Harry Potter and the Unlikely Gryffindor

Ron Weasley sighed heavily, his chin on his hands as he leaned on the dinner table watching the candle flicker with his breath. Hermione as usual had her nose buried in one of the ridiculously huge tomes that she carried with her at all times. And Harry was pacing in the other room making it sound like they were housing an impatient Centaur.

Mrs. Weasley was looking out the kitchen window for the millionth time mumbling something about the headmistress and her questionable sanity. "Honestly Mum, I don't know what McGonagall expects from us. This is a Malfoy we're talking about here, and all Malfoys are daft in my book." Mrs. Weasley threw a disapproving glance at her youngest son sighing as she looked out the window again. Her attention was caught by a flickering light in the darkness. At first she thought that it was her husband coming home from work. Although as she watched, she realized that there was only one light coming closer.

She groaned inwardly. She had hoped her husband would be home in time to welcome their "guest" into their house. "Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley, " Hermione stated stiffly, "she wouldn't dare try anything. She will be a first year - definitely not on our level." Ron smirked watching as Hermione stuck her nose in the air with her usual sense of superiority. Not that she had not earned that with her O.W.L.s, it was still funny nonetheless.

"Now, now, you two," Mrs. Weasley admonished, shaking her finger at the two of them. "We'll have none of that especially not in my home. She could surprise you, and be affable." Ron snorted at that earning him another disapproving glance from his mother. "All right, up! Let's give her a proper welcome. You too, Harry," Mrs. Weasley called out shaking her head as Harry sulked into the kitchen.

He was at least five inches taller than when he had last been in the Weasleys' home, and was fast catching up to Ron--who was head and shoulders above his mother--and Hermione. Harry's hands were jammed into his baggy jean pockets as he waited behind Ron, whose hair was going the way of his brother Bill's which was tied at the nape of his neck with a leather strap. Hermione, as she did when she was nervous reached up and started playing with a lock of her hair which had grown along with her. It was nearly reaching down to her elbows, and was restrained by an orange scarf before exploding behind her in a bevy of curls. They listened as the deep thrum of the motorcycle ceased at the door. They could hear footsteps as the young woman stepped up to the door, and lightly knocked. Politely knocked, Ron realized as he looked over at Hermione and Harry wondering where in the world a Malfoy had acquired manners.

Mrs. Weasley threw an "I told you so" look at the three young adults in the kitchen and opened the door, smiling brightly as she did so. Ron couldn't help it when his jaw hit the floor. He watched as a young woman, no less than two years older than himself stepped into the kitchen shouldering an army green duffel bag. She wore skintight black leather pants with a black corset over them that came up to her mid-chest. Said garment made her bosom look as though they were about to burst out.

She wore a black peasant shirt that fell off the shoulders, and threatened to fall off of her completely if it was not for the corset making her bosom heave. She wore a crucifix around her neck studded with blood red gems, and her earrings were strange-looking chains that were attached to her ear with multiple piercings that looked like they had been quite painful to acquire. Her face looked as though it was delicately chiseled from pale alabaster her cheeks a pale peach color that made her look somewhat ethereal. Her lips were literally blood red and her eyes were so pale a blue that they looked as though they were glowing. And to top it off the feature that shouted to the world which family she belonged to, her sliver hair cascaded down to nearly the small of her back held out of her face by two clips that looked oddly like coiled serpents hissing over her head.

"Ah Hera, so good to finely meet you," Mrs. Weasley gushed casting a look at the three that asked what they were waiting for. Catching the meaning Ron, Harry, and Hermione simultaneously spit out greetings making it sound as though a choir conductor had had a spasm during a concert.

"Good to be here, Mrs. Weasley. I love ridin' my Harley, but after a while the rear goes numb," she said, patting her generous rump with a finely manicured hand calling the boys' attention that way. Hermione elbowed Ron giving him a killing look that made him flinch. Harry just stayed quiet, preferring to roast in the corner.

