salazar waved it away.

"Apologies are not necessary," he assured her, "I'll admit I had a…disposition against Muggles even at the time of my death, though it is unfortunate that such negativity has lasted as long as it has."

"You underestimated blood purity and bigotry," Hope piped up from her spot on the couch.

Salazar inclined his head. "You wouldn't be incorrect, Elpis."

Hope rolled her eyes at the use of her ancestral name behind his back and Hermione had to stifle her giggles with her hands, but Daphne –trying not to look bad in front of her House Founder– simply tried to glue her lips together but her shoulders shook with the effort.

Salazar turned swiftly to look at her and Hope quickly schooled her expression into one of innocence that wouldn't have fooled anyone that knew her far too well, but Daphne and Hermione weren't entirely sure if Salazar had reached that level yet.

"What?" Hope asked. "Did you just pop by to freak out my friends?"

"I had considered it." His lips curled and Hermione wondered if the expression was something Hope had picked up from him, because it was rather spot on, and a bit terrifyingly so. "But, no, I'm here for your lesson."

"We're not doing more reading are we?" Hope asked, a bit put out at the very thought, but Daphne knew better; Hope enjoyed absolutely everything about Earth Magick, even the reading was fascinating to her.

"No, we're not." His eyes glittered slightly. "Tell me, Elpis, how do you feel about mist?"

Hope's brow furrowed. "I guess I don't really mind it; I live in Wales, you know." Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

His smile shifted into a smirk with a single move and Hope had an awful sense of foreboding.

"You think that means anything good?" Hermione murmured to Daphne who was watching the exchange in rapt attention.

"Oh, definitely not."

*Chapter 14*: Snow Fall

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Fourteen: Snow Fall

AN: I kind of feel bad about how much you guys were excited about Hope working with mist (which is not the Mist that is in PJO, just so we're all clear, it's just fog) but it's not really important.

Salazar really likes freaking the Muses out, though.

Shout out to Yulisa for catching the snitch mistake that yours truly made last chapter!

In other news: a minor change his been made to ST that more has to do with chapter one, but Hope's wand wood has been changed to black poplar because the symbolism suits her far more than holly does.

November slipped into December almost unnoticed as the snow fall began to thicken around the school and it grew colder with each passing day.

"Do you think it's less cold in Wales?" Hope muttered through clenched teeth as they marched through the snow.

"Well, you can stay inside all holiday so you don't have to be in the cold," Daphne pointed out, rubbing her mittened-hands together. "Got any specific plans?"

"Remus is a bit wary about the Blackwoods coming over for Christmas for some family stuff," Hope admitted, "but Christmas is for family, you know…I think he needs to meet Thalia and have a discussion."

Hermione stifled her giggles into her scarf.

"What about you guys?"

"Mum and Dad and I are just doing something small," Hermione shrugged, "it's only the three of us."

Her father's sister's family had been estranged for years and that wasn't likely to change anytime soon. Hermione was secretly glad, though, for her father's sake, because he was never happy when she was brought up.

"We're actually going back to Greece for Christmas," Daphne grinned. "'Storia and I haven't seen Nana since the summer. We're going to have a Greek feast."

"Unfair," Hope lamented and Daphne threw back her head to lose her laugh in the wind. "But we should definitely do something over Christmas."

"You mean, like our own celebration?" Hermione asked, quirking an eyebrow as they stepped past the large oaken doors.

"Yeah! We could make the food together!" Hope's eyes brightened.

"I've never cooked a day in my life," Daphne felt the need to point out and both Hermione and Hope stared at her. "What?"

"Cooking's not that hard," Hermione said.

"Unless you burn everything," Hope had to concede and Hermione gave her that. "Don't worry, Mindy can point you in the right direction."

"Thanks for that," Daphne said dryly, almost walking into a dark-skinned Gryffindor their age. "Oh, sorry!"

"No problem," he said before breezing past her, talking with a boy that had a rather thick Irish accent.

"But you've never cooked before?" Hermione pressed.

"Never really had the interest, to be perfectly honest."

Hope rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "So, you're leaving for Greece pretty soon, then?"

"The day after we take the Hogwarts Express back," Daphne agreed. Their Heads of House had already come by to collect the names of people staying over the holiday, and none of them had given their names, as they were all going home for Christmas.

"I bet it's pretty nice in Greece," Hope lamented before twisting on her heel in order to avoid being toppled by Marcus Flint. "Don't you have better things to do with time than trip people?"

The sneer warped his face as he looked down his nose at her. "You're the one in my way, Potter," he said as he moved past her, jostling her once more.

"Prick," Hope muttered. "What are the chances of anyone in Slytherin House liking me anytime soon?"

"Very low." Daphne rolled her eyes. "But Greece is going to be great…maybe over the summer you guys should go and visit."

"I was thinking about it, since we didn't do much before we started class, you know, other than catching up on sleep," Hope admitted and all three shared a look. Skipping year one and two had been probably the most stressful thing any of them had ever done (not counting Hermione taking all of the classes she was taking currently with the aid of her time turner), but it had been worth it in the long run. "My family has an estate in Greece." They probably had more than one, actually, but Hope had really checked.

"Of course they do," Hermione muttered dryly before clearing her throat. "But I'm going to be making a lot of cookies; Christmas is the only time we really get into sweets."

If there were sweets in the house any other time of the year, they were sugar-free, being that Hermione's parents were dentists.

"Ooh!" Hope's eyes brightened to a silvery colour. "Remus, Mindy, and I should make a lot of cookies over break."

Chocolate chip cookies and pies and treacle tarts…Hope's mouth watered at the mere thought of it.

"When was the last time you have homemade cookies?" Hope moaned.

"A while," Daphne and Hermione conceded.

"Gods, I miss Potter Manor," Hope groaned as they sat down at the Slytherin table.

"Hogwarts isn't so bad," Daphne responded, pulling a jug of pumpkin juice towards her in order to pour it into her goblet.

"It's not terrible," Hope admitted, appearing rather put upon and Hermione couldn't silence her giggles. "But Potter Manor is much warmer."

The dungeons of Hogwarts were cold, and the only upside was that the many blankets that they had to use were probably enchanted as well, because they were warm enough to stave off the cold. Hope didn't know how everyone else managed it so well, but maybe it was that they were more used to it.

The issues Hope had with her dorm-mates, barring Daphne, of course, hadn't improved. In fact, the tension between her and Daphne and the rest of the House had remained largely unchanged.

Marcus Flint was a major thorn in her side, but most of the House just settled with sneering at her. Draco Malfoy appeared to be a fan of that method, but Hope could ignore them if she wanted, which she usually did.

At least at Potter Manor Hope didn't have to worry about the whispers or Snape making her miserable, and he was still doing that. It took skill to be subtly insulting and Hope wished she was as developed in that area as he was, but she wasn't.

"And it's got more of my things," Hope admitted.

"Your trunk is magically expanded," Hermione felt the need to point out and Hope waved a hand in her direction, disregarding her words, and the girls descended into laughter.

Albus Dumbledore was meandering through the castle invisible as he sometimes did when he came across the soft hum of conversation from behind the door that he had placed the Mirror of Erised with the Philosopher's Stone within, not yet ready to be moved beneath the trap door on the third floor.

It took a bit of complicated magic in order to get through the door without opening it.

The scene within surprised him.

Hope Potter in lavender-coloured pyjamas and a thick black robe to keep her warm and a young man with dark hair and pale eyes, both inspecting the mirror.

"It's beautiful," Hope murmured, trailing her fingers along its frame where she could reach it. "How long did it take you to make it?"

"More than a fortnight," the boy chuckled.

"Did she finally agree to marry you afterwards?" Hope laughed.

"Well, she was more amenable to the idea," the boy conceded. "Can you imagine why?"

Hope frowned thoughtfully. "Er, well, it's a really nice mirror?"

It was faintly amusing to listen to her like she was now, curious and confused and not the girl who had been so angry in his office near the start of term.

"Elpis," the boy said, extending his hand to her and it took Dumbledore a moment to realize that it was a name, and, even more surprising, was that she responded to it, reaching out her own hand, allowing him to pull her to stand in front of the mirror, forcing her to face it, "tell me what you see."

"I see me at Potter Manor," Hope said in surprise, "I'm older…I'm with Daphne and Hermione and Remus…and Thalia, Galen, and Aggie…I'm different…"

"Different?" the boy prompted.

"I've mastered it," Hope said in awe, "like Morea did…its beautiful."

"She thought so as well," he hummed softly, sounding rather forlorn and Hope smiled, reaching out to take his hand.

"You could move on, you know," she mentioned, "you deserve an eternity together and you've already spent so many centuries here."

"No, not yet," the boy said with a certainty that couldn't help but be admired, "your skill is negligible at best, I won't leave until I think you can handle learning it on your own."

Hope's expression soured. "Thanks for that vote of confidence, Salazar."

The admission of his name was the thing that had stopped Dumbledore cold in his tracks. Salazar…as in Salazar Slytherin?

The young boy's eyes flicked to where Dumbledore was standing invisible and his lips curved into a smirk, pale eyes glittering malevolently. Dumbledore knew in that instant that he'd been aware of Dumbledore's presence from the moment he had arrived.

"So," Hope cleared her throat suddenly, "you were telling me about the mirror?"

"Ah, yes," Salazar smiled, though taking care not to look into its reflection. Dumbledore wondered what he saw within it. "It's called the Mirror of Erised." He raised a hand to brush his fingers over the lettering over the arched golden frame. "These words are nonsense unless read inverted."

Hope snorted. "You really went all out, didn't you?"

Salazar spared her a smile as she translated the words "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi" backwards.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire," she read out loud before quirking an eyebrow. "It's beautiful, Salazar…but why are you showing it to me right now?"

Salazar gave her a mysterious smile.

"I suppose I'll just have to figure it out on my own," Hope presumed with a bit of exasperation.

"That is generally how it goes," Salazar chuckled before offering her the crook of his elbow. "Come along, descendant of mine, while the night is still young."

Hope rolled her eyes, but she took his arm all the same, and it was only when they were gone that Dumbledore allowed himself to breathe.

If that young man was Salazar Slytherin…and Hope was on such good terms with him…well, it gave Dumbledore a very uneasy feeling.

"You must be Remus Lupin."

The werewolf looked up from putting several books on the shelf to turn and survey the speaker. It was a woman with dancing blue eyes and short curly red hair.

He'd been working as a book-keeper at a small book shop that was two towns over from Potter Manor (and he was starting to get the feeling that Hope's paranoia concerning their home was well deserved) since his pseudo-niece had gone off to Hogwarts.

"Can I help you?" he asked, leaning heavily on his cane.

The next full moon was going to be later that night and his leg was starting to really ache.

"I'm Thalia Blackwood," the woman introduced herself kindly, extending a hand to him and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "Hope mentioned that you were a bit…reluctant to the idea of our families spending time together over the holiday."

Remus took her hand and shook it, still eyeing her with a bit of contemplation. "Hope is related to a lot of families that I generally treat with caution."

Thalia's lips curled upwards. "Yes, I've gotten a good look at her side of the family tree…Its rather extensive compared to ours."

Remus smoothed his thumb over the grip of his cane, but he could find nothing to say to that.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asked.

"Not particularly," Remus responded, "but I think sometimes Hope is far too trusting."

Like how she'd gone to have tea with the wife of a known 'reformed' Death Eater over the summer. Remus had thought that was remarkably foolish. She was remarkably like her father in that respect.

"But it doesn't really matter what I think," he admitted, "Potter Manor belongs to Hope and if she wants your family to come for a visit, then you can."

"I think it matters to her." Thalia tilted her head, eyes flicking over his leg and then to a moon chart that was pasted onto the wall by the previous owner of the shop. "The full moon's tonight, I hear it's tougher in the cold."

The colour leeched from Remus' face at the almost off-hand comment.

"Sorry, that was a bit rude of me." Thalia winced. "It's just that the Auror force I work in has two werewolves currently employed and they take the day off the day of a full moon and the day after."

Now Remus was staring at her in incomprehension, because being a werewolf in the UK was nothing short of terrible, because once it was discovered that someone was a werewolf, they were ostracized. Werewolf medical records weren't exactly public knowledge, but that didn't stop the press from finding out if someone was a werewolf, and Remus liked his anonymity.

"You mean…they're not ostracized?" Remus couldn't help but be aghast, and Thalia frowned.

"Of course not," she said. "Lycanthropy isn't terribly uncommon in Greece, but it's the result of a vicious attack. It would be cruel to blame a victim for something beyond their control."

Remus swallowed. "Greece must truly be a wonderful place, then."

Her eyes glittered and she smiled. "Oh, it's all right," Thalia said casually, "but perhaps you'd like to get lunch so we can get know each other a bit better, because I'm rather looking forward to the idea of celebrating Christmas with a distant niece."

And Remus couldn't help but get the feeling that Thalia could be very convincing.

It had been amusing to watch the Weasley twins bounce snowballs off the back of Professor Quirrel's turban, but within hours the girls had packed up their things, ready for Christmas at home.

The Weasleys were staying at Hogwarts over the break because their parents and little sister were visiting one of their older brothers, Charlie, in Romania where he was a dragonologist.

"Don't worry," George had grinned as he and Fred had come to see their friends off, "we won't miss you."

Hope rolled her eyes as Daphne laughed and Hermione struggled to not sigh quite so openly. "Well, I guess you won't be wanting your present."

That appeared to throw George. "Wait, you got me something?"

But all Hope did was laugh as she climbed into the train.

"Did you actually get them something?" Hermione asked but Hope grinned, pressing a finger to her lips.

"What'd you decide on telling Remus to get you?" Daphne inquired as she pulled out a book from her trunk before stowing it as her friends did the same.

"A greenhouse," Hope said decisively, thumbing through the pages of Morea's book.

"You already have a greenhouse," Hermione felt the need to point out, sharing a confused glance with Daphne. Both had spent time in Hope's greenhouse during Herbology lessons, after all.

"Yeah, for magical plants, but I need one from non-magical herbs and plants," Hope said, her eyes still fixed on the page in front of her, "and you're not really supposed to mix those."

"Really?" Daphne said dubiously. "According to what?"

Hope's fingers tapped against the book in her hands with a grin. "The potions that are involved in Earth Magick aren't generally involved with magical plants because the user can imbue them with their own."

Hermione snorted. "Imbue?"

"It says so, right there!" Hope insisted, holding up a page for the other two to see. "There's a lot of herbs that an earth witch can use…I don't know if Remus is going to actually do it, though."

"I'm sure he will, you know, if Mindy helps him out," Daphne considered. "She's pretty good with creating something out of nothing."

Hope's lips twisted into a brief smile before they descended into silence, opting to focus on their books in the silence.

They didn't speak for almost an hour, but they didn't really need to; the three spent an awful lot of time together as it was.

But it was Hermione who had broken the silence, taking a break from her book in order to stare out of the window a bit aimlessly, but it was the thing outside the window that had caught her attention, because even as the train rushed along the tracks.

"Hope," Hermione said suddenly, "is that… is that Hedwig out there?"

"Huh?" Hope twisted around in her seat in order to look out the window, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw that Hedwig was indeed fluttering in the wind outside, which was rather odd, because she was supposed to be in Wales at Potter Manor.

She sprang up, dropping her book onto her seat as she did so, sliding the window open, allowing a sharp gust of cold wind to enter as the snowy owl hopped inside, bearing a letter on one leg.

Hope shut the window quickly and Hedwig gave a doleful hoot, settling on Hope's shoulder, extending her leg to Hope, and Hope took it with a frown.

"Is that the Potter seal?" Daphne asked in befuddlement at the red wax seal that was indeed the Potter seal.

"Is that a big deal?" Hermione wondered as Hope looked over the scrawling on the envelope before breaking the seal and removing the letter. It appeared to be a list, from what Hermione could ascertain, and it only made Hope's frown deepen.

"Only members of the House can use that seal," Daphne pointed out, "so that would only be Hope, and generally they're next to a signature, not on the envelope."

Hope made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat before shoving the letter into the gap between two pages of her book before curling herself up on the platform booth.

"Are you all right, Hope?" Hermione asked in concern.

"Oh, fine," Hope grumbled, "just regretting the circumstances of my birth."

Daphne arched an eyebrow and Hermione shrugged.

She had missed him, that Remus could tell very much, but there was also something on her mind and it didn't take much to tell that she was avoiding Mindy, which he thought was rather odd, because Hope rather liked her house-elf, but she claimed to be feeling under the weather and was going to sleep off a terrible headache.

Remus had wanted to question her about it, but it was hard to when she got that look in her eye that was so very much like Lily, and it could've been nothing. Maybe she really was feeling a bit ill, on top of whatever issue she had with Mindy currently.

So he let her be.

Godric's Hollow was frigid and Hope had to keep her thick-mittened hands in her pockets to keep them from getting too cold, her scarf covering her nose as she walked through the snow. She stopped in front of the war memorial of her parents cradling their infant daughter in their arms. Hope had never liked the memorial very much, there had always been something about it that rubbed her the wrong way. Her parents weren't the only ones to have been killed during the First Wizarding War, and it wasn't really right to mention the sacrifices her parents had made and not take into consideration the ones that others had made.

She scowled at the statue –pure white and untainted by age or elements– before continuing on her way.

There were a few people out and about, but no one bothered her, no one recognized her, which was what Hope had been going for.

She pushed at the gate that was shut against the entrance to the graveyard, swinging it open slowly with a creak as she stepped into the silent graveyard.

It was only the afternoon, but the skies were grey as if ready for another snowfall and the sun was hidden behind the clouds. Hope's footprints were the first in the new snow as she walked along the path between rows of headstones, walking carefully until she came to a stop in front of the white marble headstone.

It was as stately as it had been the first time Hope had come to visit it with Remus and she couldn't help but wonder who had made the plans for the tombstone; was it Lily or was it James? Or perhaps someone else who was close to the family?

Hope's fingers curved in the air, her eyes glowing slightly as she drew a bouquet seemingly out of nothing, setting it down against the tombstone.

"I thought I'd find you here," came a voice to her right and Hope looked up as Thanatos approached, this time wearing a coat over what appeared to be a pantsuit. Hope found that she liked the toga better, but that was just her opinion.

"Don't you have some souls to reap?" Hope muttered thickly through her scarf.

"That's what minions are for, dearest," Thanatos responded, glancing over the tombstone upon which his deceased descendant's name had been so carefully carved. "I can sense your aggravation, Hope, speak."

It sounded like a command, but it didn't irritate Hope too much.

"It's just…there's so much to being an heir that it's kind of putting me off," Hope finally admitted.

"Oh?" He arched an eyebrow. "And here I thought you knew what you were getting yourself into."

Hope glowered towards him.

"It can't be so bad," Thanatos had to acquiesce. "You sacrificed one thing for another. Freedom from the family you hate to independence in Potter Manor. But you aren't just Hope Potter, dearest, you're Heir Potter and Heir Slytherin and one day you will be a lady and there will always be certain things that are expected of you."

Hope sighed with resignation, looking on the tombstone with sombre expression.

"You have a friend who is an heir, do you not?" Thanatos inquired. "Perhaps you should ask her about all that her duties entail."

"It wouldn't be the same," Hope muttered. "Daphne's parents are both alive and she can go to them if she doesn't understand things. I don't have anyone…it's just me."

He considered her for a long moment as she kept her gaze steady and forward. "You have no shortage of advisors, dearest," he assured her, lifting her hand with one of his own, "but I think you'll find that it's your opinion that matters the most."

Something weighed down against her hand and Hope looked down to see a pomegranate clasped in her grasp.

Hope's lips twisted faintly.

Charlus' office –Hope's now, as she had to keep reminding herself– was much less cluttered than the last time she'd been within it, though that had been months ago.

The high-backed chair behind the desk had been switched with a similar chair only one that was more suited for someone of Hope's size and stature, which she thought was a good idea. The dust had been brushed away, leaving the room far cleaner than Hope had been expecting.

She strode forward, placing the pomegranate her grandfather had left her with on the desk before grasping the curtains with her hands and wrenching them apart to allow sunlight within. Snow swarmed past the windows, caught in the wind, looking very much like Hope and Remus and Mindy were caught in a snow storm, but the wind wasn't nearly strong enough for that.

Hope secured the curtains before settling herself into her chair. This time she could actually reach the desk that had been so very high to her the last time she had sat behind it. The wood that made that desk had been cleaned recently and there was still the pile of unopened mail that had belonged to Charlus next to the raven feather quill where it rested in its holder next to the inkwell.

Her fingers played across the surface of the pomegranate, as she frowned.

"Mindy," Hope called and in a sharp crack, the house-elf appeared.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Do you think my father ever found being an heir exhausting?" Hope questioned, slumping back against the back of her chair.

"Mindy thinks so, yes," Mindy conceded.

Hope sighed again. "All right."

"Would Mistress like some tea?" Mindy inquired as she slid a folder bulging with parchments in front of Hope.

"Yes, tea, lots of tea…raspberry tea," Hope groaned into her arms, "and I need you to cut out the seeds of my pomegranate."

Mindy looked to the fruit but didn't comment much on it, taking it out with her and leaving Hope to her work.

Sometimes Hope really wished her family wasn't quite so noble. There were so many things to sign and seal and to read through.

"Having fun?"

Her enchanted compact was mounted on a stand that Mindy had kindly fetched for her, bearing Daphne's face, her hair gleaming golden in the sunlight.

Hope wrinkled her nose. "Paperwork isn't fun," she grumbled, searching through the desk for the wax sticks and sealing stamps in order to authenticate her signature. She made a noise of relief when she found the box in the bottom drawer. "It's long and irritating."

She opened the box, admiring its contents. There were several sticks of wax of varying colours –red, gold (the previous Potter generations were all Gryffindors, so of course red and gold), but also a green and silver one, and Hope couldn't help but get the feeling that the latter was for Dorea, her grandmother, who had been a Slytherin. There were only two stamps in the box, one with an intricate P (for Potter, no doubt) and the other with the Gryffindor seal.

Hope wrinkled her nose. "Mindy," she called out, "I'm going to need a stamp with the family crest!"

"Can she actually hear you?" Daphne snorted.

"Mindy always hears me," Hope said with certainty and a moment later the house-elf appeared with stamp in hand before disappearing off to her errands once more, and Hope barely got a "Thank you," out.

The stamp was smooth in her hand as she tipped it in order to see its miniscule detail. There was a helm on the top of the stamp with the shield bearing two five pointed stars on the top with a patterned line separating the top with the bottom, which had a single five pointed star. Hope wondered if there was a significance to that.

"Go take a break," Daphne suggested, "it won't kill you."

It was easier for her to say, she was in Greece where it was far warmer and far more beautiful, in her not so humble opinion.

"There's a lot of paperwork," Hope groaned into her arms, "I think it'll be better just to get it out of the way now."

"Your loss," Daphne laughed, look towards someone out of the frame. "Astoria and I are having a lot of fun in Greece, without paperwork."

The mirror shifted so that Hope could see a good half of Astoria's youthful face, so much like Daphne's, just as blonde and blue-eyed as her sister.

"Lucky you," Hope said dryly, "I hope you burn in the sun."

Both girls laughter echoed.

"Talk to you later, Hope," Daphne said with good humour, "don't drown too much under the paperwork."

Hope gave another groan as the connection cut off and she was left in the silence once more.

Retrospectively, it wasn't really terrible, but it had a lot to do with the Potter vaults and what the Potters had invested in and the properties they owned, and their duties within the Wizengamot, that sort of thing.

Ragnok was very good about keeping her updated with what was going on with her vaults, though in that instance, not much was happening. The investments the family heads before her had made were currently only thing making the vaults any money, but there was such a substantial amount there that Hope didn't really need to worry about how much she already had or how much she was making.

Hope signed her name in a flourish at the bottom of the parchment, signifying that she'd read the report and agreed with everything she'd seen within before snapping her fingers, the friction causing a small flame to appear at her fingertip. She lit the wick on the red wax stick before inverting it to allow the flame to melt at the wax, and slowly the red wax began to drip down onto the parchment next to her name and when there was a significant amount, Hope blew it out and replaced the stick in the box and took up the stamp of the family crest and pressed it down into the wax, leaving it there for a few moments before removing it, leaving the impression behind.

"One down, so many to go," Hope muttered a bit despondently.

"Hard at work, I see," came Remus' pleasant voice as he gave a light knock against the door and Hope leaned back against her chair, letting out a loud breath.

"Being an heir is exhausting, Remus," Hope bemoaned before sulkily bringing her cup of tea to her lips and drinking.

"Yes, I'd gathered." Remus gave her a smile. "How about a break?"

Hope groaned loudly. "That's what Daphne said, but I don't have time to take a break, I have to finish all this!" She gesticulated wildly towards the pile of flattened parchment and rolls of parchment bound tightly shut.

"There isn't a time limit for when that needs to be done," Remus pointed out, the smile still present on his lips. "Come on, Hope, take a breather."

"And do what?" Hope inquired petulantly.

"How about going on a short walk with me?"

That caused Hope to quirk an eyebrow before looking out of the window into the flurry-filled air.

"A short walk," Remus felt the need to reiterate, and Hope blew out a breath explosively from her lips before pushing herself back from the chair.

"All right, then," she said, moving past him to grab her boots and coat, then she looped her arm through his as they walked through the door.

The Potter Lands were like a scene from a fairytale of a winter wonderland. It was utterly breathtaking and Hope could enjoy it far more than the scene at Hogwarts. Of course, aesthetically, Hogwarts was beautiful white-capped with snow, but Hogwarts wasn't even close to feeling like home, it just happened to be a place that she had to spend most of her time.

The snow crunched under their feet as they walked.

"Thalia Blackwood has had some words with me," Remus said after a moment of silence and Hope blinked in surprise, tilting her head back to look at him.

"You talked? When?"

"The night before last," Remus informed her, "we had tea."

Hope arched an eyebrow. "And how'd that go?"

"Far better than I'd been expecting," Remus had to admit. "And I don't mind if you want her and her children to come over for Christmas."

"Are you sure?" Hope asked with her brow furrowed. "I know you weren't really…happy about it when I brought it up."

"I was a bit uneasy," Remus corrected as they stepped over a fallen log, "but I'd never met her, either, so…"

"Never judge a book by its cover?" Hope presumed, a faint smile twisting onto her lips.

"Something like that," Remus couldn't help but agree with a small chuckle. "She actually offered me a job."

Hope's eyes flashed a bright hazel with excitement. "Really? As what?"

"Evidently the Auror Force in Greece actually has an interest in hiring someone over the summer for a seminar on magical creatures and what to do if you find certain creatures in your path," Remus explained.

Hope's brow furrowed. "Wouldn't that be good for a lot of people to know, though?"

"Well, it's sponsored by the Auror Force," Remus corrected, "but the Head of that department likes the idea of her aurors being well-informed."

Hope's laugh echoed and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Thalia would."

"But it'll be nice to have a sort of family Christmas meal, don't you think?" Hope asked him, her hand squeezing his arm slightly as she slipped over ice.

Remus couldn't honestly remember the last time he'd had a family meal for Christmas. His father, Lyall had always blamed himself for Remus becoming a werewolf, and rather rightly too, even decades later Remus couldn't help but still be bitter over the part his father had played. His mother, Hope, had tried to make Christmas lively when he was a child, but she had died shortly before Voldemort had risen to power and Remus remained estranged from his father.

"Yes," he said with a faint smile, "I think it will be."

He was sure Hope could tell that his thoughts were far away, but she didn't bring it up as they circled back to the manor.

"I need to get you something for Christmas!"

"Oh, not this again," Hope complained, keeping her arm looped with Aggie's in order to keep herself from being lost in the crowd of people in Corinth Crossroads, all examining the current wares. "I thought you lot were helping Remus with my present."

Remus had been very quiet about the matter, other than telling her not to take the back door, which gave Hope the feeling that whatever he was working on was outside.

"Yeah, but I've got to give you something on top of that," Aggie grumbled a bit petulantly.

The sun was shining down on them and Hope had turned her hair an identical bronze that Thanatos was known to favour, keeping her eyes as dark as his.

"Why bother?" Hope snorted. "I don't need a lot of things."

"Well, what're you getting me?" Aggie inquired.

Hope couldn't help but release a laugh at that. "Something Earth Magick related."

"Ooh, you're no fun!" The blue-eyed witch complained.

Hope pulled her to a stop at a small shop that was selling loose leaf tea, more than she was accustomed to seeing, her eyes drifting over the various types with interest.

"You need to stop drinking so much tea," Aggie said, wrinkling her nose at her cousin, "that much tea can't be good for you."

"Can't hate what you've never tried," Hope responded, paying for a box of pomegranate, lavender, rose, mint, and hibiscus tea respectively.

It was easy to be around Aggie, she was very up-front about her thoughts and she had a deep love for the Ancient Arts, something that wasn't nearly as frowned upon in the Greek Isles as it was in the UK.

"Mum says we're going to your place in the morning and having Christmas lunch," Aggie added as they poked around the sweet shop, getting a good look at the various kinds of fudge that were there.

"That's the plan," Hope agreed as they shared some peppermint fudge. "Where're Galen and your mum, anyways?"

"Busy." Aggie's nose wrinkled for good measure. "I think Galen wants to bring Dianthe over, you know, his girlfriend, she was going to come over for Christmas lunch this year anyways."

Hope grimaced. "I didn't think about if you lot had had any plans."

"Don't worry about it," Aggie waved a hand carelessly before beaming at her. "We've never had family over for Christmas. Mum's parents and Aunt Aglaia died before we were born and our dad…well…" Aggie's lip curled in disdain.

Hope remembered the story about how Nileas Ganis had left them without so much as a word, and she couldn't help but feel second-hand resentment towards him on the Blackwoods behalf.

"I've barely celebrated Christmas before," Hope admitted, keen to turn the conversation elsewhere. "Last year with Remus was the first time for me."

Aggie stared at her. "You're…you're serious?"

Hope arched an eyebrow. "Did you think I ran away for kicks?"

Aggie didn't really have a response to that, but luckily for her, they were interrupted by Galen's voice.

"You two were supposed to be down the street ten minutes ago."

Hope found it a bit aggravating how almost everyone she knew was much taller than her, and Galen was no exception. At the height she and Aggie shared, he practically towered over them.

"We were just walking around," Hope said a bit mutinously, her bag swinging wildly on her arm, hitting against the side of her leg, unaccustomed to the harried expression Galen had been wearing that had now been replaced with relief.

"You're both eleven," Galen pointed out. "You shouldn't be going anywhere without a minder."

Hope rolled her eyes and Aggie snorted. "So is the girlfriend coming to lunch?"

"What?" Galen asked dumbly.

"Dianthe Floros," Hope and Aggie sang together. "Is she coming to Christmas lunch?"

"Well, ah," Galen floundered a bit, and the two girls laughed.

Hope had never truly appreciated just how large the Potter Library was. There were two levels to it, with the stacks reaching high, all the way to the ceiling, making it seem almost as though there was an endless supply of books.

Hope pursed her lips as she looked over the titles with a vague sort of interest. She should probably be practicing her violin, like she had been doing five minutes earlier. Greek lessons were after lunch, so Hope had some time.

She couldn't help but think about what Salazar had said about the Mirror of Erised, how she was going to have to discover for herself why the mirror was so important. She moved the rolling ladder, climbing up to the fourth rung before pulling a particular book out and twisting around to sit on the rung –which, arguably, was a bit of a precarious situation, if Hope had been caring at all about her safety– in order to flip through the pages without too much of a care.

The book itself was on enchanted objects, and, evidently, there had been many made over the years, though very few appeared to still be enchanted, as most of the spells had worn off over time.

She traced her fingers over the words and the depictions of the mirrors on the pages listed for mirrors in particular. What she really wanted was…there it was!

Mirrors, much like stone arches, have been believed to be associated with doorways to other realms. Some have made claims to lead into the Underworld itself, while others merely move you from place to place as long as there is one at the destination the caster was intending to reach. Transportation by mirror was uncommon and in some places rare in its use by witches and wizards in how unpredictable it can be. Wizards and Witches prefer the more trustworthy art of Apparition for the sake of travel.

Mirrors were first used in the art of scrying that evolved from a form of water scrying, known simply as catoxtromancy, or a form of divination by means of a looking glass—

"Mistress?"

Hope yelped, the book slipping from her grasp to tumble to the ground in order to look at the house-elf who appeared rather bemused.

"Shouldn't Mistress be practicing her violin?" Mindy probed as Hope slid down the ladder carefully in order to land on her feet.

"Yes, maybe that might be a good idea," Hope muttered as she knelt to pick up the book, smoothing it closed and heading off in the direction of the ballroom before Mindy could say anything else.

Hope hadn't picked up her violin in quite some time. She'd just gotten so busy with everything and then going away to Hogwarts, that it had slipped her mind. But, she did need to practice, as Mindy said, because practice was the only way she was going to get any better.

She brought the string instrument up to prop onto her shoulder, moving her fingers into the correct positions before bringing up bow to slide it over the strings.

