Hera wiggled in her itchy dress, not really paying much attention to what her teacher, Mr Little, was saying.

“Hera, can you please pay attention?� Mr Little sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry...� she muttered.

She tried, but regardless of the itchy material the dress was made from, it was difficult to stay still. The straight-backed wooden chair and desk her father had set up in the basement were very uncomfortable.

Mr Little turned back around and continued to write on the small chalk board that was fastened to the wall. After about a minute, he stopped.

“Do you understand, Hera?� he asked.

“Yes,� she lied. She wasn’t in the mood to stay down here any longer, even if it meant a good scolding from him next week.

“Finish page forty-nine tonight. I’ll see you next week.� His briefcase clicked shut and he began walking up the stone steps.

Hera had always been home schooled. Mr Little was in the Ellis’ basement five days a week, teaching her what she needed to know. Over the summer he came over once a week to help her with her maths, which was her worst subject.

She was indifferent to being home schooled. She didn’t really like any of the other children her age, and she preferred her own home to a large classroom. Her father didn’t want her interacting with other children anyway, that’s why he paid Mr Little so much to teach her.

Scooping up her books, she trudged upstairs, eager to get out of her silly, itchy dress. Edward Ellis, her father, was still at work, so the ground floor of the house was empty. She could hear Ava, the house maid, vacuuming upstairs.

“Hi, Ava,� Hera greeted upon reaching the upstairs hall.

Ava nodded and continued her work.

“Do you know when father will be home?� Hera asked.

Ava glanced at her watch. “Soon.�

Seeing that she would get no more information out of the house maid, Hera quickly changed into comfortable clothing and ran back downstairs, collapsing on the living room sofa. She lay down, relaxed for a moment, until a sudden noise made her jump.

Rap, rap, rap.

Looking around wildly for the source of the noise, she slowly got up.

Rap, rap, rap.

When she spotted it, she almost cried out loud with surprise. There was an owl tapping on the window!

An owl? At this time of day? Slowly, because she could think of nothing else to do, she opened the window. The owl flew in, landing on the arm of the sofa.

She stared at it. It hooted loudly. Afraid that Ava would hear it over the noise of the vacuum and make it go away, she took a few steps forward. It was then that she noticed there was something tied on its leg.

The owl stuck out its leg expectantly. Curious, Hera untied it. It was a large, heavy envelope, made of thick, yellow parchment. After being relieved of its burden, the owl flew off through the open window.

Filled with wonder, she looked at the back. There was a purple wax seal with a coat of arms bearing several animals and a large H. On the front her address was written in green ink.

Should she open it? It did have her name on it... Her overwhelming curiosity got the best of her, as it always did, and she slowly opened the envelope.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster Albus Dumbledore

Dear Miss Ellis,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later then the 31st of July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

“What...?� she murmured, completely bewildered.

Hera reread the letter several times, then the long booklist that had come with it.

A History of Magic... This has to be some sort of prank, she thought. But who did she know that owned an owl? She read through it again. It had to be real.

There had been some times when odd things had happened, things that had almost looked like magic. She could swear that she had made her goldfish, the only pet she had ever owned, grow three times its size, in front of her very eyes, just by wishing it was bigger. Or when she had not wanted to go to her Aunt Prudence’s for tea (because she smelt like prunes and kissed her far too much) and her bedroom door locked on its own accord.

Excitement swelled in the pit of her stomach. She was invited to go to a magic school! No more Mr Little and no more stupid, itchy dresses. She could turn all the neighborhood kids that called her stuck up into toads!

The front door swung open and Edward Ellis’ heavy, even footfalls echoed through the house.

“Father?� she called, the letter clutched in her hand.

“Yes, Hera?� His perfectly groomed head appeared in the doorway.

“Look what just came!� she cried with excitement, stuffing the letter into his hands.

As he read it, Edward turned a ghastly shade of white. “You don’t actually believe this rubbish?� he finally said, his voice unnaturally high.

“But it came on an owl!�

He was silent for a long time. “You are not to go.�

“But father!

Edward lowered his voice. “Your mother went to this- school. Look at what happened to her!�

Hera pushed the fact that her mother had been a witch to the back of her mind for later, her anger was too great to deal with that right now. “What did this school have to do with anything? It wasn’t their fault she died...�

“Are you implying it was my fault?� Edward said slowly.