Mrs. Weasley thankfully missed the exchange and just chuckled. Assuming her den mother role, she took Hera's duffel bag and handed it to Harry with a pat on his shoulder. "Go put this in the girls' room, dear." Harry sighed, hauling the bag with him as he climbed the stairs. Harry tossed the duffel bag on the bed that had been set up in the twins' room where Ginny and Hermione were bunking as well.

He shuffled into his and Ron's room and sat down on the bed he had been using ever since the Knight Bus had dropped him off in front of the Weasley house less than a month ago. His uncle had wasted no time after his seventeenth birthday in giving him his walking papers, so to speak. They had all but physically deposited him out of the front door.

Harry had to admit that it was liberating not having to go back to that horrid place any more, but a small part of him was terrified. He was on his own now. He was an adult, at least in the Wizarding World and he had to make his own decisions now. He had not realized until that moment standing outside the Dursley's home in the oppressive heat of the July night, that he had relied so heavily on the judgment of others to keep him safe.

He had to change; he had to start making his own decisions. And his first one had not been the smartest, the second was undoubtedly the stupidest. He had decided not to attend his last year at Hogwarts, a decision he had regretted the moment he had informed the new Headmistress McGonagall. She respected his decision. However, she not-so-gently brought up that she had been the one to proclaim in front of Umbridge that she would do everything in her power to see that he became an Auror. And she was not about to let that oath lie unfulfilled.

It reminded him that although he was of age he was not mentally capable of making such life-changing decisions after such an upheaval. And that brought him to his second decision: breaking up his still-new relationship with Ginny Weasley. He had good reason to. He did not want her to get hurt, or worse killed by the people he had vowed to hunt. But she too had humbled him. Who was he to think that she had not the right to stand beside him in this fight? Had she not lost just as much in that battle last April?

The moment he had stepped into King's Cross at the end of term, he had regretted the decision. He was utterly alone when he had met the Dursleys for his last ride to his home of 16 years. No one was there to see him off, not even Ron or Hermione. Aunt Petunia had noticed the hollow look in his eyes but she had squelched any beginnings of sympathy toward her sister's son. Her face had been that hard mask for those three long months until his birthday.

Not even Uncle Vernon had bothered to turn his usual deep purple when a great gray owl swooped through the open kitchen window the moment he had opened the front door. He said nothing as the owl perched on the banister, patiently waiting while Harry had put down his trunk to untie the letter from the owl's leg. Of course his years of living with his uncle had taught him to stuff the note away. "Well? What does it say this time, boy?"

That question had shocked Harry but he took the note out and opened it. His uncle had twitched his mustache as Harry's eyes started to water. "Bad news," he had asked in an almost cheerful tone. His smile had widened as Harry had met him with hard eyes. Harry waited for Dudley to squeeze by his father so Petunia could close the door.

"You would like that, wouldn't you Vernon." Harry didn't care that his uncle was four times his size. He balled up his fists crushing the note in his grip. "Would it matter to you if I said this note was from a man, no a Great Man who has been dead for nearly a week?" Vernon bristled, his cheeks puffing out as he turned his classic shade of angry purple. Petunia, all the while was eying her husband and Harry. She did not dare come between them, the look on Harry's face alone was enough to make her visibly shrink.

"Now see here..." But Harry had had enough of his uncle's lectures.

"No, you listen! You have no idea of the hell I have been through this year! The ONLY man who cared about me is dead." Harry himself was turning a shade similar to his uncle, the muscles in his neck bulging with his rage. "I watched him die! He stunned me, and I couldn't do anything more than watch as he was murdered right in front of my eyes." Dudley by now was watching the screaming match as though it were tennis, his large head rotating to see what would happen next. Petunia was similarly watching though her face had paled somewhat.