The sheet music that Mindy had given her were slower and less upbeat than the pieces Mindy had had her practice in the spring and summer, but Hope had always thought Christmas was a bit more sombre…colder.

The melody was slow and Hope stumbled over a few of the notes, pitched screech she came up with instead making her grimace slightly before bumbling along into the correct notes.

The music spread throughout the ballroom and echoed oddly off the walls giving the music a much eerier sound than perhaps the composer had intended.

Hope didn't see how Mindy nodded approvingly even as she struggled to get her fingers to move in the correct way.

Hope stirred flour into the mixture while Hermione helped her mother drop batter onto the pan that was going into the oven.

"Galen's girlfriend is coming over for Christmas lunch," Hope informed Hermione and Hermione arched her eyebrows.

"Aren't you a bit paranoid about people coming to the manor?"

"I am not!" Hope cried, sounding just slightly insulted. "I just like my privacy and, you know, a lot of people want me dead."

That made Mrs. Granger pause in order to raise her head to look at Hope, in her denim and plaid with her hair wound into a long plait down her back, undoubtedly trying to fathom why someone would be interested in killing an eleven year old with questionable taste.

"A lot of people want you dead?" she had to repeat a bit dubiously.

"Well, my parents fought in a war and some of the people they fought against didn't quite get the jail time they deserved," Hope said the words carefully, not entirely sure if she was explaining it the best way. "Slytherin House is full of Pure-blood supremacists, which isn't that much of a surprise when you consider Salazar's views…"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "I thought you liked Salazar?"

"Oh, I do," Hope said quickly, bobbing her head in agreement. "He's great and everything, but he's…he's very bitter."

She pursed her lips and frowned. It couldn't have just been because of his parents and brother's death, of course, she was certain he was still angry about it, much like she was angry about her own parents' demise, but there was something else.

"I think it's something to do with his son, Adrian," Hope added.

"The one that killed almost everyone in the family?"

"Hope, I must say, I am slightly concerned about the people you're related to," Mrs. Granger said, with eyes wide at Hermione's question.

Hope snorted. "We've got a lot of issues. Hopefully Adrian's madness died with him."

"How did Adrian die?" Hermione inquired curiously and Hope paused in order to think.

"You know I don't really know," she decided a moment later.

He had still been seventeen when he'd died though, that much she'd been able to ascertain from the family tree dates listed under his name from date of birth to date of death, and that was the real tragedy. A boy barely out of childhood so driven mad by the Dark Arts that he was willing to take the lives of his mother, sister, and brother-in-law, intending to kill his nephew and father but not quite making it.

"If there's one thing my family's good at, its tragedy." Hope frowned as she stirred the batter a bit more firmly than was necessary.

"Do you think the Wolfsbane Potion is difficult to make?" she asked so suddenly that Hermione stared.

"Er, I think it might be," the brunette acquiesced and Hope dug down into the bag she'd brought, hanging over the chair in order to pull out her copy of Moste Potente Potions, furrowing her brow as she carefully flipped through the pages.

The book itself could actually be found in the restricted section of the Hogwarts Library, though Hope wasn't allowed access through there, besides, she preferred her own books to the ones in that library. Moste Potente Potions wasn't that bad, considering the vast array of books that were contained within the restricted section, and Hope could only assume it had earned its place in that section based on the kind of potions that were within its pages and the vulgar descriptions of the side effects of said potions.

"Well it takes two weeks," Hope said a moment later, frowning over the curling ink beneath the potion's title as Hermione reached over to grab the cookie dough she'd been mixing together in order to put them on the pan with her mother's help. "Apparently sugar makes it useless."

"Why would you even put sugar in a potion in the first place?" Hermione asked curiously as her mother listened silently with a bit of curiosity. Hermione had written a lot of letters over the course of the term, so it wasn't really as though magic was very new to her, or spells, or potions. She didn't understand much of what Hermione and her friends said, but it was plain to see her daughter's enthusiasm, so she was content like that.

"Maybe the potion doesn't taste very good," Hope considered, frowning for good measure at the ingredients. "Remus mentioned the potion before…I think it was created within the last fifty years or so but he was disappointed that he couldn't make it."

"Not much of a potioneer?" Hermione asked.

Hope shrugged. "That and the ingredients are a bit expensive."

Thankfully, all the ingredients listed on the page where stored in the potion's room at Potter Manor, so she wouldn't have to look far in order to find what she needed.

"Maybe I'll make it as a Christmas present for Remus," Hope contemplated out loud.

"I thought it was a bit difficult," Hermione pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but that's potions for you," Hope grumbled, more to herself than to her friend. "There's a reason I'm barely passing, and it's not because I'm terrible at potions."

Snape evidently took her very existence to be a personal insult, which Hope found to be a bit ridiculous, but she could fight fire with fire on that one. One more than one occasion she'd vindictively toyed with the idea of taking on her mother's appearance to shake him up, but Hope wasn't that cruel.

"Maybe I'll give it a go," Hope contemplated, more to herself than to Hermione as the last of the cookies were slid into the oven. "I mean, what's the worst thing that could happen?"

"Well, you could poison Remus," Hermione pointed out and Mrs. Granger's eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

"I'm sure that's rather minor," Hope retorted, remarkably unconcerned about the possibility.

Hermione laughed.

It was positively frigid when Hope bundled herself up and made her way outside with axe in mittened hands. She was still working her ways through the paperwork that Mindy had piled in front of her, though it had more to do with her avoiding it than there being a large amount of it.

So, Hope had made her way out of the manor after lunch that day in order to chop down a tree at the edge of the forest. They weren't low on firewood, and even if they were, Hope was sure Mindy would've had that matter rectified in a matter of moments, but Hope needed to clear her head, and this was her best choice.

Hope took a swing and buried the axe's blade into the bark, again and again.

The wind whistled through the trees as the sunlight cast a glow over the Potter Lands, and slowly, ever so slowly, her headache from staring at small words for so long slowly eased.

Her breath came out as fog as the flurries came down from the sky.

She liked it better at home than at school. Hogwarts as a structure wasn't something she really had a problem with, in fact, she might've even liked it, if not for the people. People like Snape, and Dumbledore, and Marcus Flint that made her spell the curtains around her bed against intruders each night and be extra careful about where she stepped.

There was a loud snap above her and Hope looked up quickly in order to see a branch dropping over her head and Hope had to lunge into the snow in order to avoid being hit.

The snow was icy against her face as she twisted to look back at where she'd been standing, where the branch was embedded in the snow like a roughly carved spear that had just missed its mark.

After that Hope didn't have much of an inclination to chop up any more wood, so she rushed inside and leaned heavily against the door.

Ordinarily, Hope wasn't very clumsy, she didn't really have that luxury. If there was one thing that Mindy had ingrained in her, it was that no matter her age, she was still Heir Potter and she represented the Potter family, even in the singular, and heiress' couldn't be seen as clumsy.

Walking in heels had been a hard enough skill to master, but Hope was certain she hadn't tripped in months, not until Hogwarts. She couldn't blame Hogwarts itself, but there was something…off about the place…someone off. Hope couldn't really explain it, it was more feeling than factual.

Hope ran a hand through her hair before pulling the coat free to hang on the rack by the door, walking past the sitting room as Remus called: "Back so soon?"

"It didn't agree with me," Hope called back as she made her way towards the library, unaware of the befuddled expression on Remus' face as she did so.

"Crystals, crystals," she muttered to herself, taking the short staircase up to the second landing, looking through the titles until she found the one she was looking for, and then she pulled it out and flip to the page.

Morea had a section on the use of crystals in spells, but there wasn't very much to it and Hope assumed that either she hadn't had much of an interest in the art, or she'd left it to another book in the series that Salazar claimed she'd written.

Crystals, as it turned out, were rather good at absorbing curses and then purifying them, and Hope was just about certain that someone had put a curse on her, the question of who, though, that was still up for debate.

She trailed her finger down the page, eyes running over the ingredients before walking down the stairs and moving towards the main staircase to lead the way up to her room and Remus stopped trying to comprehend why she was rushing about.

There was a chest of a variety of gemstones that Hope had found in the attic (though, she was certain she could have found the same type of stones in one of her vaults at Gringotts) that she couldn't help but wonder if it was another of Dorea Black's keepsakes, as it had been strategically placed a bit too close to the chest of books from the Black Family Library that Hope had seen before when she'd been looking for ornaments the previous year, and it was from that chest that Hope grabbed a clear, quartz obelisk, not very large, but neither very small, and thus perfect for the spell.

It took her a few more moments to reach the potions room, and this time Remus didn't even look up from the paper he was regarding with interest as she ambled past.

Hope had hardly been in the potions room since she and her friends had concluded their classes with Remus that summer. There had simply been other things of interest to keep her away.

Bottles and flasks of varying sizes and shapes were mounted on the shelves, some with crumbling leaves or powders, others with suspiciously thick solutions, and some with marked names on them stating what type of potion they were.

Hope sat the book on the stand on the counter before making her way around the room, grabbing what little she needed: a mortar and pestle, a separate bowl, a stoppered jug of water, and respective bottles full of betony petals, dried nettles, rosemary, and yarrow flowers.

She poured a good bit of water into the bowl before measuring out the appropriate amount of dried nettles, rosemary, yarrow, and betony into the mortar, beginning to grind it all together with the pestle.

Nettles were sometimes used in the type of magical potions that Hope brewed at school, but it wasn't an inherently magical herb, and mixing magical and non-magical potion ingredients didn't usually end up well (luckily nettles appeared to be rather neutral in that aspect, or Hope was sure that something might have exploded).

Hope twisted the pestle around a few more times for good measure, grinding the contents together one last time before dumping the contents into the bowl, using a stirring rod to disperse the mixture a bit more evenly throughout the fluid before dropping the piece of quartz within, watching with a bit of interest as the gem gleamed as though light was shining down on it, which was similar to the description of the result that the mixed herbs and water should've had happen, since it was designed to purify the crystal dipped within.

She lifted the crystal up holding it easily in her hand, glancing back to the book with an arched eyebrow. Incantation phrases were more common with other kinds of magic than with the spells Hope used at school or with her Earth Magick, but the first incantation was rather simple, and the second one wasn't much longer.

"Curse unseen and unbidden

Appear, so it shall be unwritten."

As she finished reciting, a feeling like ice crept up her spine to flow down her fingers and then beyond them to the crystal, and a blackness appeared to spread within the crystal until it turned it completely from clear to black.

Hope's eyebrows drew together. The confirmation that she had indeed been cursed wasn't comforting in the slightest.

She tightened her grip on the crystal and began the next incantation.

"With this magic verse

I turn around this wicked curse.

As these words of mine are spoken

Let this evil spell be broken."

And the blackness within faded, leaving the crystal sitting rather unassuming in her hand.

"So, what exactly is the plan for Christmas Day?" Remus inquired one night while Hope was scrawling out an essay for Charms, determined to finish her homework before Christmas came so she'd have more time to do other things.

He was sitting in the armchair in the sitting room as they were bathed in the warmth and light of the fire flickering in the fireplace, while Hope was nestled on the floor, swathed with enough blankets to cocoon her yet somehow managing to keep her arms unhindered as she wrote. There was a tray sitting beside her bearing a teapot and teacup, the tea half drunk.

Somehow Hope had gotten rather into pomegranate tea, something she'd picked up when she'd been out shopping with Aggie, and Remus had hardly seen her not drinking it…but, then again, she also appeared to like the pomegranate seeds.

And somehow Remus was almost certain Thanatos was to blame. Remus liked to blame the god for some of Hope's odd habits, though liking pomegranate was remarkably mild considering her usual.

"They'll be by after breakfast…around eight Thalia said," Hope replied, pausing in her writing in order to recall exactly what had been agreed on. "Galen and Aggie want to ice skate so after we do the presents and get the food ready for lunch, we're going to go skating on the lake…Dianthe's a pretty good ice skater, I think."

She furrowed her brow. Hope didn't know very much about Galen's girlfriend, but if he liked her as much as he said he did, then she didn't mind allowing her within her wards.

"Dianthe has to be a siren to have put up with him so long," Aggie had grinned widely.

"Didn't Sirens kill their victims?" Hope had inquired.

"Well, yeah, but you know what I mean!"

Dianthe was very familiar with the Blackwoods, but she'd never met Hope before, and Hope had never met her before, so it was bound to be an experience.

"Have you ever ice skated before?" Remus inquired, almost faintly amused.

Colour dusted across Hope's cheeks. "How hard can it be?" she grumbled to herself, getting the distinct feeling that she was going to be eating her words sooner rather than later.

Hope hadn't thought very much about the book on mirrors she had looked through days earlier before Mindy had carted her off into violin practice, it was something that had slipped her mind for the time being.

But the idea of mirrors being gateways was almost too interesting not to consider, and it led Hope to stand before the floor length mirror that was mounted on her wall, her considering expression reflected.

She'd had a different mirror before, one that liked to voice its opinions rather loudly, but it had annoyed her far too much, so it had been exiled to the attic, with a sheet tossed over it to keep it from speaking every time something moved where its reflection could be seen.

Hope hadn't found any spells related to mirrors, not even in the book she'd found, which was a bit annoying, if you asked Hope.

A few steps were taken closer until Hope's nose was almost touching the surface, and then she raised a finger in order to tap it against the surface of the mirror, only to jolt when it rippled like gentle waves on the water under her touch.

Then she tapped it a second time and nothing happened.

That only served to make her annoyed as she raised her hands to shake them aggressively at the mirror.

"Make up your mind!" Hope complained, only to jump at the sound of a book falling to the floor, and she looked over to her desk to see where Salazar Slytherin's journal had fallen.

She shook off her surprise, taking a few steps toward the desk in order to lean down and lift the book off the ground.

Hope hadn't had much time to read it since she, Daphne, and Hermione had started at Hogwarts. And she hadn't gotten very far in, what she'd learned about Adrian and his madness had come from Thanatos…there wasn't anything in the journal following the murder of Morea, Nelda, Damian, and Adrian. Hope had assumed that Salazar hadn't really wanted to put pen to paper after nearly his whole line was expunged.

She flipped absently through the pages thick with writings and sketches of places Hope was unfamiliar with and she almost put it down again, but her eyes caught something that was too dark and too chaotic.

Hope turned the next page slowly, her eyebrows raising high on her forehead.

The spread of two pages was dominated by a smear of dark ink across the pages like Salazar had upended the contents of his inkwell onto the pages.

"What the—" Hope started to say, severely startled only to be interrupted by a pair of hands so pale the veins were so starkly blue and Hope wasn't surprised in the slightest to look up and see the kind face of Thanatos as he pressed his cold hands to hers in order to shut the book.

"What is that supposed to be?" Hope asked, not even remarking on his sudden appearance.

"That, dearest," Thanatos said with a heavy sigh, "is the tragedy of Adrian Slytherin."

And then he left as suddenly as he'd come, and, as always, Hope was left vaguely unnerved by his cryptic words.

AN: Adrian's tale is important to the story and it will come to light at some point, and it is very tragic and in some ways very similar to Hope's own.

Hope has a lot of difficulties playing the part of the heiress when she's still a kid, she finds it very annoying, but she'll grow into it.

Two guesses who cursed Hope ;)

And the plan is to give you guys an update on Christmas days, so be sure to give the chapter a lot of love!

As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

*Chapter 15*: Family Celebrations

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Fifteen: Family Celebrations

AN: So many good guesses about who cursed Hope, and what the tragedy of Adrian actually is, but I promise the second one is far more interesting than the first, though you won't find out for a number of chapters. It probably won't really come to light until book two, but don't quote me on that.

The picture for the fic has been changed, to the person who was confused.

And the mirror business is something that will be elaborated on eventually and its nothing like the wardrobe into Narnia, this fic is complicated enough with Greek mythology.

There is a Wizarding nobles club of sorts in this chapter that is based off the Golden Fleece which was a product of the combined genius of fic writers Ell Roche and ExcentrykeMuse, so they get the creation credit.

Merry Christmas! I hope you all have a wonderful day!

Albus Dumbledore had felt uneasy months ago when he'd discovered the Invisibility Cloak was gone, but now he couldn't help but be even more so.

Somehow Hope had gotten her father's cloak, he was certain of it, because he'd once walked past her while he himself was invisible and used his own spell to reveal her presence, albeit briefly.

He didn't like to think of how that was possible, especially since it had been locked away, but none of his enchantments had been broken. It was as though the cloak had vanished itself, an idea that was altogether mad…unless someone stronger than Dumbledore had taken it, though Dumbledore couldn't imagine who or how.

Dumbledore looked directly behind his desk to where the four founders slept on within their frames, perpetually, and his eyes fixed on Salazar Slytherin. But the portrait betrayed nothing.

He turned away and didn't see how the pale eyes opened and narrowed.

Dianthe Floros had never been somewhere as impressive as Potter Manor. The Blackwood Estate was more rustic than anything else, but she didn't think it was quite as large.

She tightened her scarf where it was fixed over her mouth as she walked through the snow. She knew from Galen of his cousin's paranoia, of course, if she'd been the Girl-Who-Lived –a name that was famous even in Greece– she'd want to be sure that no one she didn't like could get to her home.

It was a very long walk from the road inwards through the frost and snow crusted grass, enough to make Dianthe wish for sturdier boots, because with each passing moment, her toes were getting colder and colder.

But the Potter lands were beautiful, though she supposed in the cusp of spring, summer, and even autumn, they were just as breathtaking. There were so many trees and sloping hills…it was like the manor itself was hidden within the forest, but that didn't stop the manor itself from being lovely when at last Dianthe caught sight of it.

It was bigger than the Blackwood Estate, looking almost like a French chateau but with Greek pillars on the carved porch, shielding it from the elements, and there seemed to be many rooms, if the windows were to be believed, with snow-capping the roof.

Like it was right out of a fairytale.

She drew her scarf away from her mouth as she lifted a hand to raise one of the bronze lion-head knockers to knock down against the door.

It took a few moments, but then the door was opened and Dianthe had to look down in order to see who had opened it.

The House-elf wearing what could have only been the Potter crest gave her a look over and said: "How did Miss get past the wards?"

Dianthe's lips curled into a smile even though her cheeks were practically frozen. "I believe I was recently added to them," she said, before elaborating further, "I'm Dianthe Floros, Galen Blackwood's girlfriend…I'm coming over tomorrow with the others."

The House-elf nodded in understanding.

"I came by because I wanted to introduce myself to Hope before tomorrow," Dianthe added and the House-elf relented, parting the door to allow her inside at the sound of a dulled explosion, and the House-elf's eyes went wide and she disappeared as soon as the door was shut with a call of "Mistress Hope!"

"Just a minor explosion," came a voice overhead as a small figure descended with a few harsh coughs with the House-elf trailing after her, giving Dianthe the first view of Hope Potter, and she didn't know quite what she'd expected.

An eleven year old girl with hair a color of deep red, and soot spread across half her face.

"The magical and non-magical herbs kind of mixed together," Hope muttered, "don't worry, it's not serious, I just need a wet clo…th…"

Hope paused two steps before hitting the ground level, taking in the girl standing in the foyer, from her blonde curls to the stains on her fingers from potion ingredients.

"You must be Dianthe Floros," Hope said before frowning at her, "I thought you weren't supposed to show up until tomorrow? Or have I been up all night?" She appeared mildly perturbed at the thought, but not altogether surprised.

"No," Dianthe laughed lightly, "it's still Christmas Eve. I just wanted to come by first and introduce myself, since, you know, we've never met."

Hope snorted and the House-elf handed her young mistress a damp cloth and Hope scrubbed viciously at her face and when she pulled back, her face was red but there was remarkably less soot.

Then she held out her hand. "Hope Potter, I'm not sure if they've mentioned me much—"

Dianthe laughed as she took her hand. "Aggie's over the moon about you. Her best friend is more into healing that the Ancient Arts, you might be the first person that she's met with the same interests."

Hope's cheeks flushed pink, but she beamed. "It's probably the first time a cousin of mine has actually liked me," she responded cheekily and Dianthe almost thought it was a joke, but there was something in her eyes that made her think different. "Of course," Hope added, "we're barely related as it is…very, very distant cousins, but I don't think any of us mind calling each other cousins."

Dianthe gave her a smile. "Just wait until they give you a nickname."

Hope laughed. "My name has four letters, I doubt you can make a nickname from that."

"You'd be surprised," Dianthe chuckled.

"Do you like tea?" Hope asked her as the blonde pulled the zipper of her coat down and Hope gestured towards the hooks next to the doors. "Or hot chocolate? We have both."

"Hot chocolate, if you don't mind, thank you," Dianthe said as she followed after the younger witch.

"Mindy," Hope called loudly, "can you bring a hot chocolate and a cup of pomegranate tea to the sitting room?"

"My caretaker, Remus Lupin, is out at the moment," Hope added as they entered the sitting room, allowing Dianthe to admire the Christmas tree in the corner with its ornaments and baubles adorning the branches, several presents already underneath. The fire blazing in the fireplace flooded the room with warmth as they both sat down on one of the couches.

"You don't seem like the type that really needs a caretaker," Dianthe couldn't help but mention.

Hope gave a half-shrug. "He was one of my dad's friends…that and he worries about me being on my own with just Mindy, so he's become my kind of live-in minder."

Dianthe could see the faint outline of Hope's lightning shaped scar where it was on her forehead. It was strange to think something like that, a scar, made it clear who she was to anyone that knew her story.

Mindy balanced the tray bearing a mug of steaming hot chocolate, a teacup of Hope's favorite tea and a teapot, setting it between them.

"Galen says you're a potioneer," Hope mentioned after she took a drink from her teacup, not as refined as Dianthe had been expecting with the quality of her dress and the size of the manor she lived in.

"Yes," Dianthe smiled at the mention of her job before taking a gulp of her hot chocolate, "I always liked it…it was probably the only thing that kept me sane at the orphanage."

Green eyes cast towards her. "You're an orphan?"

"My mother died in childbirth and my father died a few months before I was born," Dianthe explained. "Being accepted into Athene Academy was probably the most surprising thing that happened to me, apart from Galen, of course." Her eyes turned fond at the mention of her boyfriend.

"After my parents died, I was sent off to my mother's sister's family," Hope offered, her lips twisting downwards. "I ran away when I was ten and came here." She gestured around to the manor as a whole.

"Talk about an upgrade," Dianthe chuckled.

"Well, I was living in a cupboard under the stairs and now I have my own room, so that's always nice."

Dianthe got the feeling she wasn't joking.

"You wouldn't want to help me with a potion, would you?" Hope asked her suddenly, eyes glittering.

It wasn't unusual for Remus to come home to Potter Manor to hear laughter, but that was generally only when Daphne or Hermione was around.

"Oh my gods, you're not serious!" Hope's voice could be heard in the direction of the potion's room. "What a complete dork! I didn't think he had it in him!"

"It was so sad, because the orphanage had a curfew that I had to turn him down," a second voice laughed with her. "He looked so put out until I asked him if he wanted to do it on Saturday instead."

"And somehow you two are still together," Hope snorted. "Impressive."

Remus peered into the room curiously to see Hope within with a blonde-haired girl of fifteen, her curls pulled back into a loose bun as they both hovered over a cauldron that was smoking ominously.

He gave a polite knock. "Do I want to know what you're up to, Hope?"

Hope cast a grin back while the blonde-haired girl jumped in surprise. "If you did, then it wouldn't be much of a surprise."

Remus arched an eyebrow.

"This is Dianthe Floros," Hope added for good measure, nodding towards her unfamiliar companion. "She's Galen's girlfriend."

"Ah," Remus said in understanding, extending the hand that wasn't clutching his cane (it wasn't a very good day for his leg) and the girl took it easily. "Hello."

"Hello," Dianthe said with an easy smile. "You must be…Remus?" She spoke his name carefully, just to make sure it was coming out correctly.

"Remus Lupin," he agreed before considering her strangely. "I thought you weren't coming over until—"

"Oh, I am," she offered quickly before Hope took over.

"Dianthe just dropped by to say hello," Hope interjected, flashing a grin towards the blonde, "and give me some advice on a potion."

"What potion?" Remus inquired curiously, looking from girl to girl and then to the bubbling potion, and then to the potion's book propped open on the stand, but, as though coordinated, Hope and Dianthe moved so that they were each positioned in front of either the book or the cauldron.

"It's a surprise!" Hope nearly whined, stamping her foot to the floor with emphasis. "Don't ruin it, Remus!"

And the werewolf laughed as the potion was set to simmer overnight and Hope locked the door with a furtive look shot in his direction before escorting Dianthe to the door with a 'thank you' and a smile and a 'see you tomorrow'.

It was late into the night and Hope wasn't asleep, something that was hardly surprising. Hope had a tendency to have late nights and early mornings, especially since Salazar preferred teaching her about Earth Magick when no one else was around –contrary to Hermione's opinion that he merely was avoiding being in her presence, as the only Muggle-born in the group– which generally resulted in Hope being an early riser.

She'd liked roaming around Hogwarts in the dead of night, it was more fun that way; there were less students and teachers to avoid. Of course, there were always the patrols to consider, but patrols had a schedule to them and it had only taken Hope a few weeks of creeping around in the dead of night to figure out which floors were being patrolled and at what times.

Hope may not have liked Hogwarts as much as she did Potter Manor, but she couldn't deny that there was a kind of intrigue with Hogwarts that didn't exist very much with Potter Manor, though she'd be the first to admit that even she hadn't seen all of Potter Manor; many of the rooms remained untouched and undisturbed. But with Hogwarts, everything was an unknown, even with the map she and the girls were working on making, because, really, the castle was far too big for them not to need one from time to time.

Daphne had taken a secret passage to Charms class only to lose track of it somewhere on the seventh floor. Hermione had gotten a bit lost behind a tapestry on her way to lunch. And Hope had ended up debating very loudly with Elizabeth Burke's portrait about each of their views on Pure-blood Supremacy, which Hope thought was a bit ridiculous, only to find out that the portrait housed a passageway that lead down to the dungeons from the first floor landing of the Grand Staircase.

Hope glanced over the draft of their map of Hogwarts that she and the girls had drawn up prior to leaving for break. She'd meant to show it to Remus right when she got home, but she'd stuffed the plans into her Earth Magick book and had promptly forgotten about it.

The cauldron full of Wolfsbane Potion was simmering and giving off faint blue smoke in a rather eerie fashion, but according to the potions book –and Dianthe– that was normal.

She didn't usually spend her nights in the potions room, but since she was actually working on a potion, it wasn't a bad place to just sit in.

The scent of herbs lingered in the air and Hope didn't really mind it, it wasn't as though it was an overpowering smell as she sat in the uncomfortable stool and flipped through the yellowed pages of Morea's book.

Salazar felt that she'd mastered about a quarter of it, and that was being generous, Hope thought. Everything to do with Earth Magick was as fascinating to her as it had been the first day that she had discovered it.

Of course, she felt that her magical core had strengthened significantly during the lessons Salazar taught her. The magical core was an idea that was almost entirely based on the fact that every magical child was born with a sort of source to their magic that grew and strengthened as that child did. Not exercising it properly usually ended disastrously. It wasn't something brought up in casual conversation, but Salazar had explained that there was a reason that classes were formulated the way they were.

Besides, Salazar had all but banned her from using any magic he deemed above her level. Hope would've been a bit more irritated of that if she hadn't used that shield charm during that difficulty during that incident with the troll, which went to show that if you used a spell out of your depth, you'd end up in deep water pretty quick.

Hope had learned that lesson and she tended to stick with the chapters towards the front of the book. When Salazar deemed her skill great enough, though, she was going to hand the book off to Aggie. Aggie had been asking her about it for awhile, and Hope knew that she was as fascinated about the Ancient Arts as Hope was…and as a descendent of Morea Avis, she had as much right to the book as Hope did, Hope just happened to find the book first.

Her eyes trailed over the worn pages, over the words and images that Morea had painstakingly written and sketched in a delicate hand, and she couldn't help but think of the black mass at the end of Salazar's journal and wonder.

Christmas was always fun, of course, George might've liked to spend it at the Burrow just a bit more, but Hogwarts wasn't that bad. True, it didn't have the same home-cooked meals that his mother made or the cramped space that made the warmth of the flames in the rickety fireplace ever-present, but it wasn't that bad.

He and Fred woke up first and didn't bother to wait for their brothers with their own presents at the foot of their bed. There weren't many, but Fred and George had never minded.

They tugged on their Weasley sweaters and chewed on the fudge their mother had sent, ignoring the note that said not to eat it until after breakfast, and it was only when they were almost completely through their presents that George caught sight of an extra present, thin and wrapped in blue.

"Hey, why'd you get a present and I didn't?" Fred frowned as George looked it over with a bit of bemusement.

There wasn't a name to signify who'd sent it, but then he remembered what Hope had said: "Well, I guess you won't be wanting your present."

"You don't think Hope actually sent me a present?" he said, looking to Fred and watching the realization dawn on his face, but then he eyed it suspiciously.

"I thought that was a joke," Fred responded dubiously. "You don't think its cursed or anything?"

"I think Hope's a bit more original than that," George conceded a bit wryly before ripping the wrapping aside to reveal a thin box and when he opened it, the first thing he saw was a loose piece of parchment.

"Since we have a truce," George read out loud for Fred's benefit, "here's how to make the pranks we used on you this term –Hope."

A pair of ginger heads looked into the box to find parchments of scribbled words, incantations and potion ingredients and the like.

"Next time I see her, I'm going to kiss her," Fred decided with a bit of awe.

"I think Angelina might not like that as much," George snorted.

The snow was falling thickly when Hope awoke the next morning, her hair a mess of tangles from a fitful sleep as she stared blearily towards the window.

The window that was not with its curtains pulled back when she had gone to sleep early that morning.

"Mindy!" Hope complained loudly and the house-elf appeared at her bedside.

"Yes, Mistress?"

Hope dropped a fist against the fluffy pillow beside her head, glaring at the ceiling. "Did you open those curtains?"

"Yes, Mistress," Mindy said in a rather unrepentant manner which greatly irritated Hope.

"Why, Mindy? Why?" Hope complained, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes only to yelp in surprise as the blankets were yanked off. "Mindy!"

"Mistress needs to get up," Mindy pressed. "It's Christmas and Mistress needs to get dressed before Mistress' cousins show up."

It was times like these that Hope regretted staying up late into the night.

"Fine," she grumbled, pulling herself out of the bed in order to grab some clothes that made Mindy click her tongue slightly, though still maintaining her silence despite not liking denim for an heiress, but Hope was going ice-skating later, and it was cold.

In a short amount of time Hope was clean and dressed, her hair short and red and her eyes as blue as Aggie's. Retrospectively, Hope realized that she could've looked like Aggie's twin.

"Merry Christmas, Remus!" she called when she descended the stairs almost right after him and he turned back slightly in order to smile and bring an arm up to rest around her shoulders.

"Merry Christmas," he said, echoing her words as they came into the sitting room where the Christmas tree was set up, presents settled beneath its branches. There were several there, some for Hope's friends, some for the Blackwoods, and one for Remus, as Hope's couldn't have fit under the tree if he'd squeezed it.

Remus sat down heavily on the couch with a wince, and Hope cast an eye over him.

"You know…peppermint would be good for that leg," Hope mentioned lightly. "Or Devil's Claw."

Remus gave her a wry smile. "It's not so bad," he said, but Hope didn't quite believe him. She still brought his gift to him and sat down beside him as he carefully tore the wrappings from the gift.

He smiled at the book on Dark creatures that he had debated about buying the past week when he and Hope had been out shopping. "You didn't have to," he said and Hope gave him a quelling look that could've come from Lily.

"It was either that or a placard that said Professor R.J. Lupin. I flipped a coin."

Remus couldn't help but laugh. "It's perfect, Hope, thank you."

Hope grinned before clapping her hands together excitedly. "What about mine?"

"You'll have to wait until your cousins come by, since they were partially involved," he said, amused by how much her face fell. "Don't look so down, Hope, they'll be here in less than an hour."

"Still," Hope grumbled, slumping back against the couch. "I'm not very patient."

How could James' daughter be any less?

It was freezing and Aggie automatically hated Wales. It never got this cold in Greece, but then Greece was a bit further down. But even at its coldest, she'd only had to wear a jacket, yet here she needed to wear a full coat in order to keep from freezing to death.

"Why is it so cold?" she grumbled into her scarf as the group trudged up to the manor. "Why couldn't we've taken the Floo."

"Because," Thalia said with an amused smile, unwavering in the cold weather, "it would do you good to know how to find Hope's place from the road. We're nearly there."

Dianthe's eyes glittered as she kept her arm looped at the crook of Galen's elbow, all too familiar with Aggie's muffled complaints as her boyfriend rolled his eyes towards her when they made it to the porch in order to bang the knocker.

The door flew open almost immediately and Hope's grinning face was framed in the doorway. She looked a bit different from the day previous, but Galen had mentioned that she was a Metamorphmagus, so that explained the change in hair and eye color. She could've been Aggie's twin sister.