“S-she died because you left her, I know so! If it’s anybody’s fault it’s yours!� Hera cried.

Of course, she knew no such thing, and the little voice in the back of her mind told her that it was a horrible thing to say. Still, she jutted out her jaw defiantly. All she knew, from overhearing her gossiping aunts, was that her father had left her mother and that her mother had died during child birth. But her anger was growing, and she felt the need to blame her father.

“What?� Edward twitched.

Hera clutched the envelope in her hand.

“She lied to me for two years, it was unacceptable,� he said firmly.

“Liar,� Hera whispered. “You left her because she was different, you left her because she was a WITCH! You always want things to be normal and perfect, but she was your wife! My mum! It shouldn’t have mattered!�

Hot tears blurred her vision and anger boiled in her belly. The air cracked with electricity. CRASH! A vase
behind Edward shattered. Edward looked at the broken vase, then at Hera.

“I forbid you to go.�

Hera stormed out of the room, furious, knowing that she would never be able to love her father the same way again.


“Put it on.�

“No!�

“Just put it on, I don’t have time for this!� Ava demanded through the door, obviously too busy to fight with a stubborn sixteen year old girl.

Hera eyed the dress with distaste. It was a blinding white and perfectly hideous.

“It’s ugly,� she said.

“Mrs Ellis bought it especially for you. You’ll break her heart if you don’t wear it!� Ava attempted.

Hera really didn’t care if she broke Mrs Ellis’s heart or not. She could wear the thing is she liked it so much.

But finally, swearing under he breath, she hauled it on. She glanced at herself in the wardrobe mirror.

In her opinion, it looked no better on then it did off. Her ridiculously wild brown curls were pinned back with a clip and the white of the dress made her freckles stand out painfully.

“Stupid hag...� she muttered.

“What was that?� Ava asked, her hearing impeccable.

“Nothing!�

“Now, if you’re done being difficult, your father wants you outside,� Ava called impatiently.

Grabbing a pair of white high heels she grumbled and made her way out into the back garden. Her father was always hosting garden parities for his important clients and such, which meant Hera was forced into some ridiculous dress at least once a month.

Outside, the back garden was brimming with people. Hera sidestepped Miranda and paused for a moment to laugh silently at her son Philip’s attire. Miranda has managed to get him into a sweater vest, which was completely ridiculous, because Philip probably spent most of his time laughing at people his age who liked wearing sweater vests.

Two years ago, Edward Ellis had gotten remarried to Miranda Atkinson, now Ellis. She and her son, Philip, now lived in the Ellis household. Philip basically avoided her, but Miranda was a complete pain. But it seemed like Miranda was the perfect wife for Edward, all fussing over furniture and “Oh, dear, your job sounds so hectic�.

Quickly, she found a plastic lawn chair and sat down in the far corner of the garden, where she was partially obscured by some sort of exotic bush. She watched the party progress with disinterest until Edward Ellis approached her, looking stiff and well-groomed.

“Hera, dear. Why are you sitting behind Miranda’s rhododendron?� he asked.

She shrugged.

“Please, don’t be difficult. Come and join the party, some of Philip’s friends are here,� Edward said hopefully.

She bit her tounge, it was all she could do to keep herself from making a face. “No, I think I’ll go for a bit of a run. I’ve been here long enough, right?�

“I don’t know if it’s safe for you to go out alone, Hera,� Edward said slowly. “Considering all the things that have been happening...�

Hera wondered for a moment if Edward would even be able to comprehend what was actually happening if she explained it to him. Something like it, she knew, had happened many years ago, but this time it was much, much worse. But even so, she could not stay sitting down there any longer.

“I’ll be fine. I’m only going to go up the road!� And without waiting for his reply she smiled and quickly took off through the back gate.

Once out on the road, she took off her shoes and began to run, the few rocks barely hurting the hardened soles of her feet.

She loved running, and as it was moderately dark outside and she knew that she was defying her father, she was enjoying it even more. She loved the feeling of the wind slapping against her face and the adrenalin rush it brought.