Harry had not remembered much of what he had said after that. He came out of his rage what seemed like hours later lying on his bed, his pillow soaked with tears. But whatever he had said must have meant something, because for the rest of the time his relatives had not said more than a handful of words to him. And when he had turned seventeen Petunia herself had ventured into his room to help him pack. Everything that reminded her of magic was sent into Harry's trunk. He could just as easily have casted a Packing charm but the sight of his aunt actually touching his things was a once-in-a-lifetime event not to be missed. Had he the notion at the time he would have sold tickets.

Harry shook his head, reaching under the goose feather pillow to pull out the note he had received that night. It was still crumpled and well worn. He had unfolded it to read it almost every night since he had received it. He had not shared it with anyone else, not even the new headmistress. It was simply too fresh a wound. He would share it with them one day, he thought as he folded the letter back up slipping it back under his pillow. He slid off of the unmade bed and went downstairs to help Molly fix supper.

Nearly half an hour later the entire house was sitting at the table, bowls full of hearty beef stew steaming as Mr. Weasley talked about his uneventful day at the office. "So, Hera you grew up in America," he asked when the table became quiet.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley. I grew up in south Texas for most of my life. My parents told me that I was born not too far from here, though anything beyond that's a mystery to me." She shrugged, not noticing the knowing look Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shared.

"Is it true that everyone in Texas still rides horses?" Ron asked, blushing when Hera responded with laughter.

"Oh, lord. You have no idea how many times I get asked that. In the country, which there is a lot of in Texas some people still ride horses. But I'm sorry to say that the cities are much like yours when it comes to transportation." She smiled as she wiped the side of her mouth with her thumb. "But we do wear jeans and cowboy hats a lot, especially during the trail rides in late February and the county fairs all over the place."

Harry listened, smiling when Ron or the others asked something silly though he occasionally glanced over to a certain redheaded girl who was busy trying not to stare at their dinner guest. Mr. Weasley seemed wholly fascinated as Hera explained the workings of the towns and cities gawking at the sheer number of people that shared the same living area. "Why didn't you answer the first letters that you got from Hogwarts," Harry asked, watching as all eyes went back to Hera who was busy chewing on a rather large piece of beef.

"Well," she started, making sure that she would not talk with her mouth full, "first, my parents never told me about them. They thought they were prank letters from some of the more imaginative kids in the neighborhood. This year they started asking around and sure enough there was another couple living near us that received the same mail, though they were alumni of Salem Institute and it was their daughter that was going. So this year I took my graduation money and decided to come see what all the hubbub was about."

"Hubbub..." Mr. Weasley repeated, taking out a small piece of parchment and scribbling it down with a quill. "And what might that mean," he asked, getting a grin from Hera.

"It means that I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, whether or not it was a good idea." She shrugged, lifting another spoonful of stew into her mouth. "Wonderful stew, by the way Mrs. Weasley. I always begged my mother to put more cabbage in it, now I have all I want." She grinned getting a slight blush from Molly.

Later that night Hera, Hermione, and Ginny were up in the twins old room room helping Hera to unpack though they had stopped at the first few articles of clothing. Ginny had been unwilling to touch anything beyond and was instead sitting on the edge of her bed with her arms folded over her chest. "So how long until the year starts," Hera asked, smiling as Hermione was looking over some of her more unmentionable underwear.

"What? Oh, in two weeks. How in the world do you wear this," Hermione asked holding it up to inspect the piece of clothing. "It looks dreadfully painful."

Hera laughed, turning around and pulling her hair out of the way to let Hermione see the one she had on. "It's like this one, except you wear that one under your clothes, and it pulls a lot tighter. Though I don't wear it often because it becomes hard to eat." She smirked at the incredulous look she got from Ginny. "I have things that would make you blush from head to toe, but you're too young," she said, winking at Hermione, who still turned red as a beet.

"This is all I want to know, thank you very much."

Hera laughed as she undressed. She slipped into a short white nightie that matched her hair, completely transforming her image from dark and mysterious to innocent and flirty.