"You're almost late!" Hope said, still grinning, only to laugh as Aggie threw her arms around her.

"Warmth!" Aggie declared, pressing her icy cheek against Hope's, making the girl squirm away as the Blackwoods (and one Floros) piled into the foyer gratefully, bag swaying dangerously on an arm. "Why do you live so far out? It's ridiculous!"

"The Potter Lands stretch for miles." Hope gave a helpless shrug. "And I guess they were a bit paranoid about people getting through the wards."

"That doesn't sound like you at all," Galen said dryly as he shrugged off his cut and hung it on the rack before helping Dianthe with hers.

"Oi!" Hope complained. "This is my house!"

"It's not really a house, if we're being perfectly honest," Galen pointed out and Hope pushed at his arm with a scowl while Dianthe and Thalia laughed and Aggie snorted loudly.

"Dianthe, really, how can you put up with an old sod like this?" Hope appealed to the blonde of the group.

Dianthe appraised her boyfriend. "I like to think he has some redeemable qualities."

An outraged expression morphed onto Galen's face. "Dia! How can you say that! I thought you loved me!"

Dianthe made a 'so-so' gesture with her hand and Galen looked positively heartbroken as his family laughed around him.

"Come on," Hope curled her fingers towards them in a 'come hither' sort of gesture, "Remus' waiting in the sitting room. Mindy can take the food."

Mindy the house-elf appeared in a single moment and the Blackwoods tried not to be surprised by her appearance, because even they were from an old family, they didn't have the same luxury as Hope to have a house-elf, though that wasn't very uncommon in Greece.

Mindy took the bag from Thalia before disappearing in what could only be assumed was the direction of the kitchen.

Aggie moved quickly in order to fling herself onto the floor right in front of the fire, much to the amusement of her family, warming her hands by the fire.

Hope rolled her eyes as the others greeted Remus where he was sitting.

"Remus, darling, how are you?" Thalia inquired, coming to sit beside him and Remus blinked, vaguely startled.

"Remarkably well, Thalia, and you?"

Thalia smirked and everyone stared at the pair of them as though they were the strangest thing the world had to offer.

"When we were out to tea our waitress thought we were together," Remus tried to offer an explanation. "Thalia decided the best course of action would be to call me 'darling' very sarcastically."

Hope snorted loudly. "That's great."

"You haven't met Aggie or Galen yet," Thalia added as Hope pulled her presents from under the tree in order to hand them out to her cousins, aunt, and one for Dianthe.

"Hi!" Aggie said brightly from the floor, grinning widely at him while Galen gave a mock salute.

"Aggie, you're going to burn yourself," Galen warned.

"No, I'm not!"

Listening to the brother and sister pair berate each other brought a smile to Hope's face even as Dianthe said: "You didn't need to get me anything, Hope, we've barely met."

"It's a good thing I didn't put much thought into it, then." Hope's eyes glittered, turning hazel just briefly before returning to the same blue they'd been when she'd answered the door and Dianthe unveiled a silver knife with her initials engraved close to the hilt.

Dianthe's smile softened. "Not much thought, hm?"

Hope smirked as Thalia held out a slender wrapped gift to Remus, much to his surprise. And he pulled the packaging aside in order to see a desk wedge bearing the name Professor R.J. Lupin.

His lips twisted and he mouthed a thank you to Thalia, who inclined her head slightly with a smile of her own.

"Nice, Hope!" Galen waved the new wand holster with a grin. He might've mentioned he was thinking about getting a new one to Aggie, who had then passed the information along to Hope.

Hope plopped down to sit in front of Aggie while Thalia admired her gift of small black pearl earrings enchanted to protect against minor poisons.

Aggie had pulled free several leafs of parchment across which the words of the first two chapters of Morea's book had been copied, bound together rather haphazardly. She frowned in befuddlement. "What's this?"

"Well, you wanted to learn about Earth Magick, right?" Hope asked and it really was something else to see Aggie's face positively light up. Not many people actually approved of the art, and much less were excited about the prospect of learning it. "I didn't want to give you the whole book, you know, since I haven't finished it yet. But when I'm through, it's all yours."

The breath was thrust out of her chest suddenly as Aggie threw her arms around Hope once more, tight enough to bruise her ribs. "Thank you, thank you! It's perfect! It makes my gift look like nothing…"

"Oh, shut up," Hope laughed, "I told you that you didn't have to get me anything!"

But she still took the small package that Aggie extended to her, unwrapping the present and smiling. It was a beaded bracelet with a single bronze charm in the shape of the pentagram.

"They're a pair," Aggie said, lifting her own wrist when Hope slid the bracelet onto her own. "Cool, huh?"

"Pretty sweet," Hope agreed.

"Now it's your turn."

Hope blinked in surprise. She'd almost forgotten that there was a gift that they were all conspiring on, and she only remembered when Galen dropped his hands over her eyes. "Oh, come on!"

"I don't think you really have to blindfold her," Remus chuckled off to the side as a pair of hands, smaller and smoother than Galen's –Aggie's she presumed–, helped pull her into a standing position. "She already knows its outside."

"It's more of the principle of the matter!"

"Gal, you're going to make her walk into something if you're not careful," Dianthe mentioned while Thalia chuckled, at least, it sounded as though it was Thalia chuckling, but Hope couldn't really be sure with her eyes covered.

"Babe, I've got this covered," Galen assured her.

"That doesn't make me feel better," Hope felt the need to point out.

"Your opinion doesn't really matter at this point," Galen said wryly.

"Galen," Thalia spoke her son's name with a loud sigh.

"What? I'm just saying it like it is!"

Hope would've rolled her eyes if they'd been open, but she settled for a rather exaggerated pout.

"What way are we going?" Aggie asked loudly before things to devolve any further.

"Allow me," Remus' tired voice mentioned and Hope frowned briefly. Remus had been very tired lately, and Hope couldn't help but think the full moon had taken more out of him than usual. The winter months were the worst, she knew from the previous year. Of course, none of the full moons were very good for him, but it was at least a bit easier in the summertime.

A worn and calloused hand reached out and took her hand. "Are you ready?"

"You aren't going to let me run into anything, are you?" Hope asked with a grin, arching an eyebrow against Galen's hand.

"I'll do my best not to," he promised with a soft chuckle, squeezing her hand and leading her forward with difficulty as Galen stumbled around behind her, trying not to trip over her and keeping his hands firmly over her eyes, even though Hope thought it was just a bit much.

"Are you all right with stepping outside in what you're wearing?" Remus asked her suddenly. "I didn't think about that…"

Hope was still wearing her boots, and she was wearing a jumper, so it wasn't as though she was stepping out into the cold with no shoes and no sleeves.

"As long as it's not that long," Hope said decisively and there was a click of the back door and Hope was hit with a blast of cold air. It almost made her change her mind, stumbling after Remus in the snow to what she was almost completely sure to be the greenhouse…but what was so special about the greenhouse? Hope hadn't spent hardly any time in the greenhouse since their lessons had concluded that spring.

It was humid when Remus managed to pull her inside the greenhouse, which was a relief.

"I hope you lot didn't mess up my greenhouse," she mentioned lightly as they moved through an aisle, which made it a bit difficult for Galen to keep his hands over her eyes, but evidently he was up to the challenge.

"Not too much." She could hear the grin in Remus' voice and it made her scowl as they passed through something that felt uncommonly as though they'd walked through a thick spider web.

"All right," Remus said a moment later and the weight over her eyes lifted, though she kept her eyes closed. "You can open your eyes now."

Hope opened them slowly, blinking a few times in the light in order to look around the greenhouse, but it looked rather unfamiliar to her, with a lack of magical plants. Nothing within had razor sharp leaves or vines threatening to strangle you, which might've explained why Hope hadn't come back to the greenhouse in awhile.

"I had it expanded," Remus explained helpfully, "there's a separation between this part and the magical plants since you said it wasn't very good to mix those two…the Blackwoods helped me with the seeds and the dirt."

"Remus had most of it done when we helped out," Thalia pointed out with a wry smile, "we just gave him a few pointers and seeds."

Hope played with the leaves of a peppermint plant, silent for a moment before she looked back to them, beaming impossibly wide.

"It's perfect," she said and she meant it.

There was an entire section in Morea's book on potions made with non-magical plants but were no less magical than their counterparts, and Hope had bemoaned rather loudly that they didn't have a greenhouse for non-magical plants and since it was the only thing Hope had really asked for, there wasn't much space for Remus to go wrong.

The section of the greenhouse was large and there were small signs stabbed into the dirt to tell what each plant was if she couldn't recognize them, but Hope only knew a few of them from memory and appearance.

"It's wonderful," she added, moving around in a circle to take it all in, her eyes sweeping over the tilled earth, the sprouting plants…it really was absolutely perfect.

Hope was impatiently waiting for the food to be either cooling under a preservation charm or cooking in the oven, but then all was said and done and all the kids were out the door with their boots on their feet, in the process of fastening their coats on with fumbling fingers tucked inside gloves, holding onto their ice skates as they stumbled over the snow.

Hope's were new, not broken in yet, and she had a lot of doubts about her ability to remain standing on a sheet of ice, but she'd still give it a go.

There was a lake that was a bit further inward into the forest. It wasn't like the banks of the sea, but at least it was more solidly frozen, so that was a plus.

Aggie skidded on ice and squealed before Hope grabbed her arm, laughing as she tugged her in the right direction.

"This place is like a maze," Galen grumbled when they sat down on the broken log at the edge of the lake. "How do you even know where you're going?"

Hope gave him an odd look. "I live here."

Dianthe snorted as Galen rolled his eyes. "Oh, so you know where everything is, then?" Dianthe had finished lacing her ice skates so she stepped onto the ice and began skating around on the ice, helping Aggie stumble onto the ice, but once the skates made it onto the flat surface, she didn't have nearly as much of a difficult time.

"No." Hope rolled her eyes. "But I know where some things are, which is pretty helpful, you know."

Galen chuckled before stepping onto the ice as Hope finished lacing her skates, stood, and promptly fell on her behind. "And here I thought you weren't very clumsy!"

"Galen Erasmus Blackwood," Hope said shortly, resorting to a glare, "standing on skates isn't one of my chief skills, I'll have you know, and I'm not very clumsy."

He gave her a look that couldn't have made it clearer that he didn't believe her in the slightest, but he still held out his hands and Hope took them gratefully, allowing him to stabilize her as she stumbled up onto the ice.

Retrospectively it was the worst decision Hope had made since the day had begun.

"Ohmigods, ohmigods, ohmigods!" She clutched frantically to Galen's arm. "I'm going to die!"

Galen wasn't the only one laughing, but Hope couldn't really focus on that, she was trying –and failing– to remain upright. "You're not going to die," he admonished, "worst case scenario, you fall on your ass."

Hope cast a venomous glance in his direction. "And you wonder why Aggie's my favorite."

Aggie giggled as she came around to Hope's opposite side, looping her arm through Hope's in order to tear her away from the stability that Galen's arm had provided.

Hope yelped and fell in a single smooth movement, the cold of the ice burning through her jeans to her skin.

But Aggie knelt in her skates with what could've only been practiced ease in order to help Hope to stand once more.

"This is actually worse than I'd originally thought," Hope grumbled and Aggie grinned widely.

"It gets better," was all she said, "once you learn to block out Galen."

Both girls looked to where the boy was spinning in circles around his girlfriend while her peals of laughter pierced the air. Hope thought it was a bit detrimental, because eventually Galen was going to run into Dianthe, skating like that…but that was none of her business.

"Just take it a step at a time," Aggie advised with an easy smile, "you'll be spinning circles around us soon."

"I doubt that," Hope muttered, her feet sliding out from under her control and it bothered her a bit more than she'd been anticipating.

There was nothing more disconcerting than not being able to stand properly, but she allowed herself to be pulled along gently by Aggie as frigid wind brushed against their cheeks, turning them pink as they laughed until Galen jeered them into a race that resulted in Hope knocking into Dianthe and both crumpling into a pile.

"They sound like they're having fun," Thalia mentioned with a smile when she heard the laughter echoing in the air, before pulling the window shut in order to return to where Remus was sitting, reading the newspaper. "You, not so much."

Remus cast a glance to her over the top of the paper. "I'm an old man, Thalia."

"Poppycock," Thalia said, grinning with the use of the word, "you're not that old, Remus."

He arched an eyebrow. Thalia was older than him, though only by a few years.

"Is it the transformations?" Thalia asked curiously as she sat down beside him once more. "Are they getting harder?"

"They're always difficult in the winter," Remus sighed, folding the Daily Prophet up once more; it wasn't as though there was anything of particular importance in the news that day. "My transformation was two weeks ago, but I still feel exhausted."

"Maybe you've been having a bad two weeks," Thalia suggested and he arched an eyebrow. "I'm just saying that maybe it isn't your lycanthropy that's exhausted you so much, maybe it's something else, maybe your body's fighting off an infection, maybe it's something else, who knows."

Thalia looked over him with a calculating eye. His face was as scarred as it had been when she'd first met him, but the cheeks had a pale undertone that were faintly flushed, almost as though he had a fever.

"Your body might respond to illness differently because of your lycanthropy," she conceded.

Remus frowned thoughtfully and the pair descended into a comfortable silence with the smell of the food cooking in the air and the warmth of the fire spreading over them.

"Aggie wants to spend the night," Thalia confided after a few moments had passed and Remus, whose mind had begun to wander, forced his attention back to her once more.

"Does she?" Remus asked in surprise.

He knew that Hope liked her, of course, it wasn't as though there were many young witches or wizards that Hope was friends with that had an actual interest in Earth Magick. Hermione and Daphne had never really expressed an interest in learning it, though it being a magic that was in a grey area probably didn't help matters, but Remus didn't think Daphne at least cared about that sort of classification. And if one of them was going to be interested in Earth Magick, it was probably going to be Daphne.

"Would you mind too terribly if she did?" Thalia asked him.

"Wouldn't it be more up to you?" Remus pointed out. "She is your daughter, and you don't know me or Hope as well."

"I think I know Hope just a bit better than I know you, to be honest." Her eyes glittered and Remus tried very hard not to roll his eyes. There was something about her that made him think that if Lily had still been alive, she would've liked Thalia very much.

Thalia who was firm and open and trusting as she was suspicious and careful. It hadn't taken very long for him to discover her character; she wore it exposed on her sleeve.

"She's probably likely to get into less trouble over here than at home," Thalia admitted a bit sheepishly.

"That's very comforting," Remus said dryly and Thalia laughed.

The Christmas lunch had left them all stuffed, and Aggie had managed to convince her mother and Remus –though, they were relatively open to the idea, so that was a plus– into letting her stay the night, so Hope and Aggie found themselves late into the night lounging around in front of the blazing fire.

"It must be nice to have the place all to yourself," Aggie said, looking around the sitting room. "Potter Manor is huge!"

"It's kind of lonely," Hope admitted, "having Remus here is nice, though. I was on my own with Mindy for a little while before he showed up."

Aggie took a sip of her hot chocolate with a soft hum as Hope spread the tarot cards in front of her, allowing her cousin to consider her.

"Hope?"

"Hm?" Hope hummed slightly, her focus still on the cards.

"What d'you believe in?"

Hope's lips turned downwards and a crease formed between her eyebrows. "You mean like the gods?"

"I guess," Aggie said.

"I believe in Death," Hope smirked, "I think it's kind of requirement for us, don't you think?"

Aggie laughed, even though it wasn't really what she meant.

"Eventually everyone dies," Hope continued, "it's not something you can outrun…but I might be sucking up to Grandfather, you never know."

Aggie positively cackled, throwing her long plait over one shoulder. "You're so terrible!"

"You know you love me," Hope grinned widely. "Now pick a card! Actually, pick three, that's usually how it goes…"

"Which spread are you doing?" Aggie inquired, furrowing her brow as they both looked to the book on tarot interpretations that Hope had open, lying next to both of them.

Hope frowned briefly, eyes narrowing on the two pages over the list of various three card spreads that could be done. "Mother, father, self," Hope decided a moment later and Aggie gave her an odd look that Hope missed while looking over the page.

Aggie considered the various cards in front of her, before choosing one closer to the left, and then another in the center, before the last in the center of the left, giving them to Hope.

"All right," Hope said, giving a small click of her tongue as she flipped one over, each after the other. "For 'mother' you have the Empress, which represents creation and the maternal spirit, happiness, nurturing in the home…sounds a lot like your mum, to be honest."

Aggie snorted but her smile faded as Hope flipped the second card. "Okay, for 'father' you have the Devil inverted which means…" She consulted the book once more, eyebrows reaching high onto her forehead, making the scar wrinkle just a bit. "True evil, uncontrollable ambition and greed."

"Sounds about right," Aggie said shortly.

She didn't like to think about her father, if Nileas Ganis could even be considered her father, she and Galen thought he'd long since forfeited that right; he'd forfeited it the day he'd walked out on them.

"I'm sure there's a lot of other meanings," Hope offered in what she thought might've been a helpful manner, "this is only really beginning tarot, there's probably a lot of way to interpret it…"

"It's pretty spot on, Hope, don't worry about it."

Hope couldn't help but look a bit awkward, and Aggie could understand why she did, after all, Hope lacked a father too, but that was because he'd been killed, not because he'd forsaken his family. Hope had gotten lucky with having a father that actually wanted her in return.

"What's the last one?" she asked instead, to get both their minds off Nileas Ganis.

And Hope flipped it. "'Self' is Temperance. Balance and patience, and coordination. You have a balanced temperament and views."

"What d'you usually draw for yourself?" Aggie asked curiously as Hope reshuffled the deck to pull out one card of herself.

Hope didn't answer her for a moment in order to choose the card on the top of the deck and flip it over.

"Death," she said with a bit of a sigh. "Of course, it's not really that literal…Death's really just change, but it keeps switching between upright and reversed."

"Do Daphne and Hermione believe in Divination?" Aggie asked as Hope reshuffled the deck and replaced it in the box, shutting the tarot book as she did so.

"Hermione doesn't, or she at least believes in it very little," Hope had to correct herself, "but Daphne's family's from Greece, there's been a Seer in her family before, so she knows better."

Of course, there was nothing wrong with not believing in Divination…with Trelawney as a Divination professor, it was hard to take the subject seriously.

"I'm guessing you believe in Divination," Hope tossed a smirk in Aggie's direction.

"Some of it," Aggie agreed. "But there's a lot of fakers out there, too."

Hope hummed in agreement, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "I think it's interesting…but I don't think it should be the most important thing. It's only a part of Earth Magick."

Aggie flipped through the pages of Morea's book with interest. "This thing is really cool…I can't believe that Morea Avis wrote it all by herself." Her fingers traced over the delicately drawn pictures across the pages.

Hope grinned. "You'll probably have it in a year or so."

Aggie shot her an eager grin before going back to flicking through the pages, allowing Hope's face to settle into a contemplative mask.

"Hey, Aggie?" she inquired.

"Hm?" Aggie gave a soft hum to indicate that she was still listening.

"Does Grandfather visit you lot often?"

That made Aggie glance up before returning her attention to the pages. "You mean Thanatos? From time to time, yeah…why?"

"Does he give you cryptic advice?" Hope had to ask, and Aggie actually looked up from the pages.

"Did he say something weird?" she asked.

"Just a bit," Hope admitted, tilting her head to look to the high-reaching ceiling with the shadows from the flickering fireplace wavering and weaving on the walls. "Do you know anything about the top of the Slytherin family tree?"

"I know that Morea's family was from Greece and she had two sisters…she was more of free spirit, so she went off traveling and ended up in the eastern side of England, that's where she met Salazar. Of course, he fell in love with her immediately of course, but Morea wasn't as interested."

Hope snorted as Aggie waggled her eyebrows for good measure.

"Eventually she fell in love with him and they got married and had two kids, Nelda and Adrian…when Nelda was legal, she left and became a sea-witch and met Damian Blackwood and they fell in love and got married—"

"I get the feeling you might be glossing over a few key details," Hope poked her in the shoulder.

"Eh," Aggie gave a careless wave of her hand, "what's it really matter?"

That made Hope's laughter echo around the room.

"At some point Adrian got into the Dark Arts," Aggie continued, "and he decided it would be a good idea to kill his sister and his brother-in-law and his mother."

"Yeah, but do you know what ever happened to Adrian?"

"I thought his father killed him," Aggie admitted with eyebrows raising high on her forehead. "He died, what, a month after the rest of them? And Salazar raised his grandson…why?"

"I think something happened to Adrian…something bad." Hope's fingers tapped against the floor. "Grandfather called it 'the tragedy of Adrian'…but he didn't really explain."

"I think Thanatos likes being…odd," Aggie decided.

Hope couldn't help but agree as they fell into another brief silence while they slurped their hot chocolate thoughtfully.

"How're you with the sword?"

Hope blinked. "How am I—? What?"

"Or do you like the bow better?" Aggie's eyes had gained a manic gleam.

That made Hope look at her oddly before the realization dawned on her. "This is about you and Galen with your extracurriculars, isn't it?"

"It's a Blackwood family tradition," Aggie corrected. "We started training when we were kids, you should too, you never know when a sword or bow'll come in handy."

It sounded like something that Thalia would've said.

"Seen any monsters lately?" Hope grinned widely.

"I saw a harpy when I was eight."

That made Hope stall. "What? Seriously?"

Aggie nodded seriously. "Aegean Iron is the only thing that sends them back to Tartarus. Mum says there were more back during Ancient Greece, but that was because the Gates of Tartarus were still open…of course, monsters aren't supposed to get out now because they're shut, but Mum thinks there might be a few cracks in the Gates. But the monsters that get through aren't very strong."

"The Gates of Tartarus?" Hope repeated, arching an eyebrow.

The blue-eyed witch bobbed her head again. "I think they were opened again a couple of centuries ago and Thanatos' great-granddaughter died to shut them…it's all very mysterious." She waggled her fingers at Hope for good measure.

"I think Greece is more fantastical than I'd first thought," Hope decided after a moment of deliberation.

"What? You don't want to kill a monster?"

"I think at this point," Hope said dryly, "the monster would be killing me."

Aggie made a hand gesture which was clearly to say: "Eh, so-so."

"Are you making this up?" Hope wondered, eyeing her cousin with a look that made Aggie draw a hand to her chest, looking appropriately stunned.

"How could you say such a thing?" she demanded. "I tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!"

"Sounds like something you got off the telly!"

Aggie shrieked with laughter as Hope pushed her onto her side, all the while claiming that she hadn't told a lie, but Hope knew better, or at least, she thought she did.

"Ohmigods!" Hope said loudly. "You are trying to give me nightmares, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't do that!"

But Aggie's grin betrayed her. Thalia probably wouldn't have approved, especially Hope's side of the family hadn't dealt with mythical difficulties in quite some time. Maybe it was better that way.

Things were generally very quiet at Potter Manor, since there were only three of them living there on a regular basis. Of course, not interacting for days wasn't necessarily uncommon, but they did all tend to talk from time to time, it wasn't something that could be avoided, even with a house –and she was using that term lightly– as big as Potter Manor was.

Still, Hope had a tendency to jump at any sudden noises when she was so used to the silence, so when Mindy herself known, she almost jumped out of her skin behind a pile of books situated on one of the tables in the library almost in a barrier formation.

"Mistress?" Mindy said patiently once Hope's racing heart had calmed. "A letter for you."

She held out a tray with a single letter perched on it in what was far more dignified than Hope could ever hope to be.

A frown creased her brow as she took the letter from Mindy, allowing her to skip off to her own business. It was Hope's name in dark ink in a familiar hand and when Hope flipped it around in order to break the seal and pull the letter free, it made a bit more sense.

She and Narcissa Malfoy hadn't exchanged many letters, but they had spent a short amount of time in each other's presence to like each other well enough.

The letter was basically an invitation to a sort of magical nobles club, almost entirely Pure-blood, she was sure, called Elysian Fields, which Hope suspected was the owner's way of sounding classy. The name would've been better suited for a club in Greece was all that she was saying.

Remus wouldn't approve, probably, but, then again, he never approved of anyone who was any way related to Death Eaters.

"Mindy," Hope called out into the silence, "I'm going to need a dress that's acceptable for Elysian Fields."

Mindy didn't answer her, of course, but when Hope finally made her way upstairs later that day to look for something in her room, she would find the dress set out with an appropriate level of accessories, but, as she'd predicted, Remus didn't approve.

"It's my decision," she said sourly that night while she was sorting through the varying books in her room, deciding which ones could be returned to the library and which ones she wanted to keep in her room.

"The wife of a Death Eater seems like a poor choice of company," Remus pointed out.

Hope wrinkled her nose. Of course, she could understand where Remus was coming from and she didn't particularly like Lucius Malfoy, if at all, and she didn't interact very much with Draco even though they were in the same House and the same age, but Narcissa was much more open.

"We can't help who we marry," Hope said decisively. "Besides, it's basically just tea at a fancy restaurant."

It was a bit more than that, but Remus didn't argue, even as he thought it was in James' nature to be too trusting.

The Elysian Fields was visually stunning as Mindy apparated her there, with the large foyer holding a dangling and lit chandelier swinging just barely above her head and gleaming marble floors and arches, with an impeccably dressed man standing behind a podium and he wasn't surprised by her arrival, it was only when his eyes shifted to her forehead that his eyes positively popped out.

Eleven year old witches in floor-length lavender-colored dresses weren't very impressive, and Hope had made a point of wearing her hair in such a way that it left her scar exposed, so there was no question who she was. The heels Mindy had gifted her with hadn't done much to improve her height, but there was a delicate chain of sapphires around her throat that had been a gift from Narcissa for her birthday earlier that year, which Hope thought that Narcissa would appreciate.

"Heir Potter to join Lady Malfoy," she told the young man simply and he bobbed his head eagerly, stumbling slightly over his words in order to take her cloak and escort her in the direction of the tearoom.

Hope found it just a bit irritating that she had to be escorted, but that was technically the custom.

Narcissa was easy to spot, even where she was sitting in the back, her own dress a pale blue with a comb glittering in her hair which was pulled up in an elaborate twist.

There were many booths in the room, and almost all of them full, and as she passed the booths by, eyes turned to look at her. Hope was used to the attention, though, her name and face always brought it, whether or not it was positive or negative, that was a different matter entirely.

"Lady Narcissa," Hope greeted as she took the seat opposite the woman once Narcissa had inclined her head slightly and given her a small wave of her hand to do so, "I wasn't expecting your letter."

"Can cousins not inquire about each other?" Narcissa's pale eyebrow arched delicately.

"Publicly having tea with each other is not our usual," Hope felt the need to point, "although, we have only had tea together once before."

Narcissa smiled before looking around the tearoom with vague disinterest. "I haven't been to the Elysian Fields in some time…and I thought you could use some time out of your manor."

"What makes you think I haven't been out of the manor?" Hope asked archly as a server approached bearing a tray with a teapot and two respective cups.

"I hope you don't mind that I ordered us some jasmine tea?" Narcissa asked her quickly before he arrived at their booth.

"Not at all," Hope said diplomatically, "I've had it from time to time. I don't mind its taste."

Narcissa spared her an amused glance as their tea was poured and they were left on their own once more, allowing them to continue their previous conversation.

"And have you been out of the manor?"she inquired.

"Barely," Hope admitted after a long moment, "I was in Greece with my cousins for a few hours…we also went ice skating at a lake on my property on Christmas day, so technically, yes, I've been out of the manor."

Hope made it a habit to both make a loophole and integrate as much sarcasm as possible into the statement. It hadn't always worked in her favor with the Dursleys, but Narcissa wasn't the Dursleys, and she might appreciate it just a bit more.

And her lips twisted faintly in amusement as they both sipped their tea quietly.

"My caretaker still doesn't approve of me meeting you," Hope felt the need to inform her, "I think he's a little worried you're planning to kill me."

That got her a surprised look for her troubles. "Not a fan of sugar-coating the truth?" Narcissa mused as Hope took another sip from her teacup, the taste of the tea lingering on the tip of her tongue.

"Sometimes being very straightforward is helpful."

Narcissa released a soft hum. "What do you think?"

Hope considered her silently. Narcissa was as prim and proper as she had always been, at least, whenever she had been in Hope's sight. How you appeared when you were part of an old line was very important, even if Hope didn't like it very much, and Narcissa always looked as you'd expect a noblewoman to look, not a hair out of place.

"I think everyone has their own agenda," Hope said after a stilted moment. "The Malfoy family's reputation went down the drain a little when your husband was found to be a Death Eater…becoming an ally of my family would be beneficial for you."

"It would."

"But I don't think that reputation was really on your mind when we first met," Hope finished, even though she still wasn't quite sure what had been on Narcissa's mind that day. Maybe she'd seen a kindred spirit in her, maybe she'd just been curious.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Narcissa said evasively and Hope almost rolled her eyes.

"Well, if perhaps," Hope said mildly, leaning forward slightly, "is there, perhaps, something you wouldn't mind assisting me with?"

Narcissa cast a curious glance over her. "And what would you require my assistance on, Heir Potter?"

"Well, I am the heiress to an old family line, but I'm also the head of the family," Hope explained. Being head of the family wasn't as impressive when you were the only member of the family, because though she and the Blackwoods were related through the Slytherin line, the Potter family was something entirely different. "If my father was still alive, I wouldn't be needing advice, but there is so much I don't understand about being an heiress."

And for some reason, her honesty made Narcissa smile kindly.

"I would be happy to," Hope was assured, and she smiled in return.

And soon after they finished off the tea and stood, and Hope, ever the overachiever, stood up a bit too fast and bumped slightly into someone who reached out with a hand to steady her at her hip.

"My apologies," Hope said quickly, "I wasn't—"

"It was my mistake," the other corrected and Hope looked up in surprise to see she'd bumped into Cassius Warrington. He was a Slytherin in her year, in fact, he could've possibly been the only Slytherin apart from Daphne that didn't dislike her, though Hope couldn't really be certain; she'd never spoken to him."

"Heir Warrington," she said, inclining her head respectfully.

"Heir Potter," he responded, "or is it Heir Slytherin?"

Hope was so surprised she turned pink, that, and his hand was still steadied at her waist. "That would depend on the day," she said decisively before gently removing herself, bidding him farewell with very few words and making her way back to the foyer with Narcissa at her side with an oddly amused look on her face.

AN: Cassius will be popping up from time to time, and he's going to have a major role in one of the later books ;) I think I'm starting to like him quite a bit, but I've barely written him.

Don't expect any updates anytime soon, though, this chapter wiped me out.

As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

*Chapter 16*: The Muses

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Sixteen: The Muses

AN: There was a surprising amount of excitement about Cassius, which I thought was really interesting. You'll see him from time to time, it's still up in the air if he'll become a major character or not.

"You should move somewhere warmer."

Hope smirked widely. "You're just saying that because you live in Greece year round."

Aggie pried the dagger out of the target that was set up in the ballroom, rolling her eyes at her cousin. "Yeah, but Greece is nice and warm, and it's got lots of ruins that seem like they'd be your thing."

"They probably would be," Hope agreed as she took the small dagger from Aggie's hand.

"Don't hold it too loosely," she warned, "you're releasing it too early."

"Easy for you to say," Hope grumbled, "you've been doing this for awhile." She flicked her wrist and released the dagger. The flat side hit the target and it fell harmlessly to the ground.

Hope stared at it, disheartened. "Well, if that's the best I can manage, I'd better just stick to magic."

"Relying only on magic is a bad idea," Aggie said with a frown as Hope went to retrieve the dagger. "That's how my aunt got killed."

Hope froze, turning the small blade over in her hand. No one ever talked about Aglaia Blackwood, especially not Thalia; Hope got the feeling that she was never going to get over her sister's death.

"I thought she was killed in an explosion," Hope said carefully, a line appearing between her creased eyebrows.

"That's the official report," Aggie agreed with a scowl, taking the dagger and flinging it with a startling accuracy. "Unofficially, someone ran her through with a sword."

Hope's eyes went wide at the admission.

"I never met her," Aggie said, "Blackwoods are trained as partners, one sibling with the sword, the other with the bow, Aglaia and Mum always put it off, training together, but after she died…Mum threw herself into swordsmanship."

Hope could find nothing to say to that. She was no stranger to dead relatives.

"Swordsmanship sounds interesting," she had to acquiesce a few long moments later and Aggie hummed in agreement. "But I do have an estate in Greece," she added, returning to their original conversation, "I was thinking of spending my summer break down there."

It might do Remus some good to be somewhere warm for awhile, but she was thrown by how bright Aggie's beaming smile was.

"Oh, you totally should!" Aggie said brightly. "Dia, Gal, and Mum'll probably be working, but I can show you around! We can see all the ruins and the sea! Ajax isn't into swimming much and it's no fun when you're by yourself."