Hermione had turned a few more shades of red matching Ginny as she tried to look anywhere but at Hera, who was now taking off her jewelry and setting it inside a small bag. "So, what should I expect when I get to Hogwarts? I don't expect there will be many people my age in first year." She watched as Hermione forgot her embarrassment when an open question was asked.

"Well, first we need to get to Diagon Alley to get your supplies. We'll help you since we already know the list by heart. Anyway, after that we get to the train station, and we will show you how to do that too it's a little tricky. The ride is a few hours long, so bring something to occupy yourself with. Then when the first years get there, they're led into the Great Hall and sorted into their respective houses. You'll have to take my word for it that it's something that will stay with you for a while, especially for a person raised in the Muggle World. I know how it feels." Hera listened as Hermione told her everything she was going to expect, though she had a funny feeling that this year was going to be a little more than enlightening.

The next day Hera was awakened at what she swore was the 'butt crack of dawn', a phrase which highly amused her two roommates. "Up and at 'em, sleepyhead." Ginny smiled, laughing as Hera gave her a bleary-eyed dirty look. "Breakfast is almost ready," she said before she skittered out of the room. She stuck her head into Ron and Harry's room, screaming the two out of their beds and onto the floor with a dual thud.

Ten minutes later, Hera came down the stairs still bleary-eyed but awake. The smell of bacon and eggs helped her down as she walked into the kitchen wearing a crimson halter-top pantsuit. Around her neck was a gem-encrusted heart-a-gram hanging from a black chain. Her hair was put up into something that reminded Hermione of Sailor Moon, though instead of round buns on her head, they were pointed like horns. On one hand the effect was a little intimidating and on the other hand, strangely cute.

"You sure don't dress like any Muggle I know," Ron commented, getting a hiss from his mother.

"It's all right, I dress this way to get a rise out of people. That, and any other way of dressing seems so boring to me." She shrugged as she sat down at the table crossing her legs demurely. "In case you couldn't tell, this is me being discreet." She winked at Ron, making his cheeks flush a bright pink. Mr. Weasley was busy studying the heart-pentagram she wore around her neck, stroking his chin with his hand.
"A most interesting piece of jewelry, Hera. I have never seen anything like it."

Hera laughed as Mrs. Weasley set out the platters of fried eggs, sausage, pancakes, toast, and large mugs of coffee. "It comes from a phrase that is used a lot. You ever heard the saying, 'the Devil may care'? This is what it means. It's a graphic way of saying that life isn't supposed to be hard all the time."

After breakfast was finished, everyone gathered at the fireplace, Mrs. Weasley holding a tin of green powder. "This method of travel is called 'Floo'. Watch how Ron does it, love." She held out the tin and let Ron take a handful of the green powder. He stepped into the fireplace. "Diagon Alley," and as soon as he threw the dust he disappeared in a plume of green flames, almost seeming to spin out of existence.

"Cool..." Hera laughed, impressed. "This beats Metro any day."

Harry laughed as he took a handful of the dust and did the same followed by Hermione and Ginny. "You see how it was done? Here, take a handful, love and stand right here." Mrs. Weasley positioned Hera precisely in the fireplace.

Hera took a deep breath. "Diagon Alley," she called out, throwing down the dust as she had seen the others do. Instantly she felt herself spinning into a place she could only describe as 'in between' Here and There. After a few moments of almost nauseating falling, she spun back into existence with the others in the middle of the Potions shop, laying feet first inside the fireplace. She waved her hand in front of her face as Hermione and Ginny helped her up off of the floor. "It would be sweet if it weren't for all the dust."

Shortly afterward Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appeared behind her, brushing soot off of their shoulders. They almost made it look too easy. "Now then...Hera if you will follow us, we'll take you to Gringotts to get you some money for your supplies."

Hera shrugged, running her hands through her hair to get the rest of the soot out. "Sure, but I never opened an account at this Gringotts." The Weasleys gave her a knowing look, making her quirk her eyebrows.