Ajax Moswell was Aggie's best friend at Athene Academy, they'd apparently met during a tournament the school had hosted between bowmen and crossbowmen, since, evidently, there were enough that were interested in both. Aggie had creamed him in the finals and they'd become friends. There were stranger ways to make friends, Hope conceded, but she didn't mention that.

"One day we should go sailing," Aggie added with a grin, "like Nelda did."

"Nelda had a pirate ship, we don't," Hope laughed as Aggie threw the dagger, moving forward to remove it from the target.

"Ooh, maybe we should find it!" Aggie's eyes gained a manic gleam that almost made Hope take a step back. "Wouldn't that be the greatest? Sailing off in the Siren? The fastest and most elusive ship of the tenth century? The Siren's treasure has never been recovered!"

The Siren was a fascinating ship, Hope had to agree, with an even more fascinating history. The waves of piracy grew in strength from the tenth century to the fourteenth century, reaching their peak in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, so ships like the Siren weren't uncommon. Of course, there weren't very many ships that were manned by witches or wizards. The Siren was the most famous of the few that were, through the writings of one of the Muggles that worked on the ship.

It was one of the few pirate ships that didn't fly a naval flag bearing any part of a skeleton, only an Ouroborus, and the ship itself was the style of what was considered to be the very first Galleon, a name that was taken from the Wizarding gold quite purposefully.

"We don't even know where Nelda hid her treasure," Hope pointed out as she held out her hand for the dagger. "We probably wouldn't even find it."

"So?"

Hope laughed. "Do you even know how to sail, Aggie?"

"Well, no," Aggie admitted, her cheeks flushing faintly, "but I know you don't, either!"

"Yeah, but I'm not really hiding that," Hope snorted. "My point is, even if we found the Siren, wherever it's hidden, we wouldn't be able to sail it."

"I'm sure we could figure it out," Aggie said, waving a hand carelessly. "Don't tell me you don't think about it, sailing away from everything, nothing but the sea around you?"

Aggie gave a dreamy sigh and Hope inhaled deeply, the smell of salt water in the air. "The Call of the Sea is very strong," she said simply.

"Salazar say that?" Aggie asked.

"Salazar says a lot of things," Hope said with a shrug, "he always seems a bit sad when he talks about Nelda running off to sail the seas, though, I think he missed the time they could've spent together."

Aggie frowned. "He sounds like a very sad man."

"I think he is," Hope agreed, "but I think he feels pretty guilty about his son killing his wife and daughter."

"Hm," Aggie hummed thoughtfully as Hope flung the dagger, and this time it lodged in the target, albeit in the furthest ring.

"Yes!" Hope pumped her fist excitedly.

"Oh, you barely made it onto the target," Aggie scoffed as Hope danced forward in order to pull the dagger free.

"Which is the best hit I've had since we started," Hope pointed out with a laugh. "By the way, Daphne and Hermione are coming over later to hang out, want to stick around and meet them?"

Aggie grinned.

They all were talking over each other, describing their current vacations, it was hard for Aggie to keep track of everything, but the pair didn't appear to be having any difficulties with it.

"Oh, this is my cousin," Hope added quickly, dragging the red-head into view, "Aggie, this is Daphne and Hermione."

Daphne was a blonde-haired witch brown from the Greek sun and wearing a very modern peplos, if Aggie did say so herself, but Hermione had her brown hair tied into a French plait and her brown eyes were kind. All three of them together with their varying colours of hair and eyes were rather striking.

"Aggie," Daphne spoke her name smoothly, "you're the other one that's into Earth Magick, right?"

"Is that the only thing you told them about me?" Aggie grinned to Hope, and Hope rolled her eyes for good measure.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Hope swatted her on the arm. "I've told them a lot about you, but that's what they're going to remember the most."

"Mm-hm."

Hermione's eyes gleamed brightly. "It's nice to meet you," she said to Aggie, "Hope's talked about you, obviously."

"Aww!" Aggie poked Hope in the side.

"You can tell she's younger," Hope said with a snort.

"Only by a few months! Besides, I'm a higher level than you in school!"

"That's because you go to Athene Academy, not because you're smarter," Hope retorted easily.

"Well…" Aggie said mildly and both Daphne and Hermione laughed at the outrage on Hope's face.

"I cannot believe that we are related," Hope said decisively and the laughter echoed.

"Are we opening presents now or later?" Daphne asked rather bluntly, holding the two wrapped presents in her arm, and Hermione was similar.

Hope grinned widely before gesturing them back towards the sitting room, where the Christmas tree was still resting in the corner, not yet taken down, with two presents remaining under the tree. Aggie slumped into the armchair and watched as the three friends exchanged their gifts.

"The Art of Divination," Daphne read out with a laugh upon seeing the title of the book, "does this scream me?"

"You wanted a good book on divination that's not like what Trelawney teaches," Hope said with an all too knowing air about her. "I got that book at Corinth Crossroads."

That made Daphne's face turn considering as she looked over the book in her hands.

Hope pulled the wrapping paper aside on Daphne's gift to her and she smiled. The Book of Stars was the title and her fingers smoothing over the silver lettering on the cover, blue and dotted with stars. She flipped it open in order to look over the pages. The constellations were separated by family, which was basically just a collection of constellations that appeared close together on the sky, and each constellation had a page dedicated to the constellation's name and location in the sky.

"This is cool," Hope decided. She liked good old-fashioned star charts, but she had a number of those, she didn't have anything like this, barring her Astronomy textbook, but it was a bit of a bore.

Hope had gotten Hermione a book on protective enchantments that she'd thought suited Hermione well. Hermione had never shown much of an interest in the Ancient Arts like Hope did, or the vague interest in proper Divination, as Daphne did. But Hope knew enough about Hermione to know that the book An Introduction to Apotropaic Magic would be of interest to Hermione.

Daphne, on the other hand, had gotten her some new quills and a candle enchanted to smell like the thing you enjoyed most, and a small book on Divination for Dummies that Hope knew was a joke, based on the glare that Hermione levelled at Daphne.

"Use your inner eye to see into the future," Daphne declared in a misty tone and they all laughed. Aggie had to presume it was some kind of inside joke.

Hermione had gotten Daphne her favourite sweets from Honeydukes, Peppermint Toads, and an old book on potions that hadn't been in Flourish and Blotts when they'd gone by before classes had begun, much to her annoyance, and now Daphne flipped through it eagerly.

And then it was Hope's turn to open Hermione's gift and she parted the wrapping paper in order to reveal a rather simple leather-bound book with a bronze pentagram at the centre.

"It's supposed to be a grimoire," Hermione explained, "I figured once you've mastered Earth Magick, you could write your own book."

Hope's fingers roved over the book, now that was an intriguing thought, and she couldn't help but smile.

"I have something for you," Hope said when her friends had gone and Aggie shot her a look of confusion. "Stay here for a second."

And then she disappeared up the stairs only to return a few moments with a knife in hand. "This is for you," she said, handing it over to Aggie.

Aggie took it out of the sheath and examined it closely. The blade was dark silver in colour, but the hilt was more detailed, resembling a tree branch around which a snake was wound, but even that design was subtle enough that there wasn't much of uneven texture as she held it.

A smile curled her lips. "It's beautiful," said Aggie, her awe reflected in the blade, "whose was it?"

"Morea Avis," Hope said and Aggie's eyes gleamed. "It was shoved into my family tapestry, but I've never had much use for it, besides, it might be more of your style."

Aggie grinned widely.

The Potter Lands were snow-capped, but the edge of the sea rolling in onto the shoreline remained unfrozen, and Hope sat on a craggy stone along the sea, watching the surf, smelling the saltwater.

She hadn't spent a lot of time at the seaside, she hadn't spent a lot of time exploring the forest, either, she always seemed to find herself spending more time in the manor than out of it. Over the summer, though, before they went off to Greece –if Remus was all right with it, but Hope couldn't really imagine Remus not being okay with going somewhere warmer– she'd probably spend a good deal of it outside over the summer.

"Have you turned your interest from earth to sea?" a voice probed and Hope smiled.

"Earth Magick doesn't just involve earth, you know," she said, looking up to grin at Thanatos. He wasn't wearing his usual toga, having exchanged it for a long black ulster coat. He looked very modern, a fact that Hope found very amusing, considering just how old he was. "Wind and sea and flame are included."

His lips curled into a smile of his own. "You remind me of her sometimes, Nelda, you and Aggie both."

"You knew her?" Hope was surprised. It was one thing for Thanatos to be in contact with her and the Blackwoods, and anyone descended from Thanatos before them, but Nelda was before any of his descendents along the Slytherin line.

"Not personally, no," Thanatos conceded, sweeping his coat around him as he sat down beside her. "But her life was quite intriguing, albeit a bit tragic."

Hope could say nothing to that.

"The Call of the Sea is strong," Thanatos said instead. "I'm not surprised that both of you have felt it."

"What's it like out there?" Hope asked, her eyes fixed out at the sea.

"Untamable and tempestuous and turbulent and treacherous," he said and Hope turned her eyes onto him, "but also calm and inviting and mesmerizing and impossibly deep. There are two sides to everything, dearest."

And Hope smiled.

The three girls boarded the train back to Hogwarts the next Monday and Hope bid farewell to Remus, his arms warm and tight around her shoulders, warning her to keep out of trouble even as he pressed a sheaf of parchment into her hands with a wink.

"Hope Potter," a voice said when the train started moving as Hope and the girls looked for a spot to sit and Hope turned around, arching an eyebrow.

"George Weasley," she returned easily.

"I could just kiss you," he said with a wide grin.

Her cheeks turned pink. "Well, don't put yourself out, dearest."

He grinned. "You three are our muses, you know!"

It was a joke, of course, but there was truth to it. The three girls had been fairly inspiring for their pranks, they had played the part of muses and enemies easily.

And it had Hope shaking her head in amusement as she walked past him to join Hermione and Daphne where they'd managed to snag a compartment.

"Shame, I really thought he was going to plant one on you," Daphne said mildly and Hope glared while Hermione stifled her giggles. "Did Remus have any thoughts on the draft for the map?"

"Just a couple of things," Hope said, holding out their rough sketch with his notes on it and what looked like the rough draft of Remus' band of friends' map. "A few tweaks in the spell and it should work, and he thinks we should come up with a sort of cover."

"Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present The Marauder's Map," Hermione read off with an arched eyebrow. "Remus' school friends were rather strange, no offense." She added the last bit towards Hope, since Prongs was Hope's father, but Hope didn't mind.

"What if we did something like that, though?" Hope asked brightly. "You know, used nicknames and had a group name?"

Daphne appeared to be considering it before snorting loudly. "What would we call you? Runespeaker?"

Hope was still obsessed with runes, but that wasn't anything really new; Ancient Runes was her favourite class at Hogwarts.

"It doesn't have to be anything serious," Hope rolled her eyes, "just, you know, something to put on the paper. Besides, Remus says it's a good idea to have an alias on parchment, in case we get caught with it, and we can always change it later."

"It's not against the rules to have a map," Hermione pointed out, still reading over Remus' corrections.

"Yeah, but this one's got a good bit of the secret passageways listed," Daphne pointed out. "People probably don't want those getting out."

"And you'd call Hope 'Runespeaker'?" Hermione replied dubiously. "And we'd call you, what, Frostbite?"

Hope smirked. Daphne was becoming slightly infamous in Slytherin House for her cold shoulder and frosty demeanour towards people she didn't like, which just so happened to be most of Slytherin.

"It's not a bad name," Daphne admitted thoughtfully and Hope and Hermione laughed. "And we should call you…Silvertongue."

"Silvertongue? Why?"

"You talk your way around things," Daphne pointed out, "honest and evasive."

"You could just say she's a good liar," Hope mentioned.

"I'm trying to compliment her!"

"I think the only thing you're doing is confusing her," Hope said, looking over Hermione who did indeed look somewhere caught between confused and flattered.

"George called us a bunch of muses," Hope added a moment later and both of them looked at her.

"What?" Hermione laughed. "Why?"

"I assume because we're inspiring." Daphne fluttered her eyelashes at Hermione who scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Merlin, you're terrible!"

"What if," Hope said loudly to draw their attention back to the matter at hand, "it was…Messrs Silvertongue, Runespeaker, and Frostbite Purveyors of Aids to Magical Intrigue are proud to present The Muse's Map."

"It sounds so weird," Daphne wrinkled her nose, but then she grinned a moment later, "but I like it."

"She's implying that we're men," Hermione pointed out, as 'Messr' was the plural of 'Mr'.

Hope shrugged her shoulders. "It sounds better than 'Misses'.

"There is that," Daphne agreed before bringing out a new leaf of parchment and tapping her wand to it and saying "Creo tabula castellum."

And they watched as ink spread across the parchment, forming the corridors and hallways of the castle.

The very first day of the week preceding the full moon, Mindy brought Remus lunch (when he'd returned to the manor during his lunch break from his day job) with a goblet that was smoking eerily.

"Mindy," he said, eyeing it carefully. "What is this?"

Of course, he knew that Mindy would never poison him, she was too kind for that, but, still, he had no idea what the potion smoking in the goblet was.

"A gift from Mistress," Mindy answered stoutly. "One goblet of Wolfsbane potion a day for seven days before the full moon."

She gave a small incline of her head before leaving to do her usual daily chores, leaving Remus gaping in his seat, unable to comprehend what he'd just heard.

That Hope Potter, Hope Potter that complained constantly about her potions class and her potions teacher, Hope Potter that generally preferred potions that were more herbal in nature, had gotten up one day and had proceeded to make the one potion that would be of value to Remus...it made his heart swell with emotion.

And next to the goblet was a spice jar labelled with cocoa, unsweetened cocoa, no doubt to be an improvement on the taste without being sugar, which he was certain she knew as well as he did made it useless.

Remus wished she was still at the house so that he could hug her so tight that she would feel it in her ribs for days.

What had he done to deserve Hope Potter, he'd never know.

"I don't know how you did it."

The fire was flickering in the fireplace and Hope was sitting in the armchair closest to it, her legs curled under her as she flicked through the pages of a book that Draco didn't recognize. "Did what?" Hope asked shortly without looking up.

"Got my mother to like you."

Hope arched an eyebrow, looking up at long last to level a stare at the grey-eyed wizard. "I found that honesty was the best policy," she said rather blandly before adding, "Heir Malfoy."

His eyes narrowed and his face pinched. He didn't like it, he didn't like Hope Potter, but that wasn't much of a surprise, hardly anyone in Slytherin House liked her because of her status as the famed Girl-Who-Lived. Almost anyone who wasn't in a family that had been allied with Voldemort had simply followed suit with the shunning and distaste.

The distaste must've been quite obvious, because Hope's lips twisted faintly. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

It wasn't much of a guess, more of a statement of fact.

"I don't believe you," he said finally, "you can't be related to Salazar Slytherin."

The idea that the person that the girl that defeated the Dark Lord was Slytherin's heir was completely outrageous, besides, her family had always been allied with Gryffindor House, and what Slytherin would allow that?

"You can believe what you want," Hope said, the flames of the fire reflected in her eyes, giving them an almost orange quality even as she heaved a heavy sigh, returning her eyes to the book in her lap. "I'm used to people not believing a word I say."

Draco's brow furrowed in confusion. "What're you talking about?" he sneered.

"You're a bully," Hope said, rolling her eyes towards him, "almost everyone in this house is, but I'm used to bullies picking on me."

"If you want me to feel sorry for you—"

"I don't give a damn what you think," Hope fired back, shutting her book with a loud snap and standing fast enough that Draco actually had to take a step back. She was barely taller than him, and only because the soles of her boots had a slight heel. "Think what you like, do what you please, but I wasn't lying about being Elpis Slytherin, I don't need to."

Her eyes glowed an unearthly green and the fire behind them blazed brightly and Draco swallowed thickly. "I don't like bullies, Heir Malfoy. The only thing you have currently going for you is that I like your mother."

And then she brushed past him, making her way towards the third years girls' dormitory and Draco was left standing there, feeling very much like he'd received a very subtle threat.

Now that would be very Slytherin of her.

He didn't see the figure of an older boy melting into the shadows, allowing himself a smirk of amusement.

"And would you believe it, I think they hate you more," Daphne mentioned mildly at breakfast, glancing down the table. "Threaten anyone recently?"

"I took a page out of Salazar's book," Hope said as she took a gulp of pumpkin juice and Hermione gaped.

"Tell me you didn't threaten anyone," Hermione said with reproach.

"Eh, threaten is such a strong word," Hope said in an offhand manner.

"Hope!"

"What?" Hope demanded. "All I said was I didn't like bullies, and I guess Heir Malfoy has a big mouth."

"Maybe you should've, you know, just cursed him," Daphne considered, "or Heir Flint! He's worse!"

Hermione spluttered as she looked between her friends. Between the three of them, she was clearly the most level-headed.

"He wasn't around," Hope said with a shrug, "besides, the ones that whisper behind their hands are just as bad as the ones that insult you to your face."

Hope had experience with both. She was 'that Potter girl', after all.

And Hope should've been expecting it when she was walking to Charms later that day and someone threw all of their weight down onto the books she was holding her arms, forcing Hope to drop them to the floor.

The laughter echoed as she knelt in order to pick up her things, glaring at Marcus Flint as he moved past with his usual cronies.

A hand offered her one of her books that had fallen a bit farther away and Hope blinked in surprise, taking in Cassius Warrington.

"Thank you, Heir Warrington," she said simply, taking the book from him.

"Cassius is just fine," he said.

"Then Hope is fine too," Hope retorted and he offered her his hand in order to pull her upright.

He smiled before nodding towards where Flint had run off. "You could always curse them," he said, "I'm pretty sure you've got a few good ones under your belt."

"I'm flattered," Hope said, her lips curling, "but it would be a waste of a spell to use one on people like them."

"Could be useful, though," Cassius said, both eyebrows rising on his forehead. "The silence would be nice."

That made Hope laugh. "I'll keep it in mind," she promised before he inclined his head and started to walk away, leaving Hermione and Daphne to join up with Hope.

"Ooh, I didn't know that you were friends with Heir Warrington!" Daphne's eyes positively gleamed, and Hope didn't like it in the slightest.

"What? We ran into each other over break when I was out at the Elysian Fields with Lady Malfoy," Hope said defensively. "And I do mean ran into each other literally."

Hermione considered him from the back. "Well, I guess he's a little cute."

"Ugh!" Hope groaned loudly. "Is that all you can think about? I guess I should be worried about every guy that speaks to me, because they all might secretly be in love with me!"

"Who's in love with you?" two voices piped up as the Weasley twins made their appearance and Hope turned bright red.

"No one you need to worry about," she said quickly before darting forward, with her friends following quickly after her.

Fred and George shared a look.

"Well," said Fred, "if anyone's going to be in love with her, it's going to be you."

"What?" George spluttered, a pink flush making itself known on his cheeks, though not very obvious. "Why me?"

"Because Angie and I are solid," Fred said quite serenely and George rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

Astronomy was one of the easier classes that Hope had, but she was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open tonight. It was cold and Hope was tired. She'd woken up early, Salazar had been teaching her how to make wind knots, it was a complicated kind of witchcraft that involved the tying of knots with a few wind spells so that when untied, the knots would release a strong gale.

Sailors were known for buying them, or that was what they were known for back when Salazar was young.

"I could kick you if you like," George offered from her right side and Hope almost poked her eye out on her telescope in order to glare at him. "What? I'm just saying, you're barely conscious as it is."

"Is being tired a crime?" Hope asked, scrubbing viciously at her eyes before returning to looking through the telescope.

"Not really," George acquiesced, "but pointing it out is always fun."

Hope almost rolled her eyes as she focused her telescope on the sky, picking out one constellation in particular. "Found Serpens yet, Weasley?"

George groaned. "No," he complained, "I don't think I'm looking in the right place."

Hope leaned back, glancing to where Daphne was trying to help Hermione find an elusive constellation. "Let me have a look," she said finally and George eyed her dubiously, but he still stood in order to let her sit in his place and look through his telescope.

She frowned. The lens was cloudy, warped from prolonged use. If Hope was the wagering sort, she'd surmise that the telescope, like his brother's, was a hand-me-down, but it wasn't in Hope's place to bring that up.

Hope positioned the telescope slightly to the left, shifting it just slightly to what had previously been out of range.

"All right, here it is," she said, "in the middle is Alpha Serpentis and that's the middle Serpens, going North to South."

She stood in order to allow George to look through. "You know too much about Astronomy, Hope."

Hope's eyebrow twitched slightly and she leaned down swiftly. "It might help, George, if you read the chapter on whatever constellations we're supposed to be focusing on in our Astronomy class before it starts."

He didn't look to her, but she could see the smirk. "Where's the fun in that?"

And Hope could only shake her head and roll her eyes as she returned to her own seat.

"Okay, this is the coolest thing we've ever done," Daphne said decisively as they roamed the hallways, looking over their map as they did so. It was open in her hands with Hermione on her left side and Hope on her right, both looking over her shoulders as their names appeared down the hall.

"Well, at least we won't get lost anymore on our way to class," Hermione said rather decisively.

"I'm sure that's the biggest issue we've had," Hope snorted and Hermione threw a look in her direction.

"You're just happy about the shortcut to the library," Hope added, grinning widely and Hermione's cheeks pinked.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

And before they could round the corner, a pair of ginger-haired lads did instead, tucking something under their robes as they did so.

"Well if it isn't our favourite Slytherins and Gryffindor." Fred was grinning widely, and that only made Daphne scoff loudly.

"I've never heard a bigger lie," she said.

"What're you even doing up here?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"The one-eyed witch passage is around the corner," Hope said sagely, before they could come up with something, her eyes looking them over. "Probably just came back from Hogsmeade."

Both of them stared at her, their jaws dropping.

"How d'you even know about that passage?" Fred demanded.

Hope shrugged. "It's one of the seven passages that lead out of the castle: there's that one that goes into Honeydukes' cellar, there's one behind a mirror on the fourth floor that leads into Hogsmeade as well, just barely inside of town, there's the one that the Whomping Willow is planted over that leads to the Shrieking Shack, the one behind Gregory the Smarmy leads just outside the castle at the viaduct entrance, the one on the stairs to the Astronomy Tower leads all the way down to where the boathouse is, there's the one behind the tapestry on the first floor that comes out into the Black Lake, and then there's the one in the clockwork tower that leads off in the direction of that Muggle town opposite Hogsmeade…Dufftown, I think it's called, no, wait, there's one more in the dungeons that leads into the ravine the viaduct crosses."

They'd been staring at her in disbelieving silence for quite a long time, Hope realized. Hermione and Daphne were less surprised; Remus had told them about the first seven passages out of the castle and they all knew that the Whomping Willow passage was the one Remus had gone through on a monthly basis for his transformations.

"When did you find the last one?" Hermione asked intrigued.

"Sal –someone mentioned it to me," Hope said, stumbling slightly. She couldn't very well go around saying that she'd gotten the information from Salazar Slytherin, a man who was revered by Slytherins as much as he was hated by Gryffindors, and a man who was very much dead.

"It took us years!" George spluttered in outrage.

"That's your problem," Hope smirked before darting a hand forward to snatch a folded bit of parchment tucked into the pocket of Fred's robes.

"Hey!" Fred complained, trying to grab it back, only to pause when Hope pulled out her wand and said the choice phrase of: "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And the ink spread across the parchment and Hope smiled.

"Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present The Marauder's Map," Daphne read off before poking Hope in the side, "that's where you got that phrase from! Remus' first draft wasn't complete!"

"Well, obviously she altered it," Hermione said, looking over the cover with interest.

"Hold up!" George waved his hands violently. "Where did you even know that phrase?"

"I know the ones that made the map," Hope said, nonplussed when their eyes widened. "Well, two of them personally. Prongs was my dad, Moony's my caretaker."

Fred was looking at her with something akin to awe. "You're the daughter of a Marauder? You live with a Marauder?"

"Should we tell Remus he has a few fanboys?" Daphne smirked widely. "I'm not sure how he'd feel about that, actually."

"Remus told me about the seven passageways out of the school, he was surprised about the cave in behind the mirror, though, I think that was one of his favourites," Hope mused thoughtfully as she brought the map next to theirs before looking up quickly to the twins. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Wait, you've got your own map?" George asked, curving around with Fred so they were looking over the three girls' shoulders as they compared the two maps side by side in order to see if they'd made any mistakes.

The two maps were practically identical upon first glance, which was impressive to say the least.

"We missed a corridor on the third floor Hermione noted and Daphne pulled out her wand and a few folded pieces of parchment that Remus had left them with, looking for the correct phrase before tapping the map and saying very clearly, "Edu conciliabulum"

The ink spread from where the hall had ended on the map to where it actually ended in the castle.

"You made your own map?" George corrected his words. "Why?"

"Getting lost is a little annoying," Daphne said, "not all of us wander around the castle at night like Hope does."

"Hey!" Hope complained.

"Oh, don't act like that's not true," Daphne said, waving a hand carelessly, "I still remember when you and Hermione ran into that three-headed dog in the middle of the night."

Hermione gave a polite cough. "Actually, that was just me, Hope ran into me afterwards."

"Three-headed dog?"

All three turned around, looking at the pair of lads in surprise like they hadn't been expecting them to still be where they were.

"You're still here? I thought you'd left," Daphne said blankly.

Fred very nearly sighed. "You do have our map," he pointed out, jerking a thumb in the direction of Hope, who was indeed still holding the Marauder's Map.

Hope smiled sheepishly before tapping it with her wand again and saying simply, "Mischief Managed."

Daphne and Hermione watched with interest as the ink that had so clearly spread across the parchment faded as though it had never been there in the first place.

"Can we see yours?" George asked once Fred had snatched the map back from Hope, eyeing her with a caution that said he wasn't going to trust her coming close to the Marauder's Map anytime soon.

"Silvertongue, Runespeaker, and Frostbite?" Fred asked in amusement, glancing towards the girls.

Hope gave a shrug. "They're just codenames in case someone finds the map. We might change them later. We're still making edits."

"The Muse's Map?" George was smiling and Hope didn't like it. "Is that because of what I said to you on the train?"

"I admit to nothing," Hope said, her nose high in the air.

"That three-headed dog on the third floor corridor? Is that what you're talking about?" Fred asked, returning them to their rather brief previous conversation.

"How d'you know about that?" Hermione asked, eyes wide in surprise. "That corridor's forbidden!"

Both twins shared a smirk with one another.

"That might've been the appeal, I think," Daphne said to Hermione, rolling her eyes for good measure. "These two aren't very good at following the rules, remember."

Fred snorted. "Oh, like you are? How many of those pranks were you involved in last term?"

"I think he's speaking," Daphne said very pointedly to Hope and Hermione, acting as though she couldn't hear a single thing that Fred was saying, "but all I hear is—" She made a rather pale imitation of a buzzing noise, waving her hands close to her ears. It was enough to make her friends laugh.

"Do you know who put that three-headed dog there?" Hope asked the twins curious, fairly intrigued.

"No," George actually chuckled, "but one guess who."

Fred sniggered.

"I don't get it," Daphne said slowly.

"Hagrid," Fred explained, "the gatekeeper? He's absolutely mad about dangerous creatures."

"The one that lives in that little hut by the forest?" Daphne asked dubiously and Hope furrowed her eyebrows.

"You've never talked to Hagrid?" Hermione asked in amusement, her eyes glittering as she looked from Hope to Daphne. "Seriously?"

"I spend most of my time in the castle," Hope pointed out, "and mostly in Morea's Room."

"We've all been spending a lot of time in Morea's Room," Daphne responded. "It's nice and private and no one sneers at you, what's not to love?"

"Slytherin common room not much fun?" George presumed.

"I curse my drapes at night so no one is stupid enough to attack me in the night," Hope said dryly, "someone tried that on my first night, it didn't end well for them."

She smiled very sweetly at the pair of them and for the first time in his life, George thought crossing Hope Potter wouldn't end very well for anyone.

Hope had never spoken to the giant of a man that lived in the hut by the Forbidden Forest, but Hermione was far more familiar with him, she saw him often on her way back from Care for Magical Creatures.

Hagrid was tilling the frozen earth of his garden when they dropped by early into February. It wasn't as cold as it had been in the previous weeks, so Hope, Hermione, and Daphne were wearing lighter outdoor clothes. Hope was fighting off a cold, so her reddened nose and flushed cheeks were hidden under her scarf.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Hermione waved her hand, giving the Gamekeeper a bright smile.

He was larger once the girls got closer, Hope noticed. She'd never met anyone taller than Thanatos, and he sometimes increased his height to seem more impressive. Of course, she'd known that Hagrid reached a great height, after all, he had guided them across the Black Lake to Hogwarts, but that had always been a bit of an afterthought .

"Hullo, Hermione," Hagrid said, dark eyes twinkling under bushy eyebrows. "Brought some friends around, eh?"

"This is Daphne and Hope," Hermione said, gesturing towards the two girls.

"Hullo," he said, his eyes shifting to Hope, like most inevitably did. Hope's shoulders tightened. "Yeh probably don't remember me but I'm the one that took you to those Muggles you live with."

Hope's eyes narrowed. "Lived with," she corrected in a muffled voice. "We didn't get along so I left."

Those bushy eyebrows rose on his forehead, but Hope didn't want to talk about how or why she'd left the Dursleys. She'd explained it far too much to far too many people.

"We were told you're the best person to talk to about magical creatures on the grounds," Daphne said, her brow furrowed as she looked him over and the man actually chuckled.

"Aye, I do," he said, beaming.

"Do you know about the three-headed dog on the third floor corridor?" Hope asked archly, leaning her head back slightly in order to free her mouth a bit more some that her words didn't come out as muffled as they had previously.

"So you've met Fluffy?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "That thing has a name?"

"'Course he does," Hagrid retorted gruffly, digging the hoe back into the earth, "he's mine, bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year –I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—" He stopped abruptly, apparently realizing he'd said too much. "Now, don't ask me anymore, that's top secret, that is."

"Probably why Snape ran off during the Troll incident," Daphne said sagely, "that injury to his leg was probably a bite from one of the dog's heads. Maybe he wants whatever's under that trapdoor."

"Rubbish," Hagrid said, frowning down at all three of them. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"Yeah, well he's not exactly a great teacher," Hope scowled. She barely had a passing grade in his class, and it was probably only because of Daphne's help that she was managing to stay afloat.

"You think he might've been the one that you thought cursed you?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

Hope rolled her eyes at the sky. "I didn't think I was cursed, I was actually cursed, remember? I had to purify a crystal and everything!"

"I'm sure there're easier ways to get rid of a curse," Hermione countered.

"No offense, but I trust Earth Magick more than wand-magic."

"Earth Magick is the thing that put you in the hospital during the Troll incident," Hermione pointed out, crossing her arms and looking just a trifle too smug, like someone who knew that they'd proven their point.

"Yeah, but that was a fluke, that was because I was using a spell out of my depth," Hope said shortly, making a nonchalant gesture with her hand.

The pair had clearly forgotten why they'd come down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest to begin with and Daphne rolled her eyes, something that was clearly missed by the other two.

She cleared her throat loudly to bring the attention back to the front and centre as she fixed her eyes on Hagrid. "So you're saying that Snape wouldn't run off and try to get into that trapdoor that dog is guarding?"

That made the gamekeeper frown. "No," he said, "and he wouldn' curse a student. You three best not be meddlin' in this, yeh hear? It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel—"

"Nicolas Flamel?" Hermione repeated and with that Hagrid pointed turned away from them, cheeks ruddy with his irritation with himself for revealing even that much, particularly to three girls that barely knew him.

But Hope curved around him. "Wait," she said quickly, "I have a question about Fluffy, your dog, you said you got him from a Greek?"

The interest appeared to surprise him, but how could Hope not be interested?

Cerberuses were rare in the world, more common in Greece, she knew, but Cerberus was considered a symbol of the Underworld, seen as the three-headed dog that guarded the Underworld to prevent souls from returning to the living.

She knew that Cerberus was a very real dog, because Thanatos had mentioned it once very briefly and with distaste.

"What'd he look like?" she inquired.

"Young," Hagrid said, his brow furrowing again, "dark eyes—"

"Completely black?" Hope guessed, "like this?" Her eyes filtered black, like she had onyx grafted to her eye sockets.

"Yes," Hagrid said, blinking in surprise.

Hope looked to Hermione and Daphne before returning her attention to Hagrid and saying politely: "Thank you for your time."

She hooked her arms with Daphne and Hermione as they made their way back to the castle.

"What was that about?" Daphne asked, arching an eyebrow. "Why does it matter that he got his dog from a Greek with black eyes?"

"Thanatos!" Hermione said suddenly, her eyes wide. "He's got eyes like that."

"It's strange," Hope agreed. "Cerberuses are the children of Cerberus, so—"

"Cerberus is a boy," Daphne pointed out.

Hope waggled her fingers making a face that made her eyes gleam with a manic light. "Magic!"

Daphne snorted.

"There's not many in the world, I guess Grandfather's in charge of finding proper homes for the puppies when they come around." Hope released a small laugh. "That must be fun."