"No, but your parents did, Hera. I'm quite sure there is more than enough to get your supplies." Hera shrugged and followed the two Weasley parents. She became painfully aware of the near deafening silence in the street. She had been told that Diagon Alley had once been a great gathering spot for wizarding kind from all over England. Until Voldemort made his reappearance, that is. Now the streets and shops were so empty it almost made Hera think of the old West ghost towns that were abandoned after the gold rush had ended. Whatever had happened it was obvious that Diagon Alley had seen much better days.

She sighed as they walked into Gringotts, though the almost fun-house architecture gave her pause. The goblins made her gasp, though she tried not to look like a complete idiot while nearly crashing into Molly when she stopped at the back of the lobby. "State yer business," said the goblin on the pedestal in the middle of the hall, looking down at her with beady eyes behind old fashioned, gold-rimmed bifocals.

"Hera Malfoy...I'm here to make a withdrawal," she stated when Mrs. Weasley patted her on the shoulder. She had very nearly used her adoptive name instead. She always knew that she was a Malfoy but had always thought of herself as Hera Artemis Thomas, not Hera Artemis Malfoy. The thought of shadows from her past leaving her any sum of money was a bit uncomfortable. From an early age she had been told that her parents were bad people, murderers even. And as the goblin started checking names on his ledger, she couldn't help but wonder if any of what was stored in her birth parents' account was 'blood money'.

"Key," the goblin grunted out, startling Hera as Molly handed him a large, golden, old-fashioned key. "Right," he grunted again, "Griphook!" Hera squeaked, sounding as though someone had dropped a brick onto a mouse. She watched as another goblin stepped up and took the key from the goblin at the pedestal and waved them into one of the many doorways lining the lower walls. The walls and floors were rough hewn stone, and the sound of water dripping echoed inside the small corridor. Their only light came from torches on brackets on the walls.

Thankfully they stepped into a more open space. The cavern seemed to go on forever ahead of them. It reminded Hera faintly Carlsbad Caverns, but this was something else entirely. The little goblin put his fingers to his lips, and whistled loudly into the cave. A cart responded almost immediately, rushing to where the four were standing. "Watch yer step..." The goblin half-heartedly warned as the four sat down on something that looked like a cart for a mine.

The little goblin didn't bother to warn anyone as the brakes released themselves, and the cart started down the tracks. It was slow at first, but the cart started gaining speed, the vault doors on either side of the track whizzing by with little more than their outline making an impression. The cart went through a bewildering succession of turns, making it impossible to remember if they had turned left or right at the last intersection. Harry was right when he had told Hera that it was impossible to know where you were inside the bank. He also told her what happened to anyone who tried to tamper with the vault doors. The ultimate punishment for greed, she supposed. Though something that flashed fire at them as they sped through that last intersection could certainly be much worse. It almost looked to Hera to be a dragon, but the cart was going at such as speed that she was not sure she had seen anything at all.

Nearly fifteen minutes and several thousand vault doors later, the cart stopped, allowing Hera to catch her breath. She remembered now why she hated roller coasters. The goblin stepped out and beckoned to Mr. Weasley for the lantern. He took the key out that they had given him and another key identical to it. It seemed that this vault door was like the safety deposit boxes in Muggle banks. But that was where the similarities ended. He slipped the two keys into the vault locks, and turned each simultaneously with a satisfying, synchronous double-click. They listened as the tumblers fell into their assigned places, unlocking the large door.

With a great heave, the goblin pulled the door open and stepped inside. He beckoned to Hera as he shined the lantern inside, nearly blinding the four of them. Hera kept her mouth closed, for she knew that if she said what she was about to say, she would never have the Weasleys' respect ever again. Inside the vault were piles upon tons of gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts. "How...how much will I need?" she stuttered; she had never seen such a large sum of gold in one place.

"Well...I would recommend you take out at least three-hundred Galleons. You might see something that you like," Mr. Weasley suggested politically, getting a nod from his wife and the goblin.