They all shared a laugh at the idea of Thanatos, esteemed god of death, relegated to seller of three-headed puppies.

"But the three-headed dog is guarding something," Hermione said, "something that has to do with someone named Nicolas Flamel…does anyone remember that name from anywhere?"

"I think I read it in a book once," Hope said, screwing her face up in thought, "but I can't remember where…exactly."

Daphne tightened her grip on their arms suddenly. "Come on, let's go!"

"Where?" Hope demanded, rather startled as they were practically dragged back up to the stone courtyard and then in through the large oaken double doors and up the stairs.

"The library, of course!"

Hope looked over her shoulder to Hermione where she was also being dragged along. "She's starting to sound a lot like you."

Hermione shot her a glower. "Coming from the girl who spent just about as much time as I did in the library this year?"

Hope pretended not to hear.

There were too many coincidences that had occurred this year, that much Hope knew. The fact that Daphne had seen Hagrid at Gringotts, removing something from an unnamed vault when one of the vaults was burglarized later that day only to have nothing taken…the fact that one of the corridors was off limits when the previous year it hadn't been (if the Weasley twins were to be believed)…the fact that there was a very large Cerberus positioned over a trapdoor that was hiding something that belonged to Nicolas Flamel…

Far too many coincidences.

Daphne dragged them down the hallway to the library, all three carefully slowing down and turning silent as they stepped through the threshold. Daphne crooked her fingers to her two friends, weaving past a fifth year Hufflepuff that was frantically reading through a book on Arithmancy, evidently already starting to cram for his OWLs.

She led them close to the back where the older books were located, the ones that weren't about recent developments.

Daphne's fingers roved over the spines of the books, clearly looking for one in particular, though which one Hermione and Hope couldn't have been certain until their friend released a murmured "Ah!" and pulled one of the books free. There were a few more precious moments during which she flipped to the right page, and then she held it out to them with a whisper of: "Read this!"

Hope and Hermione took it from her, holding the book's weight evenly between the two of them as they read:

A Short Synopsis of Alchemy:

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. An incorrect assumption was that the Stone could turn a base metal such as lead to gold or silver, when it can only turn metal to gold. The Philosopher's Stone has been a symbol of enlightenment or complete perfection, another reason for alchemists' to strive to create it.

There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera-lover, who celebrated his six-hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six-hundred and fifty-eight).

Their eyebrows rose high on their forehead. Both of the properties that the Philosopher's Stone possessed made it something that would be highly sought after. Being able to live forever, or as long as you had an endless supply of the Elixir of Life, and being able to turn any metal to gold? That was definitely something worth killing over, well, for some.

"So, it's definitely likely that they're hiding the Philosopher's Stone in the castle," Hope murmured quietly.

"That's completely insane," Hermione hissed under her breath. "It was clearly fine in Mr. Flamel's hands, why bring it here after all this time?"

"No idea," Daphne said quietly, "but I think it's safe to say someone in the castle wants it."

"Snape?" Hope surmised. She'd like it if he was an actual villain, that would give her a good reason to hate him, though being an arrogant toerag that bullied his own students certainly wasn't making him into a good man.

"Maybe," Hermione hummed, "or maybe someone else."

But none of them appeared to know who it could be if it wasn't Snape. It was something they were going to have to sleep on.

The fire in the fireplace in Morea's Room was flickered as the girls each did their own work in silence.

Hermione was growing steadily more annoyed with her Divination class that Hope was actually impressed that she hadn't walked out by now. Divination, proper Divination, was of more interest to her and Daphne than it was to Hermione that Hope was still surprised that she'd taken the class in the first place, but she'd probably thought it was a good idea at the time, broadening her horizons.

Hope, on the other hand, was putting the finishing touches on her essay for Transfiguration.

"Hey, Hope?" Daphne asked, flipping through one of Hope's books on Greek mythology that she'd left lying around Morea's Room.

Hope gave a hum to indicate that she was listening, still scratching out words onto the parchment.

"I like the map being called the Muse's Map," Daphne said carefully, as though she was worried how Hope would react. "But I was wondering if you'd be all right with changing the names?"

Hope looked up and snorted. "Those names were more like placeholders, really. I came up with them on the fly…did you come up with something better?"

Fortified with the knowledge that Hope wasn't firmly against the idea, Daphne slid off the couch she was sharing with Hermione and onto the floor next to Hope as she set aside her essay to dry before she could roll it up.

"Okay, so according to the Greek Myths the Muses are inspirational goddesses of literature, science, the arts, right?" The question was rhetoric, obviously, and Hermione paused in scowling at her dream chart to listen in. "And there are nine Muses, right? There's Calliope for epic poetry, Clio for history, Euterpe for lyric poetry, Thalia—" Hope allowed herself a small smirk at the name of her self-proclaimed aunt. "—for comedy, Melpomene for tragedy, Terpsichore for dance, Erato for love poetry, Polyhymnia for sacred poetry, and Urania for astronomy."

Hope's brow creased as if she was trying to see where Daphne was going with the explanation, but Hermione was completely lost.

"But there's this Roman scholar named Varro that believed there were only three Muses," Daphne continued, frowning over the words before reciting word for word, " 'one who is born from the movement of water, another who makes sound by striking the air, and a third who is embodied only in the human voice'. The first one is called Melete for practice, the second, Mneme for memory, and Aoide for song. He thought the three made a 'complete picture of poetic art in ritual practice'."

"You want to use those ones then?" Hope asked.

"Well, I figured the Mneme sounds kind of like you, and Hermione's all about practice makes perfect, so she's Melete all the way—"

"I'm just going to take that as a compliment," Hermione muttered decisively, blinking thickly in order to stay awake (her dream charts were not helping matters).

"So are you a good singer, Daphne?" Hope's eyes gleamed. "To fit Aoide?"

Daphne rolled her eyes, tugging the map where it had been shut between the pages of her Charms book, pulling out her wand. "I'm just saying what if we changed it to this?"

She murmured an altering spell under her breath and the words on the cover altered for Hope and Hermione to see: Melete, Aoide, and Mneme Purveyors of Aids to Magical Intrigue are proud to present The Muse's Map.

"I like it," Hermione said.

"Me too," Hope said.

"Much better than those three you came up with before," Hermione felt the need to point out and Hope's expression soured into a pout.

"I came up with those on the fly!"

"To very inspirational for a Muse," Hermione said so slyly that Daphne was actually impressed as Hope fell back with a few seething mutters in Greek that Daphne couldn't hear but was almost certain were insults. And she couldn't help but laugh with Hermione.

Hope had an aversion to the Quidditch Field after that incident that had caused the stands to break down around her, so while most of the school had headed off in the direction of the pitch, she'd grabbed her bag and headed off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest with a few jars in her bag, leaving Hermione and Daphne to tail anxiously after her.

"You know there is a reason that this place is called the Forbidden Forest, right?" Daphne inquired, looking around cautiously as they went further in.

The trees were thick and twisted, the kind whose shadow you wouldn't want to see through the rolling fog, but today it was clear, though Hope was almost certain that the further in they went, the darker it would become, the thick copse of trees blocking out the sun.

"I just want to see if they've got any good plants growing around," Hope said, easing carefully past a tree.

"You know this was a turn of events I never expected when Hope and I became friends," Hermione muttered to Daphne as the blonde grabbed her arm quickly as she tripped over a loose stone, almost falling to the ground without the aid of Hermione's arm, "Hope being a wild child."

Daphne snorted.

"I heard that," Hope's voice echoed tartly to the front of them and they both shared a smile as they darted after her.

She was kneeling in the dirt, examining some of the plants poking out from under the sparse grass. Hope had dressed casual for going out into the forest, her hair red and pulled back into a simple ponytail, wearing denim and plaid and her trusty boots.

Daphne doubted she even cared about the stains that would undoubtedly be present on the knees of her jeans.

"You're such a nerd," Daphne said as Hope examined a few flowers. "Almost everyone's off watching the Quidditch match and here you are, picking flowers."

"You're here too," Hope pointed out as she pressed her hand against the ground with a soft murmur of a spell that had her eyes gleam an impossible green and a few more flowers protruded from the earth, blooming before their eyes.

That was one of the main parts of the herbals part of Earth Magick, Daphne remembered, always give what you take away, just like how for every tree that was cut down on the Potter Lands was replaced with another.

"Yeah, well, we find you just a bit more exciting than a Quidditch match," Daphne acquiesced, causing Hermione to burst into giggles. "And you might, you know, die, if we're not around."

Hope rolled her eyes, taking the flowers and sticking them into one of her jars before straightening up, eyes scrutinizing the surrounding area.

She'd heard that there were a lot of creatures in the forest, but she hadn't seen much more than a few questionable spiders, but it was possible that a bit further in there might be a bit more creatures to be concerned about.

Hope's eyes caught something silver and then she was moving carefully over a small sloping hill, her fingers roving over the rigid bark of the tree, of the silver shine against the bark.

Her fingers came back wet with something that looked a lot like molten silver.

"What's that supposed to be?" Hermione asked curiously when she and Daphne had caught up.

"No idea," Hope said, noticing the same silver stain along the earth, "want to find out?"

Hermione looked uneasy but Daphne was intrigued, following after Hope as she started moving once more.

It ended smeared over a fallen tree not too far in from where Hope had found the first stain.

She peered over it curiously, her eyes going comically wide. "Oh my Gods," she said out loud in a stage-whisper, looking at Daphne and Hermione with her eyes still wide, "I think this is from a dead unicorn!"

"What?" Hermione walked past the trunk to stare.

It was so white and gleaming in the sunlight that dappled through the branches overhead that it was a contrast with the undergrowth, its mane shining and its eyes cloudy.

Hermione had never seen anything quite so beautiful or so sad.

"That silver stuff must've been its blood," Daphne realized, crouching to examine a gash on its flank. "Who'd want to kill a unicorn?"

"Who indeed," another voice commented and all three girls whipped around to see a centaur step into view, its hooves making more sound than them at the moment. It had pale eyes and even paler hair to go with the palomino body of a horse that it possessed.

"Oh," Hermione positively squeaked.

"I am Firenze," the centaur said as he approached and Hope couldn't help but notice that he towered over them, "you are students at the school?"

Hope regained the use of her tongue first, but barely. "Er, yes," she said, "I'm Hope Potter, and this is Daphne Greengrass, and Hermione Granger." She gestured to her friends in turn as his eyes traced over her fairly obvious scar in a manner that Hope was accustomed to.

"The Potter girl," he murmured, more to himself than to the girls, "you should turn back, the forest is not safe at this time…especially for you."

Hope frowned, not understanding.

"What happened to the unicorn?" Daphne asked bravely, tilting her head back in order to meet his eyes.

Instead he posed a question of his own: "Do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," all three said honestly in unison. They'd never used anything like unicorn blood in potions class, only the horn and tail.

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze in a grim manner that sent a shiver down Hope's spine. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenceless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Hope knelt suddenly to wipe the silver bloodstained-hand into the dirt at the realization of just how dangerous it was.

"Would anyone really be that foolish?" Hope asked out loud. Stupid sounded a bit too harsh to her mind, so foolish it was. "If it's as cursed as you say, wouldn't dying be better?"

"It would be," Firenze said, dipping his head slightly in agreement, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else –something that will bring you back to full strength and power– something that will mean you can never die. Miss Potter, Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Philosopher's Stone!" Hermione gasped. "Of course, it makes the Elixir of Life, granting immortality, but—"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?" An eyebrow was crooked and Hope felt as though ice water had been dumped over her, remembering her nightmares of high-pitched laughter and a flash of green.

Voldemort, she thought viciously with her teeth clenched. Remus had once mentioned the rumour of the fact that Voldemort might not be as dead as everyone thought. Could it be true?

"You should return to the school," the centaur said, nodding in the direction that they'd come in, and for once the three didn't argue, mulling over the information he had imparted upon them.

They turned and headed back in the direction of the castle when they heard a pair of voices, forcing them to duck out of sight.

Hope didn't dare to peer around the tree she'd hidden behind, but she could make out Quirrell's voice easily.

"…d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..." he managed to stutter out and Hope didn't need to guess who his companion was.

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," came Snape's tone, as frosty as Daphne's when she was in a mood. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."

Hope blinked as Quirrell tried to stutter out a reply, but it just sounded like garbled mess to Hope's ears.

Her scar ached.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?" Snape's voice came again, almost a bark.

"B-b-but Severus, I–"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell." it was a warning now, that was rather plain to Hope.

"I-I don't know what you—" Quirrell stuttered again.

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

Hope's scar throbbed painfully on her forehead and she gritted her teeth together, trying to focus on what was being said.

"—your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting." Hope had no idea what he was talking about, but she was almost certain Quirrell did, despite his stammered denial.

"Very well," Snape said curtly. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

Hope chanced at peering around her tree to see Snape's back leaving the forest behind and Quirrell where he stood.

Daphne's eyes were wide behind the large rock she'd chosen, and Hope couldn't see where Hermione had disappeared.

Then she heard something that sounded vaguely like hissing from Quirrell's turban.

"The curse failed, but don't worry, my master, I will find another way," he murmured as though speaking to someone, without even a trace of a stutter.

The blood fled from Hope's face.

AN: Hope's going to be suspicious of both of them now, that's going to be interesting to write. I've never done that before.

The matter concerning the Siren and the call of the sea won't be important until the end of book two, but the groundwork's there. You'll learn more about Nelda then, too.

Cassius will also be seen from time to time, so look forward to that.

I changed the Muses names because I found something that I liked better, and I didn't really like the names I'd come up with.

There aren't too many chapter of book one left. :)

As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

*Chapter 17*: The Hidden Stone

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Seventeen: The Hidden Stone

Hope didn't trust Quirrell after that day in the Forbidden Forest. She couldn't imagine who else he could've been talking about, particularly when talking about a curse that failed.

It made her go and think back to when she'd been having all of those little accidents. The branch that had broken over her head, the broken end impaling the ground where Hope had previously been standing. The three times she'd almost tripped over a balcony. The stands breaking around her during the Quidditch match.

"Okay," Hermione said, "there are too many coincidences, I'll admit."

Hope arched an eyebrow. "It that all?"

Breezy February had smoothly transitioned into a temperate March, the grass returning to its usual green, plants sprouting from the earth.

Hope was in a better mood than she'd been in weeks, ever since that conversation they'd overheard between Quirrell and Snape, ever since Firenze the centaur had explained things. Daphne was of the personal mind that Hope was becoming one with the earth, that was why she was in a better mood now that it had warmed.

In retort, Hope had offered to throw her over a balcony.

Hermione had begun studying for their final exams, which was mildly startling since their exams weren't until June, but Hermione did have more exams than Daphne and Hope had to be concerned about. Hope could still see the delicate chain around her neck that she knew hid the Time-turner she used to get to her classes.

Hope knew Hermione well enough to know that the weight of her classes was too much to consider taking them on the next year. There were ever-present exhaustion circles under her eyes that she had never seemed to be without the whole year.

It made Hope glad that she was only taking two electives in the stead of five.

Currently the three of them were under the shade of the willow tree that rested at the edge of the Black Lake. They weren't the only ones enjoying the flush of good weather. There was a hum of voices around them, but their spot had been claimed and no one was brave enough to come close to where they were sitting. Daphne's reputation as an ice queen had spread and Hope was generally treated with caution, barring most Slytherins, of course, they treated her with outright dislike.

"I've decided to drop some classes," Hermione informed them and Hope actually looked up from her copy of The Hobbit. "This year was way too…much."

"Isn't that the truth?" Daphne snorted. She had her back to the trunk of the tree, reading the Witch Weekly magazine with vague interest.

"I'm very close to walking out of Divination," Hermione confided in them, but it wasn't really new information.

Hermione had been annoyed with the class for about as long as she'd been taking it, which was saying something. Hope wondered if she'd ever had such a negative reaction to a class before.

Evidently, Professor Trelawney's way of greeting a new class involved predicting the death of a student each year –none of which had yet died, it was needed to be pointed out– and she had chosen Hermione on the very first day.

"Death surrounds you, my dear," Professor Trelawney had said sadly during the first lesson, patting her hand sadly in a way that had made Hermione want to recoil.

She always seemed ready for Hermione to drop dead, which only made Hermione want to be as far from the professor –if she could even be called that– as it was feasibly possible.

"Does she still think you're going to die?" Daphne's lips twitched, and Hermione knew it was to hide a smile. She wanted to swipe the look right off her face.

"Unfortunately," Hermione grumbled.

"Maybe you should tell her it's probably just because, you know, you've met Death," Hope suggested, resting with her stomach to the grass, smirking into her book.

"Because that'll go over well." Hermione rolled her eyes. "And we've barely met. You know him best, he's your grandfather, remember?"

"Actually, I think Thalia probably knows him best…"

Hermione did her best to ignore Hope. "This class is going to be the death of me."

"I'm sure that's what Trelawney's going for," Daphne suggested and Hermione glared.

Hope shut her book and sat up, scowling across the lake to where she could see just make out the hint of Quirrell's turban as he spoke with someone who could've only been Professor McGonagall with those emerald robes. "What is he playing at?"

"Who?"

"Quirrell!" Hope hissed, her eyes still fixed on his location. "He's going around acting like nothing's wrong! Him and Snape! They haven't tried to go near the third floor corridor once since the forest!"

Hope had been checking their map almost obsessively, and neither had been doing anything that was out of the ordinary. And that itself was the worrisome part.

"Maybe they've got a plan of when to take the Stone?" Daphne surmised, blue eyes peering over the magazine.

"Snape did say something about 'hocus pocus'," Hermione pointed out, "maybe there's other enchantments protecting the Stone, maybe something that Quirrell did himself that Snape needs to get past."

That made it seem more like Quirrell was an innocent bystander, but Hope was far too wary to believe that for a second.

She rubbed a hand furiously over her aching forehead. The pain had been on and off for awhile now and Hope was seriously contemplating mixing up a potion for pain.

A frown creased her brow as she looked across the Black Lake, but Quirrell's figure had disappeared back in the direction of the castle.

She had a bad feeling about him.

Hermione was ready to kill someone, which was saying something, because that line of thinking was something Hope was better known for, albeit more likely to be muttered lowly under her breath.

Divination was a menace.

Hope and Daphne might've had an interest in it, but Hermione had read those books on the subject in Hope's library, and she could solidly say that those books had more substance than anything Hermione had learned in class.

Of course, Hope and Daphne didn't take as seriously as Professor Trelawney did, it was regarded more as something that was vaguely interesting, and Hope preferred tarot cards than crystal balls.

A scowl drew Hermione's downwards as she sat between Angelina and Lee, the only table in the stuffy room that had three people due to there being an odd number in the class.

It was hard for Hermione was even take a word of what Trelawney said seriously when she talked the way she did, like she was mostly in a daydream and very little in reality.

"Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art," Professor Trelawney said as she swayed around the room, eyes unfocused, magnified behind her large glasses. The end of her shawl came dreadfully close to catching on fire from a nearby lit candle. If only. "I do not expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb's infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes—" Hermione rolled her eyes obviously and Lee and Angelina, who by now were rather aware of her dubious belief in the class, had to stifle their sniggers. "—so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will see before the end of the class."

Staring into a cloudy crystal ball was not how Hermione wanted to spend her afternoon. Hope was probably up in Morea's Room, or that small island a short distance from the castle, practicing Earth Magick, and Daphne was probably putting a few finishing touches on that essay she'd wanted Hermione to look over after class.

They'd been the smart ones, choosing not to take Divination. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were far more intriguing and challenging, and at least she had Hope and Daphne with her during it. Her house-mates in Divination weren't bad, of course. Fred and George kept her amused and Lee and Angelina listened to her muffled complaints without judgment…still, it wasn't the same.

Hermione scowled at the swirling mist in the crystal ball.

"This is a complete waste of time," Hermione muttered fiercely under her breath after ten minutes had passed. "I could be off preparing for my exams, but no, I'm here looking into a glass ball that shows absolutely nothing!"

She fell abruptly silent at their professor, and she used that term very loosely, moved past them, asking if anyone needed help interpreting the images within the orb, which was to say nothing.

"It could be worse," Lee whispered back, dark eyes gleaming. "You could actually be seeing things."

Angelina snorted loudly, loud enough to garner Professor Trelawney's disapproval.

"Now, really!" Professor Trelawney clucked her tongue in disapproval, picking their table out easily as the source of the noise and Hermione's heart sank right into her stomach. She wasn't going to come over to them, was she? "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!"

Unfortunately for Hermione, Professor Trelawney approached the table to scrutinize their crystal ball.

She couldn't go more than two weeks without bringing up Hermione's supposed death in the future, and Hermione couldn't even last more than one lesson of her doing so, that much she was certain of.

"There is something here!" Professor Trelawney's eyes gleamed like pale moons reflected in a calm tide. "Something moving…but what is it?"

Hermione wanted to take her Unfogging the Future book from her bag and actually smack the professor with it, and Hermione wasn't a violent person. She was about as nonviolent as they came, but Hope's dry humour and Daphne's sharp tongue had rubbed off on her.

"My dear," Her eyes fixed sadly on Hermione, with an expression that one might wear at the bedside of a dying friend, "It is here, plainer than ever before... my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer... the Gr–"

"Colour me surprised that it's the Grim." The words had left Hermione's lips before she could stop them, and she found that she didn't really want to stop them once they were out. She could see Fred and George behind Professor Trelawney wearing identical expressions of mirth. Neither of their expressions helped matters, nor did how Angelina and Lee's shoulders shook with the strain of maintaining silence despite being so utterly amused.

The eyes that had been so unfocused before suddenly sharpened as Professor Trelawney drew herself up to her full height, eyes burning, incensed at Hermione's words.

"I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class my dear," she spoke in a clipped tone that wouldn't have been remiss with Professor McGonagall, "it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane."

Hermione was briefly stunned that a teacher would actually insult her to her face, and then she thought of Salazar Slytherin who had once surveyed her with interest after she had debated the worth of apotropaic magic compared to regular protective warding and said: "You are a credit to your family, Miss Granger." And Hermione had never felt so honestly flattered that the one Hogwarts founder she would have thought would take issue with her based on her blood, hadn't.

Salazar Slytherin had seen her value in the midst of voicing what might've been an unpopular opinion, but Professor Trelawney, a teacher, heard an opinion against her own, and basically called her close-minded, which Hermione thought was a bit rich, coming from her.

The silence descended, and Hermione very nearly stood and walked right out without another word to the witch, but she'd been around Hope and Daphne far too long to not think about getting the last word.

Hermione stood up so suddenly that the table shook, and even though it didn't do much to improve her height. "Hopelessly mundane?" she repeated archly. "Why don't you try this on for size? According to the Ancient Arts, Divination is an art to be used sparingly as the events predicted with the Divining Arts may approach closer than the caster is aware of and often they're too vague to be taken at face value. Besides, casting runes is farmore trustworthy than divining with a crystal ball."

She stuffed her book back into her bag, hooking the strap onto her shoulder with so much force that it almost hit Lee as it swung wildly at her side.

"And also, the Death card I drew the week we covered tarot had nothing to do with death or dying, it means 'transformation', but in the case of the card being reversed, it would be 'resistance to change', which would be better suited for you, I think."

Professor Trelawney had a hand to her chest, stunned at the retaliation against her person, and the whole room had fallen silent with wonder.

It gave her a thrill like nothing else as she walked to the trapdoor that had led up into the room, kicked it open, and slid down the ladder to land on her feet.

"You're out early."

Hermione blinked, turning to see that Daphne was sitting on the ground, reading the book on Divination –proper Divination–one that Hope and Hermione had gotten her for her recent birthday, having more to do with Seers and Oracles than anything else, her bag resting beside her, clearly waiting for Hermione.

"Hope was going to come by in about—" Daphne checked the watch on her arm. "—half an hour and we were going to wait for you together."

It was times like these that Hermione couldn't help but feel as though she took her friends for granted.

"Did class get out early?" Daphne asked, replacing her book into her bag and standing up to consider the trapdoor on the ceiling, but no one was following after Hermione, which was odd, because she and Hope had been by before to wait for Hermione and everyone in the class seemed to race to get out of the classroom.

"No, it's just…" Hermione bit her lip, the gravity of her actions catching up with her. "I quit."

"You quit?" Daphne repeated.

"And I might've insulted Trelawney," Hermione conceded with a wince.

Daphne grinned widely, looping her arm through Hermione's. "Oh, we gotta tell Hope! We're rubbing off on you!"

"You are not!" Hermione disagreed, but she still allowed her friend to tug her along, making for the stairs that twisted in a spiral, leading downwards to the main level.

"Hey, Hope!" Hope evidently was on her way up to meet them, wearing the same plaid and denim that she always did when she was practicing her Earth Magick. The tips of her fingers were blackened and her eyebrows were slightly singed.

But she still smiled. "Hey, I was just coming up to—"

"Hermione just walked out of Divination," Daphne informed the third member of their grouping rather gleefully.

"Wow," Hope's singed eyebrows rose on her forehead, clearly impressed. "Didn't think you'd have it in you."

Hermione glared.

Hope spun her arm through Hermione's free one. "Come on, Hermione, you hated that class, it was driving you completely mental, remember? At least this way you have one less class to study for."

Hermione groaned but didn't bother denying the truth.

The hot water soothed as it burned over skin as Hope tangled her fingers into her hair, letting the water soak through the hair.

It was early in the morning, like most days that she awoke in Hogwarts. Late days were for the breaks at Potter Manor where she didn't have to worry about people trying to kill her.

Her fingers smoothed over her wrist, where the constellation of Aquila was formed against her skin, the small stars appearing as dark moles than anything else. She didn't think that Hermione or Daphne had even noticed, but it wasn't like they paid a lot of attention to her wrist at any point in time.

Her other hand found the notch of her spine below her neck, rubbing at the spot there before murmuring the words: "Dermatostixía asterión"

A few spots down her spine warmed and Hope turned off the water and whipped the towel around her.

If she'd bothered to look in the mirror she would seen the stars forming down her spine in the constellation of Serpens, a fitting tattoo for a descendant of Salazar Slytherin.

Alicia took Study of Ancient Runes with Hope, Hermione, and Daphne so she'd asked the three if they wanted to study for the final exam together, and it was probably the best idea she'd had in the past few hours.

It was clearly Hope's favourite subject, if her enthusiasm was to be believed, and all the girls seemed to have some understanding of the runes that had been tripping her up all year.

"All right…what is the rune for…wealth, wildness, vitality, and fertility?" Hope asked consulting her notes.

It was a game of sorts, with everyone tallying if they got their question correct. The winner got a chocolate frog, which wasn't much, but it was more than Alicia had eaten in a few hours, so it made her rather determined to get it.

It'd only been two weeks since Hermione had walked out of Divination while still managing to insult the teacher, a fact that made her practically famous in Gryffindor House. It had resulted in there being a meeting between Professor McGonagall and Hermione, during which Hermione had proceeded to explain, word for word, all that she had said to Professor Trelawney, and since she didn't outright or obviously insult her, Hermione managed to get away with it, with Professor McGonagall shaking her head in exasperation.

Alicia screwed up her face in thought as she tried to remember. "It's…er…Fehu?" She was almost sure it was wrong.

"Correct," Hope said, giving Alicia a mark on the parchment under her name before turning to Hermione. "What god is Fehu associated with?"

"Freya," Hermione said, frowning at her, "I thought you were going to practice EM with Sal today?"

Alicia had no way to really understand what those letters and that name meant.

"It's a study day," Hope said, adding a notch under Hermione's name. "And he thinks I need to focus on this magic a bit more."

Alicia's brow furrowed in confusion. This magic? What did that even mean? But Alicia doubted she'd ever understand Hope Potter, the girl made a habit of disappearing off with her friends into the unknown. Fred and George were a bit annoyed about that, she didn't know why, though, probably because they wanted to ask them about those pranks they'd played on them at the beginning of the school year…

"You're too obsessed," Daphne snorted with her arms and ankles crossed where they were sitting in the stone courtyard, sunlight falling down over them. Hope was the only sitting half concealed in shade. "One day you're going to just break your wand yourself and run off into the mist."

Hope rolled her eyes, turning slightly to smirk at her friend. "Daphne! Draw me the Fehu rune!"

"I hate you," Daphne said, taking the parchment and quill from her friend.

"Are you all always like this?" Alicia inquired, eyebrows arching.

"Depends on the day," Hermione said rather dryly, "they're rather full of dry wit and sarcasm."

"Hey!" Daphne complained while Hope scowled towards a group of Ravenclaw girls occupying the other side of the courtyard. Alicia chanced a look over and they all seemed to be laughing about something.

"I think those girls are making fun of me again," Hope said with narrowed eyes. One of them Alicia knew from class to be dating an older Slytherin.

"Does it bother you?" she asked suddenly and Hope blinked, looking at her in surprise. She looked younger then, eyes greener, hair darker, cheeks more rounded, nothing like the calm mask she generally wore around school. "What people say about you?"

"Well, yeah," Hope said, another scowl appearing on her lips, "but you can't change what people think. Everyone in Slytherin's hated me since the year started—" Daphne cleared her throat. "—well, almost everyone. Too many people expected me to get into Gryffindor, I think. I've got too much Slytherin blood in me, though." She winked at Alicia and Alicia tried to comprehend what that meant as Hope leaned over to point her finger to the ground near the girls.

"Fídi emfanízetai," Hope murmured, her eyes blazing green briefly and the next moment there was a piercing scream from the girls at the presence of the snake hissing at their ankles.

Alicia stared as Hope sniggered to herself and cupped her hands around her mouth, calling over to them "Karma's a bitch, isn't she?"

There were a few furious glares in her direction.

"Hope, that's not how you make friends," Hermione said, but her lips twitched a bit too much to be taken seriously.

"It's just a tiny spell, oh, look at him go," Hope sounded almost fond, waving to the small garden snake as it slithered past them. "Bless him, he almost bit them."

Daphne was trying so hard to stifle her amusement that her shoulders were shaking violently.

"You're ridiculous," Alicia said in awe, "was that wandless magic?"

"Eh, maybe?" Hope gave a so-so gesture as one of the girls stomped towards them.

"I know that was you, Potter!" she hissed, hazel eyes dark and furious. Alicia tried to remember her name…what was it? Felicity Eastchurch, wasn't it?

"Really?" Hope's eyebrows rose in surprise that was clearly faked. "But I'm over here minding my own business, studying for an exam and you're over there making fun of a girl for wearing up her hair every day and having a personality like a brick." Her tone had grown steadily frostier and Felicity recoiled sharply, surprised that she'd heard all that.

Felicity maintained eye contact with Hope for exactly ten more seconds before stalking off with her posse in tow.

"Why did they care about your hair?" Hermione asked, scowling after them.

"Because there's nothing to hide, I assume," Hope said, making a face like a grimace, "no love bites."

"You're eleven!"

"I think they're saying that no one would go for her at all," Daphne winced as she pointed it out.

"Oh."

"Who cares about romance when there's branches of magic to study, guys?" Hope's eyes gleamed impossibly bright, turning hazel in her excitement.

There was something really pure about that, Alicia had to admit as she smiled, Hope being so utterly unconcerned about anyone romantically in favour of studying magic.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Alicia laughed. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you before."

"Well, good," Hope grumbled sourly, "it would be boring if you had."

"You should go off with Sal," Hermione suggested, swiping the notes from her hands, "you already know all these runes, anyways."

Hope leapt to her feet to snatch the notes back. "You don't know that," she said hotly. "Exam day might come around and I will completely blank, I promise you, it happens every time."

"Oh come on, you'll be fine for Ancient Runes," Daphne said wryly, "it's everything else you've got to worry about."

Hope downright glowered at her blonde friend. "Thanks for that, Daphne."

Daphne showed her pearly teeth. "I'm just here to keep things real, you know."

"You're a terrible friend," Hope grated, "and just for that I'm going to take a point away."

"What? No!" Daphne was outraged, trying to snatch the parchment out of her hands. "That's not fair!"

Hermione watched them for a few moments before picking up the fallen notes. "They'll get tired eventually…do you know the difference between Ehwaz and Eihwaz?"

"Okay, but how did you find all these passageways?"

"You have exactly one second to remove your arm before I think up a good curse for you, Weasley."

Fred grinned widely, removing his arm from where he'd flung it familiarly over her shoulder, peering over her shoulder to look to the map in her arms.

"Don't you two have classes to study for?" Hope asked petulantly. Daphne and Hermione were in the Great Hall, they were helping Hermione study for Care of Magical Creatures, but Hope had studied so much for Potions the previous day that the words had started to float off the page, so she'd taken a break.

It was the second week of May and the castle grounds had warmed considerably, the lake glittering under the clear sunlight, the patches of green grass spreading to cover the whole grounds. Hope, Hermione, and Daphne had decided to stop studying outside because of their tendency to get distracted by the warmth and the other students milling about.

The other students were taking advantage of the nice weather, but the girls were taking advantage of the time they had to study for their exams. Remus' finals were hard, but they had no idea what to expect for final exams at Hogwarts (it was probably a bit harder than their usual exams, but they couldn't really be certain).