"Come, come, young lady. I haven't all day," the goblin chided as gently as his voice would allow. Hera nodded and pulled out the small jewelry bag that Ginny had said she should take with her, and counted out three hundred of the gold coins under the watchful eye of the goblin banker.

Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny had almost completed their shopping when Hera came back, her face paler than usual. Harry smiled knowingly around the packages in his arms. His skin had been that pale too when he had seen the load his parents had left him. Though it could be from the ride in the cart as well. Hagrid had looked even worse his first year.

The rest of the day was a blur to Hera as Hermione took her here, there and everywhere she needed to go. The stop to get her wand however, was interesting. The man who had taken over Ollivander's was confirmed by Harry to be just as creepy as Ollivander himself. He had stood there, tapping his chin with a short finger as he stared at Hera while a rather intrusive measuring tape measured every conceivable thing on her body. Almost on cue, the rather short man reached up and started taking a box down from the shelf. He opened it up, and handed the wand inside to Hera. But just as fast, he jerked it away, tossing it carelessly into a corner. "No, no, no..." He would murmur. "Perhaps the Willow...no, no, no. Too swishy." He jerked another box off of the shelf. "Beech...no, no. Too weak." This went on for a long while, the corner piling up with wands.

He seemed to come to one box, but paused. He turned around to scowl darkly at the Weasley twins outside as they tried to peg Harry again with their Bat-Boagy spray. Then just as suddenly, he was back on form. "Perhaps we have been going in the wrong direction..." He mumbled to himself, slipping the box off the shelf and opening it. He pulled out a wand made of almost pure darkness. The wood was curved, and there seemed to me a small thin vine curling up to the tip. There it did not quite join, making the wand look as though it had two tips. "Ebony...yes, very powerful. Protective as well." He seemed pleased with himself, his smile turning into a sneer. "Well, give it a flick." He snapped, making Hera jump. She shrugged and raised her arm and waved the wand as though she were cracking a whip. A huge stream of silver showered sparkles shot out of the wand, illuminating the shop before winking out of existence.

The shop keeper seemed extremely pleased with this and snatched the wand back, slipping it into the box. "Very nice. Ebony with Phoenix talon, young lady. A very odd paring - dark with light. But then again, you are no ordinary girl either, are you?" He seemed to smile knowingly at his last statement, chuckling softly to himself. "That particular core was recovered from the belly of a Basilisk. Quite odd that it was not destroyed after being touched with such darkness..." He seemed quiet for a few moments longer before remembering himself. "Seventeen Galleons, and twelve Sickles."

From what she had been told about wizard money, this was an awfully steep price to pay. But Hera pulled eighteen galleons out of her pocket and handed it to the man. As soon as she had her change in hand, she grabbed her wand box and sped the other way. She exited the shop just in time to watch Fred be enveloped in his own spray. The tall, lanky young man squealed almost happily as his face was slapped by hundreds of bat wings. George was so pleased with the effect, that he sprayed himself and the two of them walked up and down Diagon Alley trailing screeching bats.

They finely finished for the day, getting everything she needed. Hera had chosen a pitch-black owl with blood red eyes whose hoots sounded more like screeches. She reminded Hera of the screech owls that lived in the forests around her neighborhood back home.

"I think I'll name her Archimedes. To keep with the ancient Greek names." Hermione laughed, petting Archimedes as she swiveled her head around to stare with her crimson eyes. The owl apparently had a talent for knocking over glasses and ink-bottles and just about anything else that could carry liquid. Although after knocking said container over, Archimedes would immediately attack it as though it had fallen on purpose. That would be about when all the other glasses would start toppling over.

"Well, the fun is just beginning. We have a week left before school starts. We probably won't have the same classes, or even be in the same house. But if you need help, don't hesitate to ask."

"Take the help, Hera. Hermione is a life saver," Ron chimed in, Harry nodding vigorously beside him.

"I can think of dozens of times when she pulled my rear out of the roast." Hera laughed at Harry, shaking her head.

"I would be remiss not to take such generous help. I would be completely lost without it, anyway."