"There's three weeks until exams," George pointed out at her other side and Hope rolled her eyes. She wasn't stupid enough to start studying the day before her exams. "Did you really curse Eastchurch?"

The rumour had spread like wildfire, like things always did with a rumour grapevine like the one Hogwarts had. Hope surmised that the girl and her friends weren't very fond of snakes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hope said smoothly, rounding a corner, with her eyes still focused on the map. "My wand was in my bag the whole time." Which was very true, Hope hadn't touched her wand during the whole exchange.

"Alicia said it was wandless magic," Fred interjected with a grin, peering down at her and Hope was rather painfully aware of the height difference between her and the boys, a fact that always irritated her greatly. "Which is supposed to be really hard to do…how'd you do it?"

Hope's eyes narrowed with intrigue. They were curious; that was adorable. "Boys," she said, her lips curling in amusement, "if I told you all my tricks then where would be the mystery?"

The twins groaned in unison as they followed her down the hallway, and George leaned slightly to the side in order to see the cover of the map.

"You all changed your names," he noticed.

Hope shrugged. "Our first ones weren't that great." Though she had suggested them, so that might've been the reason.

"What'd they change them to?" Fred asked his twin over Hope's head, but Hope answered before he could stumble over the spelling and pronunciation.

"Aoide, Melete, and Mneme," Hope said, hoping that would shoo them off, but they stuck around.

"Sounds…Greek," George said and Hope scrutinized him for the longest time as he grinned easily.

"You two are hopeless," she decided, rolling her eyes as she came to a stop in front of the large mirror on the fourth floor, the one that had a passage that led into Hogsmeade, and one that all three knew to be blocked off.

"Er, Hope?"

Hope ignored them as she undid the latch on the side that kept the mirror locked into the wall, moving it forward just slightly enough for herself, pulling her wand out and incanting the wand-lighting spell before slipping through the space between.

"She does know that it's blocked off back there, doesn't she?" Fred asked, staring after the girl in bemusement. She had certainly said as much when she was listing off the passages out of the school back when she'd been comparing the two maps side by side.

"I'm pretty sure," George replied with a frown, before, by silent agreement, they decided to follow after her.

The passage was as blocked off as it had been the last time they'd set foot in it, and both knew that wasn't likely to change. Hope had dumped her bag against the side of the wall that was still stable, frowning at the stones that had been piled jaggedly.

Then she tucked her lit wand behind her ear with an annoyed mutter.

It was Salazar's suggestion, putting her Earth Magick skills to good use, working a spell on the very foundations of the castle. He hadn't suggested that particular level, but Hope had figured why not.

"Don't you two have anything better to do?" Hope asked loudly as she smoothed a hand over the jagged stone.

"Probably not," Fred grinned. "Are you going to be doing any of that wandless magic you claim you haven't done?"

Hope rolled her eyes at the sniggers behind her, pressing both of her hands firmly against the roughly broken stones.

"Spasméno ananeónetai," she said, green eyes glowing eerily in the darkness and she removed her hands and stepped back quickly as the tunnel shook and trembled around them, and she heard more than saw Fred and George come to a stop behind her, stunned in awe as the stone parted and returned to the cracks in the walls and the ceiling until there was no damage remaining, leaving the tunnel looking as though no damage had previously been done.

She swiped her hands together before moving to grab her bag and turn to consider them, bemused by their wonder.

A snort of amusement passed her lips as she walked past them.

"I think she might be Merlin," Fred said to George as they were left in the darkness.

"I don't want to be around when you tell her that," his twin said rather sagely.

"Travelling by mirror? You're joking, right?"

Hope's expression soured. "I'm just saying it was an interesting concept."

They were all on the small island that Hope and Salazar used to practice Earth Magick outside of school, and the only way they'd all gotten there was by bribing the Weasley twins into borrowing their broomsticks for a few hours for a crate of seven Butterbeers, which Hope thought was a bit much but she wasn't going to complain.

"Does it sound crazy?" Daphne appealed to Salazar, who was sitting with his back to a tree, listening to the debate with vague interest.

"It's far from impossible," Salazar had to agree with Hope, "it certainly would be very interesting to see…being able to travel from one reflective surface to the next."

"You mean, like you could step into the ocean and you could come out of the mirror in your room?" Hermione inquired dubiously.

The Slytherin founder gave a simple shrug. "A possibility," he said, "I altered the Mirror of Erised to house a pocket of space within it."

Hope's brow furrowed. "What d'you mean?"

Salazar heaved a heavy sigh, like the topic made him vaguely uncomfortable, though Hope couldn't imagine why.

"It was a flaw," he said finally, "when I was making it, something went wrong, I could never quite say, but somehow an extendable pocket of space ended up within the mirror itself, as though it was a cupboard instead of a mirror. I only used it once."

"When was that?" Daphne asked cautiously.

Salazar's lips thinned into a line and his eyes darkened. Hope thought the look itself was quite frightening; no wonder he had inspired so much fear, even centuries after his death. "The night…Adrian lost himself completely…I found my grandson Sylvester in the sitting room of my daughter's home." He swallowed thickly. "I could hear Morea fighting with him…but I couldn't sense Nelda's magic anymore. I knew what had happened, of course, but in the moment, there was no time to grieve, I knew that if Adrian got through Morea, he'd come for Sylvester…and then he'd come for me."

He looked out on the sea and Hope wondered if he saw her there, the Sea-Witch of Fen, the girl that had run away and built a ship of her own magic and sailed the seas.

Salazar forcibly cleared his throat. "I'd given Nelda and Damian the mirror as a wedding gift, so it was still in the house, Nelda had been so utterly fascinated with it as a child that I thought it would be cruel not to gift it to her. I took Sylvester and hid him inside and went upstairs."

"Did you kill him?" Hermione asked quietly, her eyes wide as she listened to the sad tale.

"No, I didn't," Salazar said curtly, "I would've, but by the time I reached them, Adrian had gone, leaving only carnage and death in his wake…I caught up with him a month later, but his death was not my doing."

There was a story there, Hope knew, but he didn't further elaborate and she knew better than to press, she remembered the dark spread of ink across the pages at the end of his journal.

"The spell you were talking about?" Hope cleared her throat, drawing their attention away from the dark topic of Adrian Slytherin. "How does it go again?"

And she didn't think she'd ever seen him look quite so grateful for a change in topic.

Hope didn't have any idea why she was studying for Potions class at this point.

"I mean, he's just going to give me a failing grade, is there really any point?"

Hope's brain hurt from the sheer amount of studying they'd been doing the past week. And the daily throbbing of her scar certainly wasn't helping matters, but Hope wasn't about to let a scar get in the way of her passing her classes.

"Of course there's a point!" Hermione was scandalized at the idea that someone didn't believe there was a point to exams. "We have to pass them to go on to fourth year!"

"Maybe you should just do really great on the written so you can flunk the practical," Daphne suggested.

"Sage advice, Greengrass," Hope snorted before almost growling at the boy that had knocked his shoulder into her, sending her careening into Hermione. "You got a problem, Flint?"

The pair had been growing steadily more antagonistic as time wore on, Hermione noticed, particularly in the past few weeks. Maybe Flint was making up for the fact that he wouldn't be able to insult Hope over summer break.

He sneered in reply. "You're in the way."

"Wow, would you look at that," Hope scrutinized the rest of the hall with interest, "the rest of the corridor is practically empty!"

The stress of the exams and her never-ending headache certainly wasn't helping things.

"I should've just been homeschooled," Hope grumbled as he stalked away from her with a superior sneer still tainting his face. "It would've been more fun."

Hope couldn't stop the many whispers about her, and there were many, but she rarely retaliated, unless it was against someone like Flint. The incident with Felicity Eastchurch had been a surprise, but Hermione and Daphne suspected her resolve to ignore most whispers about her was wearing a bit thin.

"Then you wouldn't see us every day," Daphne informed her conversationally.

Hope gave a soft hum that said she had to concede to Daphne's point. She was still scowling, though, and it wasn't until she reached a hand up to rub at her scar that Daphne realized how red and inflamed her skin looked.

"I'm going to head up to the hospital wing to see if Madam Pomfrey'll give me a headache potion," Hope decided finally.

Of course, when she did get the potion, it hardly helped, a fact which greatly irritated her while they were studying for Transfiguration.

So Hope stewed in her throbbing pain.

Their teachers, Hope decided, were a rather cruel lot, dropping so much homework on them even though their final exams were fast approaching. Hermione was a bundle of nerves, prone to snapping at any moment that enough of the Gryffindors knew better than to bother her when she was in the midst of studying.

Alicia still studied with them for Ancient Runes, which seemed like the best idea, because she was finally getting some of what they'd studying all year, and she really needed to pass the class, if the frantic expression she wore on her face was any indication.

Hope liked Angelina and Alicia, they were enough fun to be around, and they were Hermione's dorm-mates so they were rather familiar with her bookish tendencies.

It made her and Daphne wish that their own were the same, but Isla Vaisley, Eden Rowle, and Marigold Burke couldn't have made it clearer that they despised the very idea of Hope, and Hope didn't care much for them, so they were even in that respect.

"All right, we've got big news!"

The twins barreled into the Great Hall where the girls, plus Lee, were all sitting, quizzing each other over Transfiguration concepts and wand movements.

"Hold it!" Hope held up one hand to stall the flow of speech, pointing at George. "What is the correct incantation for turning a teapot into a tortoise?"

George arched an eyebrow before saying, without delay. "Testudo muto."

"You guessed!" she accused in outrage.

She hadn't even seen the twins study…at all! They were just a week away from their exams now, so Hope had taken to springing questions on them at the strangest of times, but the funny thing was the pair hadn't gotten one thing wrong, not even the tiniest detail.

It was the most infuriating thing she'd ever seen. They didn't hardly need to try.

"Maybe you just never see us study." Fred was smirking widely and Hope wanted to swipe it off his face. "Anyways…did you guys know that Hagrid had a dragon in his hut?"

Lee fell out of his seat in surprise and the girls were similarly surprised. Hope thought it would have been a bit more dramatic if she'd known the gamekeeper, but she hardly did.

"He had a what?" Angelina gaped, staring at him with wide eyes.

"He lives in a wooden house," Hermione added, startled.

Hope shook her head in exasperation. Dragons…honestly, that was just asking for trouble. What had Hagrid been thinking?

"Dumbledore had it sent over to Romania last night," George informed them. "Charlie's probably over the moon."

"Who's Charlie?" Daphne whispered to Hope.

"Brother, I think," Hope whispered back.

"Zeus, how many brothers do they have?"

The twins obviously heard that comment, because their lips widened into identical grins.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "For all we know that's another elaborate rumour." She knew as well as anyone else that hardly any of the rumours spread throughout the school were actually true.

Fred grinned. "It's not, we just talked with Hagrid, he's really torn up about it."

Daphne stared at him blankly. "He is aware that dragons don't stay small forever, right?"

Hagrid had gotten very lucky, if you asked Hope, dragons weren't beasts that were meant to be domesticated, and even if they were, they were better suited for plains and mountains than in a small hut next to a castle.

Hope's head throbbed and she groaned, burying her face into her Transfiguration book. A dragon was the least of her worries.

Hope hated exams, that much could be said. Hermione, on the other hand, loved them, but Hermione had always been a bit odd. Daphne was pretty indifferent to it all.

Of course, Hope had a reason to hate exams; she could've been neck deep in Earth Magick, like she often was, but instead she was studying for exams, one of which she would ace without a problem and one of which she would fail no matter what her true grade was.

Hope knew she was smart, of course, she was passing all of her classes –albeit one, just barely, and through a stroke of luck– but she also knew what she'd rather be looking into, and it certainly wasn't wand-magic.

Potions was a nightmare and Hope couldn't help but get the feeling that Snape was watching her the most out of everyone, it gave her an uncomfortable feeling down her spine as she shredded her lovage into appropriately small pieces for the Confusing Concoction before dropping them into her bubbling potion, stirring occasionally.

Transfiguration and Charms were better, Professor McGonagall's eyes stern and calculating, watching the movements of her wand carefully and Professor Flitwick's gleamed with approval. Hope personally thought those exams, both written and practical, went better than Potions.

Study of Ancient Runes was the easiest for her, by far, but she'd always had had a love of runes, so it wasn't that surprising. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a bit more…complicated. Quirrell made her just as uneasy as Snape did these days, and she couldn't help but fumble a bit when he came too close to her during her written and practical exams.

Herbology was rather manageable, especially since Hope had nothing against diving into the pots full of dirt in the greenhouses. History of Magic and Astronomy were fairly straightforward, but Arithmancy was rather complicated, and Hope knew she'd screwed up at least two of the equations there.

But they were done.

"That was so exhausting!" Hope braced her hands against knees once they'd walked out of their last exam, which happened to be History of Magic.

"The exam wasn't that bad," Daphne snorted, reasserting her grip on her bag, arching an eyebrow at Hope before turning her attention back to Hermione. "Did you think it was hard?"

"Not as much as I'd been expecting," Hermione admitted.

"I don't mean History of Magic," Hope countered easily. "I meant all those exams!"

"I've still got two exams to go," Hermione grumbled, more to herself than to anyone else. "By Merlin, I am dropping Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies afterwards." It was a good thing she'd withdrawn from Divination while she still could, because she couldn't imagine suffering through that exam on top of everything else.

They moved down the hallway past a few rushing Hufflepuffs that were apparently well on their way to being late for one of their own exams.

"Probably with passing grades," Daphne responded with a wide grin.

"Shut up."

Daphne and Hope waved goodbye as Hermione scampered off to do some last minute studying for Care of Magical Creatures, leaving Hope and Daphne on their own.

"The Black Lake?" Hope suggested, and Daphne concurred with a hum of agreement, looping her arm through Hope's as they made their way out of the castle and into the warmth and the sunlight. The heat of June could make anyone long to be outside.

"Are you going to Greece this summer?" Hope asked her friend as they moved into the sunlight, curving over the grass in the direction of the willow tree overlooking the Black Lake.

"Probably," Daphne frowned thoughtfully, "Nana likes having 'Storia and I around, says we keep her young."

Hope laughed at that.

"But are you going to be spending all of your summer down there? With the Blackwoods?"

"Aggie thinks I should," Hope admitted, "but I think she just wants to spend more time with me. And Thalia thinks I'm a bit cut off from the rest of the world with only Mindy and Remus in the manor."

Daphne could understand that. The manor, though wonderful, was very large and on many of the nights that she'd spent over at Hope's during their time of being tutored by Remus, she'd found it rather eerie.

"But I think I'm going to stick to staying at home for a week or two," Hope added, drawing Daphne's attention back. "There's some exploring I want to do of the Potter Lands."

Daphne didn't think that Hope had ever been fully aware of just how far her borders stretched. The forest and the seaside were lovely, particularly in the summertime, but she was sure that the Potter Lands had more to offer than what was seen by the naked eye.

"I've got an estate in Greece, anyways, so we'll probably just stay down there…Galen and Thalia will probably be working a lot, but Aggie's really excited about showing me the old ruins." Hope's eyes gleamed brightly and Daphne was glad she'd met someone so likeminded who was also related to her, albeit rather distantly.

"Remus is teaching a class down there over the summer, anyways," Hope continued, "a seminar on Dark Creatures for the Greek Auror Force. He's looking forward to it, and I think the sun would do us both some good."

Daphne dropped her bag to the ground, plopping down beside it with a sigh. "Remus was a great teacher, lucky them."

Hope smiled.

They sat for the longest time under the tree, waiting for Hermione to come out of the class, so long that Hope actually ended up falling asleep.

Most of her dreams these days revolved around a flash of green light and high pitched screams, but it wasn't like she'd had that nightmare before.

"Hey, Hope?"

Hope roused at the sound of her voice, blinking a few times as she squinted at the speaker. Daphne and Hermione were looking at her in concern; Hermione must've gotten out of her exams sometime while she was asleep.

"You were mumbling and wincing," Daphne said as Hermione's brow creased, and Hope raised a hand to rub at her scar again. "How's your forehead?"

"Painful," Hope grumbled before looking to Hermione. "How'd your exams go?"

"Better than I'd thought," Hermione admitted, a smile lighting her face, "but I still told Professor Kettleburn and Burbage that I was done with both classes."

Daphne snorted. "How'd they take that?"

"Burbage was pretty good about it…Professor Kettleburn patted my shoulder and said 'me too'."

Hope sniggered. There was a story there, she was sure.

Daphne was flipping through Hope's book on Earth Magick, something she'd been doing before Hope had fallen asleep.

"You know, some of these spells have a requirement of unrefined gold," Daphne pointed out.

Hope closed her eyes briefly. "I know," she groaned, "and all I've got is refined, I'm going to be annoyed until the end of time."

Her friends both laughed and Hope opened her eyes once more.

She looked across the lake, where a lot of students were now milling about now that the majority of exams were done. She could just make out Quirrell's turban in the distance and it made her scowl.

"Why d'you think neither of them have gone for the stone?" she asked out loud, still scrutinizing the professor with annoyance. She'd been expecting him or Snape to do something all week, but there was still nothing.

Hermione looked up from reading one of the pages of the book over Daphne's shoulder. "Maybe it's more about someone being around."

Daphne's brow furrowed. "What d'you mean?"

"Well, everyone says that Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of," Hermione explained, "maybe Snape won't pull anything until Dumbledore's away from the school…if he ever is."

"But you don't think he's figured out how to get past Fluffy, has he?" Daphne inquired. "I mean, Snape had to've tried to get past it before, right? That's why he had that limp, remember?"

Hope remembered, but it was still guesswork. It wasn't like anyone had ever bested a three-headed dog before.

But they had, hadn't they?

Hope pulled out her two-way mirror in a hurried movement that surprised her friends. "Aggie Blackwood," she said very clearly.

It took a few moments for her cousin's face to reflect in the compact. Her blue eyes were shining and she was smiling; Hope could hear laughter in the background.

"Hope!" Aggie's face positively brightened and Hope couldn't help but smile reflexively in response. "Hi! How're your exams going? Ours aren't until tomorrow." The mirror tilted in order to allow Hope to see the person she was with. He was darker than she was, his jaw line squarer, with darkly gleaming eyes. "This is Ajax, by the way, my best friend…he's also a complete nerd."

"Hey!" Ajax complained before waving two fingers towards Hope. "Aggie talks about you a lot."

"Aw, I'm flattered," Hope sniggered, flitting her eyes towards Aggie, who rolled her eyes for good measure. "I was wondering if I could pick your brain about something?"

"Sure!" Aggie's brow furrowed in confusion. "What kind of thing?"

"Greek mythology-related."

Daphne and Hermione eyed her curiously off to the side, but Hope ignored them.

"Shoot," Aggie said.

"People have gotten past Cerberus before, right?" Hope asked. "It was one of Hercules' labours, I think…"

"Yeah, he had to bring Cerberus to the king," Aggie responded with a frown, "there was Orpheus too, though, he was the son of the muse Calliope, he went down to the Underworld to get his wife. He played a lyre, it made Cerberus fall right to sleep."

"Hm," Hope said.

"Why?" Aggie asked her with enough suspicion that Hope was proud they were related.

"I'll tell you later," Hope said, snapping the compact shut and turning to look at her friends. "We've got to go and talk to Hagrid."

"What?" Hermione uttered in befuddlement. "Why?"

But Hope didn't answer her, stuffing her books back in her bag and tearing off over the sprawling greenery, forcing the pair to quickly follow in order to keep from losing her.

"Where're you going?" Daphne demanded, apologizing quickly to a first year Gryffindor boy she'd almost knocked over in her haste to follow after her friend, but Hope offered her no reply.

Instead of circling towards the castle, she instead curved towards the Forbidden Forest, specifically heading off towards Hagrid's hut.

The giant of a man was sitting outside, whittling what appeared to be a flute of sorts, and he was surprised by the sudden appearance of the three girls. "Well, hullo there," he said.

Not wanting to sound rude, Hope said, "Hi," before asking the question that was really on her mind while Daphne and Hermione caught their breaths. "Hagrid, has anyone ever asked you about Fluffy before?"

His bushy eyebrows rose on his brow.

"Besides us," Hope said quickly.

That made his brow furrow. "Well, there was that fellow down at the pub, the one I won Norbert from."

Norbert, Hope surmised, was the dragon.

"You won the dragon?" Hermione asked dubiously, drawing the same conclusion as Daphne's eyes bulged in her skull.

"Playing cards," Hagrid agreed easily, thinking hard. "He asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks..."

Daphne made an exasperated sound that he clearly missed.

"Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy, that the trick to any beast is knowing how to calm it, like with Fluffy, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep."

Hope turned white, which was impressive, and Hermione and Daphne were stunned.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he said quickly, but they were already gone, taking off in the direction of the Clock Tower in order to find a place to speak quietly and heatedly behind the glass dial without fear of being overheard.

"Am I the only one thinking that Snape gave Hagrid the dragon egg?" Daphne said with a breathless gasp as they came to a stop behind the pendulum as it chimed.

"Or Quirrell," Hope interjected.

"Or Quirrell," Daphne agreed.

"That's why you asked Aggie about anyone getting past Cerberus!" Hermione realized, snapping her fingers at Hope. "You thought if the original Cerberus had a weakness, than Fluffy probably had it too."

"I was thinking it might've been possible," Hope corrected. "Orpheus was a demigod, though, the son of a Muse, that probably helped."

Hope had maybe a few drops of godly blood in her veins, she hadn't been sure that anyone but someone like Orpheus could actually make something like Cerberus or Fluffy fall asleep to music. It was a relief to hear that Fluffy only required music.

"We should tell Dumbledore," Hermione said suddenly and Hope scowled at the mention of the Headmaster, something Hermione ignored as she pulled out their map in order to search for him. "Wait, he's gone!"

"That's not good," Daphne said, crossing her arms, her eyes flitting between her friends. "If Dumbledore's the only one keeping Snape –or Quirrell– from getting the Stone and he's gone…"

"It's the perfect opportunity to grab it," Hope agreed.

"It'll be gone by morning," Hermione was certain.

"We're all crazy, we should've told a teacher," Hermione grumbled at midnight, her voice low as they crept around in the darkness.

"I don't trust authority figures," Hope responded quietly before hissing, "quick, hide!"

They all ducked behind a suit of armour in a crevice to avoid being seen by the Ravenclaw patrol. If they'd had Hope's invisibility cloak, it wouldn't have mattered, but Hope had left it locked up in her trunk, more worried about losing it on the way down the trapdoor.

Dumbledore's dot hadn't reappeared by the night and Hope had lost track of Quirrell's dot, while Snape's remained in his private quarters, leading Hope to believe that Quirrell was the one behind it all, and he was done biding his time.

They waited impatiently for the patrol to pass before squeezing back out into the deserted corridor.

"Besides," Daphne hissed, "Quirrell's a teacher too." She had had to concede now that Quirrell was the likely culprit as Snape hadn't moved and Quirrell had all but disappeared.

They crept up the staircase to the third floor corridor.

"I just saying that maybe not everyone that's an authority figure is bad," Hermione muttered as they stopped right outside the door that hid Fluffy.

Hope made a grunting noise. "Who's going to believe three eleven year olds? Sorry, one eleven year olds and two twelve year olds." She rolled her eyes. At least she was only three months younger than Daphne; she was already one of the youngest in the year.

Daphne ignored her, pulling out her wand and remarking at the locked door: "Alohomora."

It gave an ominous click before swinging open to permit them inside. The three took a brief moment to collect themselves, but there was no questioning an no turning back, so Hope took that as a good sign.

The first thing Hope heard as the door shut behind them was the strumming threads of the harp that had been set in the corner.

"Quirrell must've set up the harp," Hermione whispered quickly under her breath, uneasy in the presence of the three-headed dog that had once terrified her. "It'll probably wake up when it stops playing."

Of course, Fluffy was much less impressive when he was slumbering, paws crossed together and tongues lolling out of mouths as air whistled out of nose.

"Problem," Daphne hissed, "the harp's music is slowing down!"

That was true. The sound was decreasing in nose as it slowed gradually and the three of them shared a frantic realization as the three heads began to shake themselves into wakefulness, jaws yawning to expose sharp canines.

Hope was not a great singer, but she wasn't about to give up stopping now; Fluffy was just an obstacle to face.

"Upon one summer's morning, I carefully did stray,

Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay"

Her voice faltered in some places and she wasn't entirely sure that she was using the right tempo, but it was about as musical as she was going to get. The song was one that had been scribbled into Salazar's journal with a more feminine hand than his, leading Hope to believe it was Nelda, she was the sea-witch, after all.

Daphne and Hermione looked at her in surprise. Neither could sing on command and Hermione knew her voice wasn't suited for it.

"Conversing with a young lass, who seem'd to be in pain,

Saying, William, when you go, I fear you'll ne'er return again."

Hope's heart raced, waiting for the heads of the Cerberus to make up its mind; ease into wakefulness and attack or return to slumber deep. And it was with great relief that the heads relaxed, eyes blinking lazily as they dropped back to sleep.

"My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,

There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold."

Hope made a jerking motion to her friends, eyes jumping to the trapdoor that one of the paws rested against and they spurred into action. The song could only last for so long.

"His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal

My happiness attends him wherever he may go

From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I wander, weep and moan,

All for my jolly sailor, until he sails home"

They pushed against the paw until Daphne could grip the ring of the trapdoor, creaking it open. All three peered down into the darkness.

"Lumos," Hermione murmured as Hope went on to the next verse, but the light didn't illuminate what lay beyond. "Are you seeing anything, because I'm not."

"Nothing," Daphne said, glancing to Hope who shrugged, still keeping a steady stream of song. "Leap of faith, you think?"

All three shared a look.

"I'll go first," she added brazenly before Hermione or Hope could stop her, dropping out of sight quickly, leaving Hope and Hermione to share wide-eyed looks.

"Daphne?" Hermione called cautiously as Hope went on to the next verse.

"Here," came the reply. "It's all right, the landing's soft."

Hermione cast a nervous look to Hope before swallowing her fears and lowering herself to sit at the edge, scooting off of it with a definite yelp.

"My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,

There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold."

Hope took a deep breath and jumped through the hole before the beast had the chance to realize that the music had stopped.

She landed on something strange in texture, much different than what she'd been expecting, but even Hope didn't know what that was. Her fingers smoothed over it; it was like vines wound together.

And Hope couldn't help but release a loud yell when it moved under her, trying to make a grab for her as she got quickly to her feet, stumbling backwards to avoid the vines seeking to catch a hold of her.

Where were Hermione and Daphne? There could've been only seconds –less than thirty, she was sure– between when she'd jumped and when Hermione had…so where were they?

"You need to relax!" A voice called up from what Hope was sure must've been beneath the trappings of vines.

"Hermione?" Hope called nervously as a vine trapped her ankle before she could get loose, the grip tight enough to cut off circulation if prolonged. She tugged and more sprang after.

"It's Devil's Snare!" Daphne's voice piped up to add to Hermione's.

Devil's Snare…there'd been a question about it on their exam…hadn't there? Or was that from one of the exams Remus had given them? They'd all blurred together…

But where her brain failed her, her faith in her friends did not. She stilled her movements, no matter how much it strained her to do so. For a moment, nothing happened, nothing other than the tendrils of vines slowly stilling.

Hope breathed a sigh of relief only to release a startled noise when she was dragged through the vines downwards only to be dropped beneath. Her feet hit the ground and her ankles crumpled.

"Hope? Are you all right?" Her friends were kneeling next to her.

"I'm fine," Hope said, rubbing at her ankle where there was a harsh red mark from tightness of the vine that had wound there.

"I didn't know you could sing," Daphne remarked in surprise.

"Not very well," Hermione allowed herself a small smile and Hope's expression soured as they both giggled.

"It was in Salazar's journal," Hope replied defensively. "I think it was Nelda's. It was the only song I could think of."

"Lucky too," Daphne agreed, looking up at the vines as Hope drew herself to stand once more, swiping at her trousers. "Imagine if Hermione had tried to sing."

"Hey!" Hermione complained.

"And lucky someone remembered how to get out of Devil's Snare," Hope cast the pair of them a grateful glance.

Hermione smiled and Daphne nodded before leading them down the pathway to what the three could only assume was the path to the next obstacle.

"How many obstacles d'you think are guarding the Stone?" Hope murmured, though in the silence it came out much louder than she'd anticipated.

"Seven probably," Daphne replied, her brow wrinkled in thought. "We're big on the number seven here, it's the most powerful magical number."

"What d'you think will happen if Quirrell gets the Stone?" Hermione asked, trailing one hand over the wet walls as they journeyed deeper and a sound not unlike wings ahead.

"I think the Elixir of Life would probably restore Voldemort's health," Hope said.

"You think he's really survived after all this time?" Daphne's blue eyes gleamed in the darkness. "Like Firenze said?"

Hope paused and the girls stopped with her, both gauging her reaction.

Hermione was pale, the color that made her face shine of a rich walnut leeching in a single moment, her French braid coming undone, and Daphne's eyes were wild, her fingers twitching slightly with unease. Hope knew she must've looked as young and afraid as they were, but that didn't stop her.

She remembered the flash of green and the high-pitched laughter, louder in her own mind than it had been before.

"I do," she said with a certainty she hoped to convey. "And I think it would be very bad if he got his body back."

"What's that sound?" Hermione said suddenly, her eyes glancing behind Hope in such a way that it made her twist around violently, expecting to someone there, but there was nothing there. Her relief almost strangled her. "It's like…I don't know, not a ghost…maybe something with wings?"

"Wings?" Daphne repeated dubiously, listening hard. "What kind of obstacle would involve birds?"

"Maybe one where they attack us," Hope suggested as the three of them linked their arms together.

"Maybe," Hermione had to concede in agreement as the rustling sound grew louder as they reached the end of the corridor, stepping into a chamber filled with an eerie light, its ceiling arched and rounded, extending upwards almost farther than could be seen.

Hope's eyes were fixed on the things fluttering about overhead. "They're not birds," she realized. "They're…I think they're keys!"

"Keys?" Daphne goggled, following her line of sight to watch them in awe, but they were indeed keys. Bronze and gold and silver keys fluttering overhead with their own little wings. "They look so weird."

"Oh, that's clever!" Hermione's eyes were gleaming even as she left Daphne and Hope to examine the locked door that no doubt led to the next challenge, one that not even an Alohomora could open. "One of them must unlock the door, but you have to get the right one or it won't work."

Daphne moved to examine the door's lock, her fingers smoothing over the wrought-metal. "It's going to be silver, probably, to match the lock."

Hope tilted her head back to scrutinize the keys flitting about above them. The bronze ones were the prettiest; she wondered if that had been on purpose. The trouble was there were so many keys and they were all overlapping one another, making it difficult to pinpoint the silver ones that Hope had already given a once over.

It seemed to take an eternity to find, but at last her eyes caught it, a silver key with blue feathers crumpled.

She pressed a hand to her temple, right next to her right eye. "Máti estíasis," she said barely above a whisper, her eyes glowing green. It was a very simple spell, one for focusing on one particular item in the line of sight, but it was also rather incomplete, turning everything in her view –to her, at least– blue, with the key in particular that she'd been focusing on, gleaming white. It was rather like looking through blue-tinged lenses.

How was she supposed to get a winged key that high up?

Her foot nudged a broomstick, knocking it loose from where it was resting against the wall. She smirked; perfect.

"I'm going to try and catch it," she said, turning her eyes on her friends and both of them had to balk at the unearthly glowing blue of her eyes that was a side-effect of the spell.

"Hey, Hope—!"

But she'd already grabbed the broom and vaulted into the air, leaping without looking, spinning up into a storm of winged keys.

"I hate it when she does that," Hermione grumbled.

Hope was much better at flying than they were, but she'd had a bit more practice at it, flying off to that small island to practice her Earth Magick in the early morning. She wasn't great by any means; she'd almost crashed into the wall three times, tight turns were not her friend.

"How d'you think she's doing?" Hermione asked dubiously.

"No idea," Daphne said, wincing when Hope actually collided with the wall with a yelp, sliding off of it the second her fingers snagged a battered wing, and falling 20 feet to the ground heavily on her side.

Her side throbbed as she rolled onto her back and the haze of keys above her calmed.

"Hope!"

Daphne and Hermione rushed to her side, worry clear on their faces as Hope wheezed slightly, the key still clutched in her hand.

"M'fine," Hope managed, massaging at her side with a wince. "This is why I stick to the ground, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Daphne snorted as she held out a hand to pull Hope upright, still massaging at her bruised side.

"What would Remus say?" Daphne responded.

"Don't be so reckless," Hope said without missing a beat, the wings of the key fluttering weakly against her hand as they moved towards the door, and Hope slipped it into the lock and twisted the door, allowing all three to push through and slam it shut behind them.

"You're bad for my heart," Hermione informed her friend decisively.

"Yeah, well, I don't think that's likely to change anytime soon," Hope replied, sounding as exhausted as one could be after falling several feet.

"That'll be helpful in the future, when we're getting ourselves into trouble later," Daphne said dryly, which earned her two glares that she couldn't see in the current darkness, but when they stepped forward slowly with arms outstretched to keep from potentially running into anything, the chamber filled with enough light to make them wince.

What they saw Hope decided could be rather problematic.

The chamber they'd stepped into was much larger than the previous one, but that was to accommodate the life-size chessboard complete with chess-pieces towering over them, ready to be moved.

Both Hope and Hermione turned to look at Daphne so suddenly that the blonde blinked, and then she glowered with her hands on her hips and her shoulders slightly hunched.

"You've got to be kidding me. Am I the only one here with any skill in chess?" Daphne demanded, her voice echoing loudly in the silence.

Hope and Hermione shared a look and then nodded vigorously as one.

Daphne groaned loudly. Hope had her own Wizarding chess set and she did find it interesting from time to time, but Hermione had never had a particular aptitude for it; compared to them, Daphne was uniquely skilled.

She considered their options, looking from the pair to the black pieces closest to them. The safest position was the king, given the situation, because she was almost completely certain that it was exactly like wizard's chess, which meant the pieces would move on their own accord and destroy each other on their own accord with only small instructions from the players. Daphne didn't fancy getting thrown across the board if her piece was unlucky enough to be hit by the opposite side.

"I'll take the king," she said loudly and the piece moved off her board to allow her to take his space.

"What about us?" Hermione asked as Daphne took a step forward towards the space.

"No, you two should just stay back." She was so certain and so serious that Hope and Hermione didn't question it as she took to the chess board alone.

She thought about her Nana standing over her when she was a little girl, a spear in hand, her eyes slate grey and serious.

"You are a child of Adrestia, Daphne," Nana had said, "keep the balance, that is what our family is best at."

Daphne hadn't been put in Slytherin because she wanted it the most, she'd been put in Slytherin because it suited her the best, because cleverness and ambition was within the blood that was racing through her veins even now. What they were doing was dangerous, you would have to be blind to not see that, but someone had to get to the end and stop You-Know-Who, if he was indeed there with Quirrell. Daphne needed to be rational about the whole thing; doing so was the only thing keeping her from shaking too terribly.

The white pieces always moved first at chess, so Daphne waited for the white pawn to move into place before she considered her own attack.

"Pawn to F4," she said and the game began.

Chess had always been more of her father's thing. Her mother had always rolled her eyes, hefting the spear Nana had gotten her when she was younger. Daphne had only seen her use it once, but she couldn't help but wonder which she should prize more, physical strength or mental strength.

But it was times like these that Daphne couldn't help but be relieved that her father's skill in the subject was so ingrained in her.

The game progressed slowly with Hope and Hermione watching nervously from sidelines, wincing every time a piece was destroyed.

"She seems to be doing all right," Hermione muttered, looking over the pieces still on the board. There were currently more black pieces than white, which was the only upside as it was, seeing how far out of reach the white king was.

"Better than I would've been doing," Hope had to acquiesce. Daphne's eyes were narrowed and her jaw tight.

"You do know I can hear you, right?" Daphne's dry tone echoed and both girls shared a sheepish smile. "Knight to C7."

The knight moved slowly across the board, and in the next move, the rook that had taken up residence beside Daphne was smashed, forcing her to cover her head to protect it from flying shards of stone.

She removed her arms from her head, wincing as she did so, looking down to see a sharp piece of rock stuck in her arm. It wasn't very large, but big enough to be painful, if how she was gritting her teeth to hold back a scream, her face white in pain, clutching at the arm as she knelt on the ground.

Hope's breath caught in her throat and Hermione gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth.

"Queen," Daphne hissed through gritted teeth, "to F6." In destroying the rook, there'd been an open space left enough for Daphne's queen to move diagonally to firmly block the white king. "Checkmate."

The white king lifted a hand to grasp its crown and throw it to the ground. The remaining chess pieces moved aside to show the door that had been hidden until then and Hermione and Hope rushed onto the board to their friend's side.

"D'you know any good healing spells?" Hermione asked Hope worriedly as they both looked over Daphne's injury.

It didn't look terrible, considering, but Hope didn't think she'd had a lot of experience with serious injuries.

"Er, one or two," Hope said, trying to force her scattered brain to function properly, trying to recall the Greek words scrawled across the pages, recited in Salazar's voice. He'd sliced the palm of her hand open once to prove a point, forcing her heal it herself. Hope hadn't liked the way that lesson had gone but her complaints had always died in her throat at the sight of his stony stare.

"Any Earth Witch worth their salt needs to know how to heal if they're in a dire situation that requires it," was all he'd said on the matter.

"Hold still," Hope said, swallowing her unease, her hand positioned over the shrapnel and then she grasped it and yanked it out in a single motion.

Daphne released a scream that echoed as the blood spilled from the wound, dampening her arm in red.

Hope clasped her hand over the injury, over the wet glide of her blood, intoning: "Therapévo."

Her eyes glowed green and under her hand the broken skin knitted itself together, leaving only the spillage of blood over her arm as any indication that there'd been a wound there previously.

"Thanks," Daphne gasped, relief present once the pain was gone and Hope nodded, looking down at her hand where Daphne's blood remained.

Hope had never been particularly squeamish about blood, but there was something about the idea of Daphne's blood on her hands that made her stomach twist in on itself.

Hermione was in tears, or as close as she was going to it, her body shaking, her chin trembling, and tears clinging desperately to her eyelashes.

"I'm all right," Daphne assured her quickly, recognizing the look and siphoning off the remaining blood with her wand. "See? Not even a scar."

But the whole thing had been very startling and just that side of horrifying.

And Hermione kept a tight grip on Daphne's arm as they helped her upright, a little unsteady on her feet, but determined to continue all the same.

The next obstacle had already been defeated, which was both helpful and worrying, in the form of a troll slumped on the ground, unconscious and unaware of them, forcing them to curve around its legs with their hands over their noses to keep the smell at bay as much as they could in order to reach the next door.

Hope ushered them inside before shutting it behind them. The next room was much smaller with a table that held seven oddly shaped bottles and black flames flickering and extending high in the doorway that undoubtedly lead onwards.

If Hope hadn't been so worried about time, she might've looked on the parchment next to the bottles with interest alongside Hermione, but as it was, time was something they couldn't afford to lose.

The thing was, Hope preferred not to use Flashing, Salazar's form of instantaneous travel that could be potentially dangerous over long distances, at Hogwarts for a good reason.

Ah well, it was for a good cause, she supposed.

So she grasped each of their shoulders before they could have even moved and focused on what she could see beyond the fire and stepped forward, dragging her friends with her, and the next thing any of them knew, they had passed just beyond the flames, so close that they could feel the heat of it on their backs.

For a moment they didn't move, just standing there, close to the fire.

"Why aren't we moving?" Hermione whispered.

"I was waiting to see if the fire was fool-proofed," Hope responded just as quietly, keeping her voice quiet, but she relaxed slightly, releasing her tight grip on her friends' robes as they came out into the last chamber.

Hope recognized the mirror instantly, the grooves and words carved painstakingly by Salazar's steady hand. It made her glower at the person standing before it.

"Paws off," she snarled almost reflexively, her eyes darkening to a solid black and Quirrell twisted around to consider the three of them standing there.

It was like looking at a completely different person. There were none of Quirrell's usual twitches that Hope had grown so accustomed to over the year, none of the ones that she had found herself watching carefully over the last few months. He was a good actor, she had to grudgingly admit; he hadn't slipped up once.

"Ah, Potter, Granger, and Greengrass," Quirrell said without a trace of a stutter, "of course. You can't find one without the other two."

"That sounds like an insult," Daphne muttered to Hermione.

"I wondered if you'd be following me down here." His eyes had gained a manic gleam. "But you realized it ages ago, didn't you?"

"W-we were there when you and Snape had that argument in the Forbidden Forest," Hermione managed to force out rather bravely given how Hope could feel her knees shaking. They were all scared, but Hope thought she was hiding the best out of the three, or perhaps Daphne was the best at it; a glance to her side told her Daphne's expression had settled into a stony mask.

Quirrell gave a tutting noise with his tongue. "Eavesdropping is a vice, Granger."

"You cursed me," Hope retorted without bothering to point out that the girls had actually been in the forest first, it wasn't like they'd been following Quirrell and Snape at the time.

"I didn't think you'd noticed." He sounded vaguely amused, like she was a dog that had learned a new trick. It grated on her nerves. "It would've been simpler if that curse killed you…but perhaps it was too mild to do the trick."

"I guess if derailing the Quidditch stands didn't work, let's curse an eleven year old, that sounds like a great idea," Hope spoke with a bite before she could stop herself and Hermione's grip tightened over elbow and Daphne aborted a snort.

Something darkened behind his eyes and he took a step forward, away from the mirror and towards the girls, all who took a step back, unnerved and frightened. "How did you lift my curse?"

There was something in the back of her mind, a suggestion to goad him with knowing that she'd done it through the Ancient Arts, but this time Hope held her tongue, jutting her chin in defiance.

"It doesn't matter," he said a moment later and Hope had to wonder if he was actually disappointed, "after my screw-up on the Quidditch pitch I knew I had to be more subtle. Snape kept an annoyingly close watch on me."

Hope couldn't hide her surprise, and she doubted the other two could as well. Snape wasn't exactly her biggest fan, in fact, he might be the exact opposite of her biggest fan. Despised might be a better word to describe how he felt about her.

"You three," he said with a decisive sneer, "have been a thorn in my side since the beginning."

And before the three could even move, or even breathe, he'd flicked his wand and ropes wound tightly around each of them. Hope almost teetered over and Hermione gave a sharp wheeze at how tight they were around her; Daphne alone seemed to handle the restraint the best, though her eyes flashed furiously. "With the chaos on Halloween, I could never really be sure. For all I knew one of you had seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"That was you?" Daphne couldn't help but demand. "You let that troll in?"

"Of course," Quirrell said blandly, his eyes sweeping over her, a smirk playing on his lips, "I have a special gift with trolls –you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off –and not only did my troll fail to beat any of you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly."

"Pity," Hope said sharply and he ignored her.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter, Granger, Greengrass. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

Hope growled when his fingers ran along its frame with a murmur of "This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," that Hope couldn't hope to comprehend in the moment. "Keep touching it and when I get out of these—" And she gave a vicious tug at her bindings. "—I'm going to find a curse to break your fingers."

That made him laugh. "And here I thought you weren't the type to be physically violent."

"That's my grandfather's mirror," Hope practically seethed, her hair turning bronze and her skin going bloodless to match. In her anger, her features had shifted to replicate the most powerful being she knew, Thanatos, but Quirrell had no way of knowing that.

That made him turn around to consider her dubiously. "Your grandfather?" he repeated.

"Did I fucking stutter?" Hope snapped. She didn't generally swear like that, but her mouth was only reacting to the rage she was feeling.

"Hm," he said, narrowing his eyes at her. "The mirror is the key to finding the Stone…a blood relative could work I suppose…"

"I've got a question," Hermione said rather loudly, almost too loudly, truth be told, but Hope wasn't going to mention it in their current situation. "You were the Muggle Studies teacher before, but You-Know-Who was always anti-Muggle, why would he join up with you?"

Hope could've sworn that she heard a faint hissing coming from the direction of the Quirrell's turban.

Quirrell's lip curled and Hope couldn't help but think it was because Hermione was a Muggle-born. "It was more about the opportunity I afforded him," he acquiesced, "as a professor at Hogwarts. Defense had always been something I was rather singularly gifted in. I took a year-long sabbatical to gain first-hand experience, at least," he smirked, "that was what I told Dumbledore."

"This keeps getting better and better," Daphne muttered snidely.

"I'd dreamed of being the one to find what remained of the once great Dark Lord." His eyes gleamed. "And find him I did, in Albania. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me."

He paled suddenly at a previous memory and Hope frowned. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…"

Quirrell's words trailed off as he considered the mirror once more and a shiver ran down her spine as a voice seemed to emanate from the turban.

"Use the girl," it hissed. "Use the girl."

Hope yelped as the ropes fell away and she was dragged away from her friends and before the mirror despite their complaints.

"Hey!" Hermione cried angrily.

"Hands off!" Daphne snapped.

Unfortunately both were ignored.

His grip on Hope's robes was tight as he held her in place right in front of the mirror. For a moment it was just her, frightened and small, just a slip of a girl at eleven short years, looking so very much like Thanatos' daughter with her mother's coloring, but the image before her grew, as she knew it would. Within seconds there was the image of Hope all grown up and leaning against the side of a pirate ship, practically glowing with power. Hope could see Daphne and Hermione behind her, and Remus and the Blackwoods.

Her older version winked, holding the Philosopher's Stone easily in her hand, crimson and rough in her hand.

Crimson and rough in Hope's own hand.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she tightened her grip on the stone that was now held in her left hand.

The reflection in the mirror raised a finger to her lips for silence, winking before lifting the hand up, her eyes glowing green and Hope watched as the stone sank into her hand and the reflection showed her the palm where the image of the stone was painted across like a tattoo on her skin.

Hope remembered the spell. It wasn't very complicated, though usually designed for hiding weapons on the body. Hope had long suspected the spell was one that Nelda had created that her mother had simply added to her book.

"Well?" Quirrell demanded of her, twisting her to face him. "What do you see?"

Hope hated Death Eaters just as much as she hated Voldemort himself, they had done just as much damage as he had in the war, and true Quirrell might not have been a Death Eater and Death Eaters might not have been the ones that killed her parents, but anyone so willing to follow someone as depraved as Voldemort so blindly…they didn't deserve anything of her.

She glared viciously at him, fortified in her anger. "Go to Tartarus," she spat, tightening her grip on the stone as fury overtook Quirrell and he drew his wand and the next thing Hope knew she'd gone flying into the wall.

Her stomach burned and her back ached from the attack, her eyes ringing enough that it made it a little hard for her to make out the combined scream and yell from Hermione and Daphne.

The stone was still in her hand, the grip so tight that it was painful. "Apókrypsi stoicheíou," she said quietly and nothing could quite describe the sensation of feeling and watching the stone sink into her skin, leaving only an image painted over the skin.

She groaned as she pulled herself upright, eyes flitting towards her friends, terrified and trapped. "Doreán," she whispered and their bindings loosened as Hope heard a high voice, not unlike the high-pitched laughter she had grown accustomed to in her darkest dreams.

"Let me speak to her…face to face…"

That voice alone made her legs tremble where they held her up.

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell tried to say before abruptly cringing.

"I have strength enough…for this…"

And with those words spoken, Quirrell lifted his hands to begin unwinding the cloth from around his head until all that was left was Quirrell's completely bald head. It would've been rather anticlimactic if that had been all it was, but then he turned on his heel and Hope took a step back, going so pale that she was almost green.

The back of Quirrell's hand bore upraised grooves that formed into a face, a second face on a single head, but this one wouldn't have looked right on a living body. It was much paler than Quirrell's, milk-white, with eyes as red as Hope's used to get when she was angry, and a nose flattened with slits not unlike a snake's. Hope felt faint; probably the only thing keeping her from passing out was thinking about how Quirrell with his two faces made her think of Janus, the Roman god with two faces.

It took her a moment to realize she'd stopped breathing temporarily and her heart was racing in her chest.

Hope's eyes flitted towards the girls briefly, struck dumb in horror and Hermione's eyes fixed on hers.

'Mirror' was all she mouthed and Hope frowned, looking to the Mirror of Erised before fixing her eyes back on Voldemort's face.

"Hope Potter," Voldemort whispered and Hope found she didn't like how he said her name, "you see what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour… I have form only when I can share another's body, but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…"

The mirror…what had Salazar said about the mirror?

"When I was making it, something went wrong, I could never quite say, but somehow an extendable pocket of space ended up within the mirror itself, as though it was a cupboard instead of a mirror."

It was a good place to hide…

She didn't dare look to meet Hermione's eyes to nod that she'd understood what she was thinking.

"Unicorn blood has strengthened me these past weeks…and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don't you give me that Stone?"

Hope did something both very brave and very stupid. She brought up her arm up, her hand to her shoulder before flinging it out with an incantation of Greek that threw Quirrell's body back and against the wall.

"Pýli tou kathréfti," Hope called out, extending a hand towards the mirror and its surface rippled.

Hermione took initiative without being told to do so and she grabbed Daphne, dragging her along and through the mirror before it solidified behind them.

Performing two spells at once was rather difficult and taxing given how undeveloped Hope's magical core was, and she'd had to drop the spell keeping him against the wall almost instantly, slightly disorientated.

"SIEZE HER!"

Hope choked as the hands closed around her throat, the pain from her forehead blinding her. She couldn't get any breath in. Hope's hands felt cold as she grabbed at his hands. She was too focused on trying to breathe that she didn't see why Quirrell screamed in fear.

Quirrell screamed in pain. "Master, I cannot hold her –my strength -my life!"

Hope tore her eyes open just as he released her, and in the moments after they separated Hope could just faintly see thin black veins from where their skin had met. Hope had never seen anything like it before.

"Then kill her, fool, and be done!"

Hope reacted before he did, moving quickly to press her hands against his face. The black veins returned, drawing up her arms, disappearing beneath the edge of her sleeves. The pain in her forehead dulled, the edge of her fainting spell eased.

Quirrell released a mighty scream at the touch of his skin, not of pain, but of fear, something Hope didn't quite understand until it later. It was a few moments of struggling weakly before he went still and fell back to the ground, an unmoving corpse. Hope stared in horrified awe, the black veins fading as quickly as they had come. There was a ripple through the air and then there was nothing; Voldemort was gone. Hope was alone with the mirror that her friends were hiding within.

She massaged her throat, intoning the incantation once more to allow them to fall out.

"Oh, Merlin, Hope are you all right?" Hermione was clutching tightly at her shoulders, her face tight with worry. "I wanted us all to go through and hide!"

"We probably wouldn't have all fit," Daphne pointed out practically, "besides, he was more interested in Hope than us." Her blue eyes flashed as though roved over Hope's throat where she'd been grabbed. "Are you all right?"

"I'll live," Hope assured them, the ache of her throat faded as though she'd never been choked in the first place.

She curled her fingers up to brush against the image of the Philosopher's Stone against her palm.

The idea that Voldemort could use the Elixir of Life to return to life had been too troubling to consider that when Albus told him that the Stone had vanished three days previously amidst what had apparently been a skirmish between the Dark Lord himself –borrowing the form of one of the school teachers– and three third year students, which had been an impressive feat by itself. Still, maybe it was best that it stay lost.

"Nicolas Flamel?" a young voice asked as he descended the stairs that led up to Albus' office and he turned to see a small girl standing there, watching him rather expectantly. She was wearing a lavender dress to match the sprig in her crown braid and the lightning bolt scar on her forehead wasn't hidden.

"Yes?" Nicolas said with a bit of surprise, and he couldn't help but get the feeling that she'd been waiting for him.

"My name's Hope Potter," the girl said, offering her hand to him and he shook it, "I have your Stone."

That made him balk slightly, seeing as he'd been told that three third years had been involved in keeping it out of Voldemort's hands, and the girl before him was the right age for a first year.

"I thought three third years were involved," he voiced his thoughts and her lips curled.

"My friends and I skipped a grade…or two," Hope said before drawing his attention to the palm of her hand, where the image of his Stone remained. "I'd be happy to return it to you…but I was wondering if I might borrow it for a week?"

"You want to borrow my Stone?" he asked dubiously. "For which purpose?"

The Potters had always been rather wealthy, so it couldn't be that…but what use was the Elixir of Life to an eleven year old whose life had hardly begun?

"I heard it can make unrefined gold," Hope said, her eyes gleaming, "several enchantments I've been looking into require it, and all I have is refined gold."

Nicolas considered her. "What kind of magic?"

"Earth Magick," Hope said, her shoulders tightening and her eyes narrowing as she stared back, daring him to question her use of magic, as many often did.

That surprised him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard someone trying their hand at Earth Magick, much less a child.

"One week," he found himself saying. A test of honour, if she'd hold her word. "That is all."

"Thank you," Hope gave him a smile before turning on her heel and practically skipping away.

What a curious girl.

"What're they doing?" Daphne asked Angelina, listening to the twins' debate what was evidently different locations within their house.

All of her things were packed and she was ready to head out on the train. The past few days had been enough stress for her to last the rest of the week, at the very least.

Unfortunately, news about all that had transpired in the chamber under the school had spread like wildfire –Daphne wasn't really surprised, just irritated about it– it was all anyone would talk about the past few days. Slytherin House only liked to acknowledge her and Hope when it was convenient for them, such as why two Slytherins who had risked their lives for the Philosopher's Stone weren't being rewarded for it.

She had to admit it was an odd way to go, given how certain Hope was that Dumbledore wanted to get on her good side, or maybe it was because of how Hope had gone about it, using her Earth Magick.

Daphne couldn't really be sure.

Hope, on the other hand was sitting next to Lee Jordan, an eyebrow arched as she listened to both boys. Hermione was sitting across from her beside Alicia, reading one of her books, shaking her head at Fred and George's antics.

"They're trying to figure out a place to hide all their joke item notes without their mother finding out," Angelina snorted. "They're running out of places, I think."

"Under that board in the broom cupboard?" Fred suggested.

"Nah, she found that one last year, remember?" George pointed out.

"Oh, yeah."

"Or you could just leave them at my place?" Hope offered and they whipped their heads around to look at her. "I've got a potions room at the manor and I need someone to water my plants when Remus and I head down to Greece. You can disappear off to the manor for a few hours to work on some prank items and she won't even notice."

"You have a potions room?" Fred had never looked quite so excited.

"I love you," George agreed, winding his arms around her small frame and kissing her cheek loudly. Their friends laughed but Hope wasn't impressed.

"Oh, get off me!" she practically bodily pushed him off her, ignoring his wide grin and holding out her hand expectantly. "I'll keep your notes away from your mother, no problem."

"When're you going to Greece?" Fred asked, handing over the booklet full of their notes on ideas for a possible joke shop without a second thought.

"A little over a week," Hope said, tucking it under her arm, "Remus is teaching a seminar to the Greek Aurors and my cousin Aggie's very excited about me coming for awhile."

She patted his arm sympathetically. "I'll owl you lot when you can come over." And then she and Hermione and Daphne made their way out of the hall.

"Mark my words," Daphne said, looping her arm through Hope's as Hermione did the same, "one day that boy is going to be so far gone on you."

"Oh, shut up," Hope said, turning pink.

Their laughter belled out as they continued out of Great Hall and off into the courtyard, the sky clear and the sun bright, a proper send-off, a perfect way to end their third year.

AN: Book one is finally done! And I'm so glad, because book two is the one I'm the most excited about, but I'm going to take a little break before starting the next chapter because this chapter was exhausting.

As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

*Chapter 18*: The Tower

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

Serpent Tongue: Chapter Eighteen: The Tower

AN: That last chapter was exhausting, but I'm glad you all enjoyed it, because book 2 is where shit goes down and it's a major turning point for Hope, like book 5 was for LB!Hope, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I will be.

It's been brought up that the end of Book 1 was similar to canon, and there's a reason for that, but things will be drastically different in this book, I can assure you, and will be the most Greek Myths-heavy of all the books.

Galen hadn't been to the Gates of Tartarus until his mother had woke him up that morning with a stony expression on her face, telling him to follow her and to grab his sword.

Of course, they'd always gone on those hikes up that mountain when they were younger, but he'd never dreamed that the Gates were on that mountain. It was almost a letdown when he saw them.

His mother had told him and Aggie the stories surrounding the Gates since they were young enough to understand, and he understood their significance. He understood that all the ancient monsters came from Tartarus, that was the way it had always been, all the way back to Ancient Greece. Of course, the Gates were closed, as they should be, but they had been opened briefly several centuries previously, only being shut by the blood sacrifice of Iolanthe Potter. He doubted Hope even knew of her distant ancestor and what she had sacrificed.

There were a few stray monsters that roamed Greece that still hungered for the blood of the innocent and the blood of the gods. They multiplied like rabbits, soaking up negative emotions, but Galen hadn't seen as many in years, not since that harpy tried to kill Aggie when she was younger.

The Gates was really just an arch of stone, worn down age and covered with creeping vines, at least, that's what Galen had thought, but his mother's face was too pale.

"What's wrong?"

Her eyes narrowed on the arch. "Someone's been chipping away at the Gates…Thanatos is worried."

Galen's lips drew downwards. The last time anything really godly had happened had been when Aggie was six that someone had killed a legacy of the Roman goddess of truth, Veritas, a woman that had been the girlfriend of the mother of Aggie's friend Ajax. No one had found the culprit, but rumours were that it was an Other, an Álloi, the group that had despised the offspring of the gods for as long as they'd existed.

When Galen was younger he'd thought it all was a bit too complicated for him. What was the point of people hating you for something you couldn't control? But Galen had learned by now that some people couldn't be reasoned with.

"Who could've done it?" Galen asked, his voice hushed and stunned. "I didn't think there were any Others left."

"Thanatos says there is only one," Thalia said, dragging her eyes from the stone arch to rest on her child. "He won't say who, of course, and sometimes I wonder if he even knows…but we need to be prepared."

"Are you going to tell Hope?" Galen asked when something not unlike black smoke hissed from one of the cracks made in the Gates to solidify into a manticore with a red lion body and human head full of sharp teeth.

"Later," she said decisively as both gripped their swords and swung over the stone they'd been crouching behind, poised to fight.

The first thing Hope did as soon as she'd woken up on the third day of summer break was look for a map of the property. Charlus' records were extensive and included maps of everything within the borders of the Potter Lands. It stretched much farther than she thought possible, but then again, she had never really been very far within it.

Hope frowned as she looked over the map with interest, focusing in on one spot in particular that was shaped like a chess rook and labelled with a tiny script that said: the Tower.

There were small labels all over the map, listing forest thickets and rivers and lakes, nothing too big, but the Tower…that one was interesting to her.

Hope rolled the map up and stood, turning around only to realize something was different about her office.

That sword definitely wasn't there before. She would've recognized the sword, she was sure, especially one that was resting on her desk. It wasn't like Galen's, he'd shown his to her, and it was a xiphos, a double-bladed short sword made of iron.

This one was a contrast to Galen's, she thought, longer and more alike in appearance to the rapier than anything else as she grasped the scabbard, pulling it up just slightly.

"Aegean Iron," a voice mentioned and Hope whirled around to see Thanatos sitting there in one of the leather seats she had pushed against the wall close to the unlit fireplace. He was wearing a suit vest and looked rather like he was going to a business meeting instead of reaping souls. "Works wonders against the monsters of Tartarus."

Hope was familiar with Tartarus, of course, just as she was familiar with many parts of the Greek myths, including Thanatos himself, but she was still thrown off by the statement.

"Um, what?" she asked befuddled, her eyes leaving the sword to fix on Thanatos.

He smiled thinly and tilted his head to consider her. "I'm sure you'll find a blade that suits you better, but until then, this will have to do."

"That doesn't explain anything," Hope pointed out with a bit of annoyance.

"No," he agreed, "but I'm sure Thalia would be more than happy to." His solid onyx eyes moved to the door and a moment later there was a polite knock and Thalia's head peered around the corner with a question of "Hope?"

She opened the door more fully when she saw Thanatos standing there. "Thanatos," Thalia said in surprise, "I wasn't expecting to find you here."

"I'm just dropping off a sword," Thanatos said lightly, standing fluidly with enough grace that Hope was instantly jealous. "I leave her to you, Thalia, try not scare her off, would you, dearest?"

He faded into shadow and darkness, leaving Hope just as befuddled as when he'd arrived.

"What's going on?" she demanded in confusion, turning on her heel towards Thalia before starting in surprise. There was a bruise forming painfully around the edge of her jaw and there scrape over her chin, and her knuckles were painfully white around the hilt of her sword. "Why was Grandfather talking about Tartarus?"

Thalia heaved a heavy sigh, looking so very much older. This was going to take a lot of explaining.

It was only when they'd sat down on the swinging bench surrounded by flowers that Hope had made more than a year ago that Thalia began to explain.

"Back in Ancient Greece, as you know, gods and mortals had a tendency to…" Thalia paused, looking to Hope, who arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Well, there were more relationships between gods and mortals then, and then there were more children of the gods. Naturally," the word twisted oddly in her mouth, "there were those who were against them, and this group didn't think anyone with godly blood could really be considered human in any way, that in some ways, we were as bad as the monsters that roamed at the time."

Her eyes were dark and angry. "This group had a lot of names over the years, but we call them, the Álloi, the Others, and they've certainly did their part to exterminate us like rats." Thalia's lip curled in disdain and Hope stared down at the rapier in her hand, her thumb smoothing over the grooves in the hilt.

Hope almost asked what that had to do with Tartarus, but she kept her mouth shut, thinking that Thalia would get there at some point.

"Monsters were a prevalence in that time due to the Gates of Tartarus, which allowed monsters to freely come through to walk the earth. The Gates were closed for a very long time until the thirteen hundreds, when an Other had them opened once more, only to shut by the blood sacrifice of Thanatos' great-granddaughter, Iolanthe Potter."

Hope started in surprise at that. The name Iolanthe was familiar; she remembered seeing it on the over-large family tree tapestry she kept in the ball room.

"Are the Gates open again?" she asked suddenly.

"No," Thalia sighed in relief, some tension leaving her shoulders, "thankfully not, but someone has manufactured cracks in the archway that makes up the Gates. Fortunately, the Gates can't be broken completely by man-made means, but the damage is enough that from time to time single mythical monsters can pass through." She gestured to the cut and bruising. "I got this from a manticore that tangled with Galen and I."

Hope's heart jumped in her chest. "How's Galen?"

"Broken arm that'll be healed in moments," Thalia assured her. "But the Gates are only part of the reason why I'm here."

Hope's brow furrowed in confusion.

"There are some monsters that do not come from Tartarus—"

"Like harpies?" Hope asked and both of Thalia's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "Aggie might've mentioned something about a harpy."

If Hope was being perfectly honest, when Aggie had brought up monsters and the Gates of Tartarus, she had honestly thought it had been a joke, something to freak her out, but Thalia wouldn't be at Potter Manor explaining it all to Hope in such a serious tone of voice.

"I'll be having words with her," Thalia said wryly.

Oops.

"But, yes," the Auror agreed, "Harpies are one of the types of monsters that do not come from Tartarus. The original ones were from Tartarus, but harpies feed on mindless rage, more can come into being from that, but it's the Keres you want to watch out for."

"The Keres?" Hope wasn't familiar with the term.

"They're spirits of painful death, and they absolutely detest children of Thanatos," Thalia intoned seriously, drawing her shirt to the side in order for Hope to see claw-like scratches over her collarbone.

Hope swallowed thickly.

"I got this when I was twelve, trying to keep my sister safe." Thalia said with a stony expression that only someone who had buried their own blood could look. "Keres are very dangerous and have the tendency to revert to invisible at any point. It's honestly a miracle that you haven't crossed any monsters yet…but that might've been Thanatos' influence."

Thalia eyed Hope in speculation and Hope frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember if she'd ever seen any monsters around.

Her teachers when she'd still been living with the Dursleys had said that she had an overactive imagination, and she wasn't sure if that was what Thalia was talking about.

"How would you feel about learning the art of the sword?" Thalia asked and Hope blinked in surprise.

Hope looked down at the sword in her hands, her expression closed off. Hope had never been very good at violent altercations. Her weapons were her sharp tongue and cold eyes. Dudley had been the physical bully, she'd gotten more than enough bruises from him before he'd gotten unnerved by the stares and how much bad karma he'd appeared to accumulate by bullying her, something he had no way of knowing was a response from Hope's own magic.

"I don't think I'd be very good at it," Hope said finally, her eyes still fixed downwards onto the sword in her hands. "I'm not a very physical person."

It didn't sound very convincing, mostly because she wasn't entirely sure herself. The sword was fashioned like a sword that one might see with pirates, and that made her think of Nelda and The Siren.

"Neither was I," Thalia said and Hope scoffed loudly, earning her a smile. "It's true, I'm afraid the sword never interested me as much as the bow did Aglaia…" Thalia's expression tightened. "I only did so after she'd died."

"Oh," Hope couldn't help the sound that had parted from her lips. None of the Blackwoods hardly talked about Aglaia, Thalia's sister who had died before Galen and Aggie were even born, but Hope would've thought that Thalia had grown up with the sword, just like her cousins had.

Hope floundered, trying to come up with a decent excuse to not to, thinking of the image she'd seen in the Mirror, the self-assured older Hope with a sword at either side, pride in her eyes.

"I'll think about it," was what Hope finally settled on, which was slightly weak of her, she thought later, but Hope had never been very good at quick agreements.

Thalia squeezed her knee. "At least keep the sword on you?"

It wasn't too much to ask.

"How's the planning going?"

Remus was so engrossed that he almost hadn't heard Hope approach, tearing his eyes from the parchment to took to his pseudo-niece. She was bearing a tray of tea that she set down beside him on the table in the library with a smile on her lips.

"Courtesy of Mindy," she added, nodding her head towards the tray.

Remus chuckled. "Of course," he said, dropping his quill in order to lean back in his chair and consider her as he took the cup or tea. "It's going well, I almost have the curriculum worked out."

Hope was amused by his enthusiasm, but she didn't mention it; this was the first job that Remus had had in awhile that was within the magical community with his employers knowing full well his condition.

He had a right to be excited about it.

"Are you sure you don't mind spending the majority of your summer in Greece?" Remus asked. It would be easy enough to just stay at Potter Manor; Greece was only two hours ahead of Wales, and Hope had been talking about doing some extensive exploring of the property.

But Hope cast a dry expression his way. "You're joking, right? Greece has so many ruins, Remus! And Aggie wants to show me everything, trust me, spending more than a month in Greece is going to be the best thing about this break."

Remus laughed. Today her hair was red and dark like Lily's, much darker than Aggie's or Thalia's, and her eyes just as bright a green as ever. She looked more like her mother and he wasn't completely sure if that had been by design. If she was in a very good mood, he knew, her hair was a bit lighter, something turning red, sometimes being more bronze in colour, like Thanatos' was.

"So, what're you up to today?" he asked with an easy smile, taking note of the plaid and denim she was wearing, the type of outfit that Mindy tutted in disapproval at, but also the kind of outfit that Hope wore when she was wandering around outside the manor. The sword at her hip was surprising, but he couldn't quite come up with an appropriate question for its appearance on her person.

"Exploring," Hope grinned, pulling a band off her wrist in order to bundle her hair into a high bun on the top of her head. "Don't wait up."

"All right," Remus called after her as she made her way towards the main doorway that led into the library, "try not to get caught in any ditches."

She threw a scowl over her shoulder, the irritation rolling off them, and Remus couldn't help but hide his smirk and chuckle into the cup of tea he'd been cradling in his hands.

Curiosity is as curiosity does.

Hope had smiled impishly when Mindy had made her disapproval concerning her attire known, but she'd been expecting it. What she hadn't been expecting was the picnic basket that the House Elf had left her.

She drew back the cloth to arch an eyebrow.

Mindy had stuffed Hope's book on Earth Magick into the bottom of the basket, along with a roast beef and swiss sandwich, one apple, a small container of pomegranate seeds, and one for what Hope assumed was tea.

"You're too good to me, Mindy," she said and the House Elf huffed, looking faintly embarrassed as she waved her off.

She looped the basket through her arm, with the map of the property in her other hand as she left through the back door.

The sun was bright overhead, making the grass appear greener and dappling the ground with shadows as Hope passed under the trees.

It was so beautiful out that Hope was glad she'd taken the time to go exploring, even though part of her had wanted to stay inside and work with the Philosopher's Stone. She still had five days left to keep it before returning it to the possession of Nicolas Flamel, as it should've been, and she hadn't yet found a use for it.

The stone was still patterned against the skin of her palm, hidden in the only place that Hope could be certain that it wouldn't be stolen from, because the Philosopher's Stone was too great a prize to leave lying around.

She had an idea for the spell to use with it, but she hadn't tried it yet.

Hope crunched a few stray twigs under her feet as she walked, more focused on the surroundings than what her feet were doing, which might've been why Remus had warned her about ditches, now that she thought about it.

She walked on until she reached the lake that she'd ice skated with Galen, Aggie, and Dianthe back on Christmas Day. The lake was calm and a clear blue, rippling under the stone bridge that went across it. Hope almost went to take off her shoes and dip her toes into the water, but she was a girl on a mission of exploration, and Hope had already been to the lake before.

Hope swung the basket on her arm as she crossed over the bridge, delving deeper into the unknown before pulling the map loose and holding it open before her eyes.

The lake was drawn with a careful hand, one that clearly had had a skill in art, the image of the bridge identical to its real life counterpart.

Her eyes followed a path through a thicket of forests in the direction that led towards the item labelled as the Tower. That was the thing that intrigued her the most, and nothing could deter her on her path towards it.

Hope had been walking for about an hour when she finally stopped for a lunch break against a log that had long since fallen. She sat down on it as she chewed on her sandwich, the smell of saltwater in the air filtering through her nose, causing her to turn and look to the left, trying to see the sea beyond the trees, but it was too far, much too far for her to be able to smell it.

The Call of the Sea.

Salazar had always been so wistful when he'd talked about it, thinking of his daughter, no doubt.

Hope wondered if Aggie could feel it too. She must've, with how she'd talked about finding The Siren and sailing it. No one else would be so excited by the prospect.

She wrinkled her nose and finished the last of her sandwich and her apple and a dozen of the pomegranate seeds before beginning her trek once more.

The branches were thicker as she stepped farther and farther away from Potter Manor, to where it was wilder and older, untouched by time.

Hope smoothed a hand over one trunk of a tree as she walked past. The grass was taller here than it was elsewhere, but not tall enough that Hope was having difficulty moving through it.

Her eyes fell to a single stone arch, worn down by the elements, but somehow still standing. Perhaps it had been a part of something bigger, but nothing but it remained now, chipped and worn and with a few vines tangled around it.

Hope passed under it, continuing on until she saw a hint of her destination through the tree-tops, of stones piled high.

Her feet sped up slightly as she came out of the undergrowth, her eyes glowing as she took in the sight before her.

Just as the map had shown, there was a tower nestled in the overgrown grass. It was sturdy and large, moss and vines creeping up its sides. It stretched above the tree-line, so Hope knew that if she was to stand on the top of it, she might be able to see Potter Manor from her current position.

And there was something about it…Hope couldn't really explain it, it was more like a sensation than anything else, tingling under her skin, warmth in her blood.

Something that said this was a home to Earth Magick, this was a place where Earth Magick has been used frequently.

Her heart skipped a beat inside her chest as she drew closer, coming to stand before the wooden door that led inwards. She dropped the picnic basket beside her, her hand grasping the handle-set, thumb pressing down on the thumb-piece, but the door didn't budge.

"Ugh!" Hope groaned out loud, glowering at the sky. "I didn't walk all this way just to be locked out of a Zeus-forsaken tower!"

She stamped a foot in aggravation and the sole of her shoe came in contact with something hard.

Hope blinked, before kneeling down, her fingers probing in the wet dirt before pulling up a key bronze and heavy in her hand, a skeleton key like the one that locked the pain door at the manor. This one, she thought, wasn't as old as the one that opened the manor, that one was much older.

She scraped off the dirt before sliding it into the slot under the handle-set and twisting, and this time when she pressed down on the thumb-piece, the door creaked open, but Hope still had to press against it to get it to fully open, since it probably hadn't been opened in centuries.

It was dark within, so dark that Hope couldn't even see her own hand in front of her.

"Flóga," she intoned and orange flames erupted in her hand, illuminating enough for Hope to see a lever on the side of the wall. She grasped it firmly, pressing against it, causing flakes of rust to fall from it. It was a bit of work before she managed to work it in a circle, but once she had, a small circle of sunlight had appeared on the floor.

Hope cancelled her spell and tilted her head back to look up to the top of the tower, though it was very far up, but not far enough that she couldn't make out metal fins coming together in a circular pattern, leaving a small opening for light to come through the rather opaque glass just above it.

She twisted it again and again until the fins had disappeared against the rounded walls and sunlight had flooded the tower, allowing Hope to gaze around in awe.

It was certainly much smaller on the outside than it was on the inside, but expansion charms weren't that hard to manufacture.

There was an unlit fireplace with blackened pieces of wood inside, a cauldron hanging down within it. Above it was a painting of a ship out at sea, enchanted and moving against the swirls of the seas, with a nautilus shell, a stray book, a blue patterned jar, and a small container.

There was a peak-shaped window with blue shutters locked against the sunlight.

Two bookshelves were shoved against the curving walls on either side of the window, filled to the brim with books and jars of questionable substances. And next to one of the shelves was a door that led into a small broom cupboard that had a few hooks with cloaks hanging, and a plain witch's hat and a cylindrical container inside which was two wooden staffs and one cane.

The desk shoved close to the stone wall opposite the window was littered with an assortment of things. There were a few letters with wax seals broken, a hand-drawn Wheel of the Year on very worn parchment, several quills with ink that had long since dried, and a broken shell.

Hope approached the desk with renewed interest.

With everything else there was also what looked to be a cloudy crystal ball beside what could've been a human skull marked with alchemy symbols, a wooden box that was heavy upon inspection.

It was…

"Beautiful," Hope murmured, her eyes gleaming as she took everything in. The Tower must've belonged to the last Earth Magick practitioner in the Potter family…whoever that had been, otherwise there would've been no need for Morea's book that Hope had found in the attic what felt like years ago.

She went to pull a book from the bookshelf when she realized that she'd left the picnic basket with her Earth Magick book outside and Hope rushed to grab it and bring it in before shutting the door swiftly behind her.

It was two hours before Hope finally decided to open her book to the section on unrefined gold spells.

Hope stuck a pomegranate seed in her mouth, sucking on it briefly before swallowing as she looked through the pages, looking for a specific spell that could be of any interest to her.

The one that had the most promise was a very complicated four-point protective enchantment, but Hope wasn't all that surprised.

A lot of the more advanced spells, particularly the protection ones, were more involved and required a bit more effort to perform them.

The protection that Hope was looking at seemed pretty handy, keeping others from penetrating within the area that the four markers made.

It called for four black obsidian obelisks with St. John's Wort bound to each one by the wax of a black candle, a few drops of the caster's blood on each, drying before having each obelisk surrounded by unrefined liquid gold.

It was a lot of effort, but it sounded well worth the effort.

Hope opened her hand, looking at the image of the Philosopher's Stone resting against her palm. She was surprised that Mindy or Remus or any of her friends hadn't noticed it, but it wasn't like Hope was showing her palm all the time, and though Hermione and Daphne had seen her use the spell to hide the stone the first time around…or maybe they hadn't. Everything had been happening so fast, even Hope couldn't be sure.

She had to wonder if Nicolas Flamel was honestly expecting her to try to keep the Stone for herself. A more greedy person would, after all, it did make gold and the Elixir of Life. Who wouldn't want that?

But Hope had more than enough gold and she didn't care much for immortality. Death was the only constant in life, and she knew that better than most, and she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the Flamels escaping death for so long.

They reminded her of the story of Sisyphis, the man who had tricked Thanatos, thus allowing himself a longer life.

Still, immortality seemed rather sad, and it was something that Hope had never asked Thanatos about; she didn't want to ask him what it felt like to watch your descendants perish while you remained untouched. That seemed too cruel to phrase into a question.

Hope sat on the floor with the crystals, herbs, candle, and knife around her. She carefully bound the herbs to the crystals before bringing the black candle forward, tilting it slightly so the wax dribbled slowly off the candle and onto the herb and crystal.

It was delicate work, but that was Earth Magick for you, it took time. It was not as instantaneous in its results as wand-magic was, though in many ways it was much stronger. The battle-magic side of Earth Magick was more immediate, simply because it was necessary, though it did have a tendency to be rather taxing, especially if the caster's magical core was still growing and developing; Hope still remembered her bout of blood poisoning from throwing up the strongest shield she knew back during the troll incident.

Hope breathing out slowly as a few more drops of wax fell on the crystal, securing the herb to it, before moving onto the next one.

She lost track of time easily, but in the end it didn't take nearly as long as the thought to drip the wax onto the crystals, and then came the blood.

Hope hefted the athame that she'd found in one of her vaults back when she first started looking into Earth Magick, bringing it to the centre of her hand, bringing it firmly against the skin there.

She winced when the red appeared, but the pain wasn't too terrible and Hope could heal the cut once she was done. Red beads dripped down onto the obelisks, onto the herbs and the wax.

"Therapévo," she murmured and the pain lessened before fading completely and Hope stood to search for the napkin Mindy had left her with her lunch. Hope mopped up the blood, leaving no sign of the cut that had been previously there.

There was a sudden sound of something hard connecting with the floor and Hope jolted where she was kneeling before standing swiftly to move towards the fireplace, bending down to lift the thing that had fallen from the shelf above the fireplace.

It was a rather similar in weight to a coin, but if it was a coin, it was unlike any that Hope had ever seen before, with an Ouroborus, the snake eating its own tail, winding around the edge.

Hope smoothed her thumb across the surface, feeling the grooves carved into the surface of coin, the weight of the chain pooling in her hands. Hope had stopped wearing her cumbersome pentacle necklace some time ago…but she didn't think she'd mind wearing this one.

Her fingers tingled where they touched the metal and when she looped the chain around her neck, sliding the coin beneath her shirt, her skin where it touched felt warm. Maybe it was a talisman of some kind, though the skull and crossbones made her think of pirates and she didn't really know if pirates were known to wear similar symbols.

Green eyes drifted back to the four crystals on the floor, but she wasn't going to be able to continue the spell until the blood was dry, so she might as well do something in her spare time. So she pulled her Earth Magick book from the picnic basket and sat in the chair to begin another chapter within:

The Power

The power at work in Earth Magick is within our bodies as well as within herbs, stones, and other natural products of the Earth. It is not dangerous or evil; nor is it inherently Dark as so many have claimed. Magical power is the power of life itself and, in some cases death, it is both creation and destruction.

That magical power is used in Earth Magick: personal power and that which resides in the earth, in the sea, in the wind, in the flame. By combining these forces, by moving them from within to without and by giving them purpose and direction, Earth Witches create needed changes.

In Earth Magick we must raise and release this magical power. There are many methods used to accomplish this. One of the most effective ways is through your emotions. Emotions can give you the most power, regardless of the intent of the spell in particular. Spells are performed with a need in mind. If you need and want something badly enough, your personal power is focused toward that purpose. In mixing up an incense, you mix in that power. In lighting a candle, you light it with that power.

However, many spells and enchantments are ineffective precisely because the witch wasn't concentrating on the work at hand. Or she or he simply needed something but didn't want it. In either case, personal power wasn't properly transferred to the incense, oil or brew, so it was ineffective.

This doesn't mean that herbs and scents aren't powerful on their own. They are. But just as a fire refuses to light without a spark, so too do herbal mixtures have to be spurred with personal power to get them moving.

Concentration is key in performing Earth Magick, particularly to one just starting out. As the Earth Witch becomes stronger magically, less concentration and focus is needed for spells as long as the intent remains.

Hope was paranoid so she waited half an hour for the blood to dry and bind to the crystals, and by then she was ready for the last part of the spell.

She let her palm open flat with the image of the Philosopher's Stone clear against her skin. She was surprised that Remus hadn't noticed it yet, but he might've been too pressed on working on everything for his class.

"Apokalýptoun éna antikeímeno," she breathed, and watched as the stone rose slowly out of her hand, as if it had been there the whole time.

The red stone was heavy in her hand and it was strange to think that something so small had expended so much effort on Voldemort's part. Hope frowned; why Voldemort would want immortality, she'd never understand and she'd never want to.

Hope pulled her wand out of the basket and undid the shrinking charm that caused a decent sized chunk of metal to appear on the floor beside her.

"Mutatio aurum," Hope hummed, pointing the wand down at the stone, a soft white light shooting from her wand tip to the stone, and then holding the stone out towards the metal, watching it shift before her eyes, lightening and gleaming where the sunlight had poured in through the hole in the ceiling.

"One part down," Hope murmured to herself as she set the stone down on the desk with her wand and moved into the second part of the spell, which was a bit more complicated and entailed reducing the gold to its molten form and then cooling it once the gold had completely covered the crystals.

So it meant Hope was going to be doing two spells at the same time, which was harder to do, and was something she'd had trouble with a few weeks ago when she'd tried it down in the chamber beneath Hogwarts.

"Anelkystíras." She held her arms out, one towards the gold and one towards the crystals.

The bound crystals rose easily into the air, but the gold…its ascent was much harder and Hope could feel the muscle of her arms burning as though she was actually physically holding it up with her own strength.

"Tíko," she hissed towards the gold and it glowed with heat, burning bright before her eyes as the firm metal softened gradually until it was as though she was levitating liquid, though the weight didn't decrease with the change.

Hope hadn't expected it to be so exhausting performing both spells, but clearly she'd underestimated her skills or the weight of the gold. She almost dropped the gold, only managing to keep it hanging in the air at the last possible second.

She gritted her teeth as she used her other hand to bring the bound crystals closer until they disappeared within the unrefined gold.

For a moment nothing happened but then Hope felt it, a ripple through the air, strong and warm, and she knew the spell had succeeded.

"You said she wants to pay you to look after her…plants?"

Arthur arched an eyebrow towards the twins while Molly frowned in a bit of suspicion as she placed the food on the table for dinner. He knew that she was far less trusting of Slytherins than he was, even one that was the famed Girl-Who-Lived, or perhaps it was because Hope Potter was the Girl-Who-Lived and a Slytherin that she was so suspicious. But the twins had never said anything bad about the young Potter, other than griping about spells she'd used on them during their famous prank war.

"Hope's an earth nut," Fred said with a grin, "she's really big on Herbology."

Ron snorted down the table next to Ginny. His best friend was Neville Longbottom, so he knew a thing or two about knowing someone obsessed with plants.

"She's got a greenhouse that's part for magical plants and part for non-magical," George added, "and she said she's going to be spending most of her vacation in Greece."

"Greece?" Molly inquired dubiously and Percy finally worked his way down the stairs to join them. Fred narrowed his eyes; he had no idea why Percy had been writing so many letters since they'd gotten home.

"She's got a cousin or two down there, I think," George said, looking Fred.

"She said her cousin Aggie was really excited about it," Fred shrugged. He didn't see why it really mattered; Hope's family and what she did with them and where she went was her own business.

Arthur hummed. "If she's letting you into her home, keep in mind to be respectful, you two, I'm sure Hope conducts her household a bit different than we do."

Both twins rolled their eyes but they agreed to be respectful, after all, Hope was letting them experiment with prank items in her potions lab, so really, she was the one doing them the favour.

Their eyes met and they struggled to hide their amusement.

Hope examined the four shield-markers with interest once the gold had cooled. They had a bit of weight in her hands now with the gold around the obelisks, but Hope could still see the shape of the herb from where it bulged out under the gold.

It was probably the strongest four-point protective barrier listed in Morea's book, but Hope still had no idea what she was going to be doing with it.

In the end, she simply stuffed the four shield-markers into the picnic basket with the book and her wand (the stone safely hidden beneath her skin once more), grabbing the belt with the sword that she had taken off during the spell-work and securing the belt at her waist once more.

Hope pulled the sword out of its sheath, holding it in one hand with a frown on her lips. Thalia had been serious when she'd explained everything, very serious, and the scar that had lain across her skin.

To step between your sister and certain death…Hope couldn't really imagine; she didn't have a sister, so she couldn't possibly know how that felt. Even worse that no matter what Thalia had done, she had still lost her sister.

"Relying only on magic is a bad idea," Aggie said with a frown as Hope went to retrieve the dagger. "That's how my aunt got killed."

Hope froze, turning the small blade over in her hand. No one ever talked about Aglaia Blackwood, especially not Thalia; Hope got the feeling that she was never going to get over her sister's death.

"I thought she was killed in an explosion," Hope said carefully, a line appearing between her creased eyebrows.

"That's the official report," Aggie agreed with a scowl, taking the dagger and flinging it with a startling accuracy. "Unofficially, someone ran her through with a sword."

Hope's green eyes were reflected in the blade, but when she shifted it slightly she saw eyes as black as coal on a bloodless face, dark cracks spreading across the skin.

She thought her heart stopped, but when she blinked, she found she was just staring at her own reflection and she took in a calming breath, leaning back against the desk.

Hope was seeing things that weren't there. She shook her head trying to clear her thoughts as she returned the sword to its sheath. She wasn't like Thalia or Galen…she didn't think swords and her were a good mix, no matter what the Mirror of Erised had showed.

A staff, sure, after all, great masters of Earth Magick had used them before and Morea had perfectly etched the likeness of her own within the pages of the book, but a sword?

But Aggie's words from so long ago still rang in her ears, and relying on her magic would only get her so far.

Hope blew out a sharp breath before pulling the band out of her long hair in favour of shortening it so that it didn't even touch her shoulders, and then she grabbed up her weighted picnic basket, quickly placing the key to the Tower within after locking the door behind her and beginning the trek back to Potter Manor.

The day had cooled considerably since the morning when Hope had made her way out to the Tower, but it still shouldn't have caused the hair on the back of Hope's neck to stand on end, with a feeling not unlike icy water trickling down her spine.

She really didn't like the feeling as she dropped the picnic basket into the grass and grasped the hilt of the sword as the wind whispered around her, a faint cackle echoing through the air, making Hope twist around violently in apprehension, but it was impossible to tell where it was coming from.

Whatever it was was invisible...like the Keres Thalia had described.

"Orató," she murmured, eyes blazing with a green light as she pulled the sword free, focusing on the form that came into view.

It was terrifying.

It was as if made solidly of black ash with dark rippling hair and eyes pale and completely grey and stretched. Fingers sharpened into deadly claws and teeth jagged and yellow bared from crumbling lips.

"What the hell?" Hope couldn't help but demand.

The creature cackled loudly. "I'm flattered," it said, "but not quite."

It flitted through the air though it had no wings, and a second later Hope found herself thrown against a nearby tree, her head throbbing and her ribs aching as she attempted to right herself.

"What are you?" Hope managed to groan out, blinking furiously to clear her vision.

It almost seemed to smile at that, but it was impossible to tell with a face like that; it could've been a sneer for all Hope knew.

"You mean you've never heard of the Keres, daughter of Thanatos?" the creature goaded and Hope twitched at the assumption that she was Thanatos' daughter as opposed to his several generations removed granddaughter. Unless the creature before her was simply remarking on his blood within her, and she couldn't really discount that.

Hope struggled not to let anything show on her face, but it couldn't have been a coincidence that the day Thanatos and Thalia showed up to warn her about the Gates of Tartarus and monsters from within that one just so happened to find her.

"No," Hope said innocently, lying through her teeth, "must not've been important enough."

The Keres gave a scream of rage and Hope got the feeling it didn't like being considered forgotten or unknown or unimportant, and then it lurched forward, as fast as it had been before, claw outstretched.

Hope, who had finally clamoured to her feet, jerked her head back quickly, but not fast enough to get away unscathed.

One claw sliced vertically through her eyebrow, just missing her eye, a fact that Hope would only be grateful of later, because in that moment the only thing she could feel was an intense burning sensation that gave her the feeling that those claws were poisonous.

A cry of pain burst from Hope's lips and one hand clutched over her eye, skin wet with blood, temporarily blinded by it.

"You'll pay," the Keres hissed, "you and all your blood will pay, with each passing day the Gates weaken and one day they will open and monsters will reign!"

"You're crazy," Hope snapped, her pain making her angry, "you're not strong enough to open the Gates."

She was bluffing, of course, but if Thalia's information was to be believed, and it was, then whoever was chipping away at the Gates couldn't open them by themselves, or they would've already done so.

And this time Hope was almost certain that the Keres was throwing her a superior smirk her way, like she knew something that Hope didn't, and Hope really hated that look.

Then the Keres shot forward and Hope reacted on instinct, thrusting the sword forward and the Keres faded into darkness with a scream that rang in her ears.

Hope's knuckles were tight on the hilt of the sword as she summoned the basket blindly with a hissed spell and vanished before reappearing in the sitting room of Potter Manor, but she'd miscalculated and she collided painfully with the wall with a yell.

"Mistress!"

"What was that?"

Hope could feel Mindy's presence more than see it, more blinded now than she'd been before, pain blooming around her as Remus came out of the study.

"Hope, what happened?"

Hope gritted her teeth together, blood thick and warm against her skin. "Hospital," she managed to get out and it showed how worried Remus was that he didn't question her request, simply helping her stand and holding her elbow tightly as he twisted on the spot.

Thalia should've left her with at least as minimal abilities with the sword as possible, no matter what Hope thought about using a sword, and those thoughts couldn't help but plague had as she strode through Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. It had been startling to receive a mirror-call from Remus telling her that Hope had had a bit of an accident and the look on his face said he wanted an explanation, one that Thalia certainly would be giving him.

Thalia wasn't looking forward to it.

She found door three and gave a polite knock before entering.

Hope had one eye winced shut and was sitting on the one cot in the room while the healer became steadily more flustered with dealing with the angry red cut that Thalia could now see stretching through Hope's eyebrow, down to the edge of her eye, evidently just missing the eye, which was relieving.

"Hiya, Aunt Thalia," Hope said, waving two fingers and Thalia waved back a bit bemused as she looked to Remus where he was standing with his jacket looped over his arms and if Thalia's eyes were to be believed, hiding the sword Thanatos had left Hope with beneath. Yes, that would be rather awkward to explain.

"They gave her a pain potion," the werewolf offered helpfully and Thalia nodded in understanding, seeing the concern in the lines of his face that rippled the scars there. She had a feeling that he considered it one thing for him to end up with scars on his face but it was something else for his ward to experience the same.

"I don't know why it's not healing," the young healer complained. "The poison's out…and the longer its open the more likely it's going to scar."

"Wouldn't be the first time I got my face scarred," Hope seemed rather unperturbed as she made a general gesture to her forehead where the lightning bolt was as clear as day.

"Yes, well," the healer turned pink and Thalia arched an eyebrow towards Remus, it was something else for her to see Hope's fame out in the open, "I'm afraid it's quite likely at this point…but if you don't mind the scar…"

Hope shrugged carelessly.

The healer leaned behind her to grab a few things out of the cabinet there. "Okay, this might sting a little, but I want you to keep your eye closed."

She opened a jar of thick yellow past that had a rather foul smell, layering it over the cut before pasting a bandage carefully over it, securing it to her face.

"Okay, you're going to need to keep that on for about a day, then I want you to come back in tomorrow so I can see if its improved," the healer told Hope seriously and Hope bobbed her head seriously. "Other than needing to sign a few papers, you're free to go, Miss Potter. Why don't you take it easy the rest of the day?"

"Sounds like a plan," Hope agreed with a mocking salute rather clumsily and the healer gave a small laugh before leaving them.

"So what was it?" Thalia inquired as the door shut behind the healer.

"A mouthy Keres," Hope grumbled, but the scowl didn't work out quite as well as it did when she had two eyes in use.

Thalia grimaced. She hadn't been expecting them to find Hope as quickly; her use of Earth Magick worked in her favour, making her smell more like the earth than Thanatos to monsters.

"I want an explanation," Remus said shrewdly, and his tone brooked no argument; he'd make a great professor.

"I'm not entirely sure you'd understand it," Thalia mentioned carefully.

Pale green eyes narrowed further. "Try me," he dared.

Thalia glanced to Hope, unsurprised to see her lips twitching just slightly; like uncle, like niece, she supposed.

"As you're aware, this family has a bloodline with Thanatos, but he's not the only god to have children with mortals, and unfortunately, as I told Hope this morning, there's been a group that actively despises those who have even a drop of godly blood—"

"Hope said what attacked her was a creature," Remus pointed out, "not a group."

"I'm getting to that," Thalia said coolly. "Of the group that began in Ancient Greece, only one now remains, and whoever they are, they have been chipping away at a rather ancient and powerful structure that we know as the Gates of Tartarus."

"The Gates of Tartarus," Remus repeated.

"Greek Hell," Hope informed him, lightly touching at the bandage on her face, "the level worse than the Fields of Punishment."

"Yes, thank you, I might've gathered what it was." Remus rubbed at his forehead tiredly. "Why exactly are these 'Gates' important?"

"Because," Thalia stressed the word, "they hold the monsters not borne from violent acts at bay and the cracks that have been created can allow single monsters to leave every so often."

"Are the Keres borne from violent acts?" Hope inquired suddenly. "I know you said they're spirits of painful death…"

"They are," Thalia agreed, eyes shifting back to her, softening as she looked over the bandage over her eye, "usually from violent murders."

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't understand why she's having to deal with these monsters when I know for a fact her father didn't have the same difficulties."

Thalia's lips drew down into a distinct frown. "The number of monsters was undoubtedly lower when your friend was still alive and he had no idea of his relation to Thanatos, ignorance played in his favour. A harpy could've flown above him and wouldn't have known they were close to a descendant of Thanatos, or maybe Thanatos kept him shrouded, like he did for Hope until today."

"Why stop?" the question parted from Hope's lips before she could stop it.

"Because he's a god," Thalia sighed. "He knows he can't hold your hand forever. You have to start protecting yourself without his aid. That's how it works."

A muscle jumped in Remus' jaw and he muttered something about getting some air.

"I don't think he really gets all the stuff about Greek Myths and everything," Hope confided when he'd gone, her single eye thoughtful. "It's new and complicated and dangerous…he just wants me to be safe."

"What about you?" Thalia came to sit beside Hope on the cot. Hope's legs were swinging underneath. She'd grown a little since December, she was a few inches taller than Aggie, Thalia was certain, but she was so young and small; Thalia could understand Remus wanting to preserve the legacy of his friends. "What d'you think?"

Hope shrugged again. "You know Dumbledore wanting to take me away from Remus? Back to the Dursleys?"

Thalia frowned. Hope didn't talk much about her mother's sister's family, but if Hope had run away from them at ten, she couldn't help but think there was a reason for that.

"He thought I'd be 'safer'." Hope made sarcastic air-quotes with her fingers. "That's kind of the same, right?"

"Kind of," Thalia agreed before her brow furrowed. "Wait, your headmaster wanted to remove you from Remus' charge? Because of his…condition?"That seemed like a bit too much power for a headmaster, even one as well-known as Albus Dumbledore. He shouldn't have had that kind of authority.

Hope made a disparaging grunting sort of sound. "I don't like him," she remarked decisively, "I think he's a manipulative old codger."

Thalia arched an eyebrow in amusement.

"But about the Gates," Hope continued and Thalia's smile fell slightly, "the Keres on my lands…it seemed to think there was a way to open them completely."

That made Thalia pause. "If there is, I've never heard of anything like it, all I know of is a blood sacrifice of Thanatos' kin to shut it."

Hope paled, her eyes wide.

"Which you don't need to worry about," Thalia assured her quickly with hands open and extended. "We'll find the person responsible for trying to force them open and then we'll repair them so no more monsters can get through. Everything will work out, don't you worry."

"Okay." Hope's eyes drifted off slightly, the irises colouring the blue that Thalia saw reflected in the mirror and she smiled faintly. If James and Lily had lived to see the girl their daughter had become, she thought they would've been rather proud.

"Do the Keres' claws have poison?"

"Yes," Thalia said, glancing towards the table where she could see a thick vial of something black stoppered, "but generally it doesn't have much of an affect apart from slowing the healing process, as long as it's removed early on."

"So it'll scar." Hope raised a hand to touch to wound over the bandage.

"Do you mind?" Thalia watched her curiously. "A lot of girls don't like facial scars."

Hope gave her an impressively flat stare with only one eye. "Like I don't have any facial scars." She stabbed a finger at her forehead again and Thalia tweaked her nose with a laugh. "At least it didn't take out my eye…but I think I really hate Keres, Aunt Thalia."

Thalia wound an arm around Hope's shoulders. "I do too."

"Are you all right?"

Remus jumped when he saw Hope sitting in the kitchen with a bag of ice against her eye and drinking tea noisily from her cup. Her cheeks were a bit flushed and she looked a bit tired, but apart from that, and the bandage across her eye, she looked relatively normal.

"What're you doing up?" he asked suddenly without answering her question.

Hope frowned, pointing at her eye. "It was stinging so I asked Mindy to get me a bag of ice."

"Ah," Remus nodded. "She could've gotten you some pain potion, though, it would probably work better, faster too."

"I like this better, it's nice and cool," Hope said simply, taking another long drink as she considered him, watching as he took out some bread and jam. "Remus…you know I love you, right?"

She couldn't see his eyes, but she could see how his back tightened and relaxed. "Of course, I know that, Hope."

"I know you're worried about me," Hope added, "but Aunt Thalia's right, you can't hold my hand forever."

Remus sighed again, taking the bread and jam over to where she was sitting. "Do you know how old I was when I was turned into a werewolf?"

"Five," Hope said without blinking her eye.

"But that didn't stop my parents from trying to keep me safe," Remus informed her seriously. "You may be incredibly self-sufficient and stubborn, but you're still a twelve-year-old child, Hope, and Lily and James wouldn't be pleased if I let you run off into danger."

"I would've thought Dad would be proud," Hope said in a rather off-hand manner and a sharp laugh escaped Remus.

"He would've been, but Lily wouldn't've," Remus said. "I know that I live here as a guest and this is your home and you have your own way of doing things…all I ask is that you be as careful as you can manage."

Hope put down the ice. "Sounds fair," she acquiesced, "but you're not a guest, Remus, you do live here."

Remus smiled softly, cupping her cheek gently and Hope leaned into it. "Do I remind you of them anymore?"