A little ways up the road her hair escaped the clip that had been holding it back. Curls sprang out, bouncing as her feet pounded against the pavement. She absently stuffed the clip down the front of her dress for safe keeping, seeing as she didn’t have any pockets. A large patch of woodland appeared at her side, bringing a small smile to her face.

It was called the Old Wood and barely anyone bothered to go in it. Adults regarded it as a normal patch of forest (no different then the one in the neighboring town) and children were scared of it. Apparently, an old witch lived in there, about to roast anyone who set foot in her wood. According to legend, she particularly liked children.

Hera had ventured in there when she was about twelve, hoping that the witch had gone to Hogwarts, the place where she longed to be. She found no one, but she still liked to roam under the tree tops for something to do, secretly hoping to glimpse the fabled witch.

The bottoms of her feet could withstand the dull rocks on the road, but the forest floor was covered with broken sticks and pine cones. She slowly put her heels back on and walked into the wood. She wound her way around the trees, letting the peaceful night sounds calm her.

Taking her time, she slowly made her way to the place she generally came when she was bored, or was looking for a quiet place to read. In the middle of the wood there was a small clearing, complete with a small branch-off of a stream in a wilder part if the wood, and very soft grass.

“What now?�

Hera jumped. She was about to enter the clearing, but there were people already inside! She knew she should turn around and go home, but her curiosity got the better of her and she crept forward.

There were two people standing next to the stream, one of which looked oddly disproportional. They were talking in quiet whispers and Hera had to strain her ears to hear.

“Now, Longbottom! Stay here, I’ve got to find Alewood,� one voice growled.

“Uh- sure thing, Mad-Eye...� the other said.

“Keep your wand at the ready. Just in case,� the first said.

Wand? She crept a bit closer. Hera watched the disproportional shadow disappear into the trees at the
other side. The other man was now alone. She moved a bit closer, so that she was almost in the clearing, to see what he was holding.

As she leaned forward, her hair clip slid out of her dress. She bent down to get it. Snap! A twig snapped under her heel. She flattened herself to the ground not a moment too soon. A jet of red light went whizzing past her head, grazing a tree.

“Magic,� she breathed.

As quick as her dress would let her, she got up. She gave herself a second to look behind her. The man was out of the clearing, looking around. He spotted her, but she was already running.

“Hey- you!� he called.

She kept running, though she couldn’t hear anyone coming after her, she only stopped when she got out onto the road, breathing hard.

He had used magic! She had seen it. Excitement brewed in her stomach. Someone, who was capable of doing magic, had been in her clearing! Ignoring the stitch in her side and the rip in her dress, she began jogging down the road. She needed to see Greta.

The rain pounded the bus window, driving away the summer sun. Hera tried not to breathe in the musty smell of the old man sitting next to her while she gazed out the window at passing cars. She was thinking about what she always thought about on the bus to Greta’s. Her mother. Greta and Larissa had been sisters.

Whenever Hera came across one of Miranda’s friends, they would give her pitying, sympathetic glances. “Not a motherly influence in her life before Miranda came along. Poor dear,� they would whisper. But Miranda was nothing like a mother to her, and nothing at all like she thought a mother should be. And what Miranda’s friends didn’t know was that she had managed to stumble upon a motherly influence.

It had taken her quite a while to figure out Greta even existed. After Edward forbade her to go to Hogwarts, he watched her closely for almost a year. When he was satisfied in his assumption that she had gotten over it, he stopped and she began researching, snooping around, to find anything about her mother’s side of the family. One day when she was about fourteen and she was home alone, she picked the lock and went into her father’s room.

After scouring the room for any trace, she was about to leave, when her foot came down onto a loose floorboard. Since Edward was quite the perfectionist, there had to be a specific reason for the loose board. Maybe a secret hiding place? Under the floorboard there were dozens of letters, most of which were sent by people with the last names Greengrass (her mother’s maiden name) and Cauldwell. She had managed to contact Greta Cauldwell, and had been in correspondence with her ever since.

The bus rolled to a stop and Hera hurriedly got off, eager to get away from the smelly old man. Grateful that she had thought to bring an umbrella, she opened it and set off down the road. Cars sped past, driving through puddles and splashing her mercilessly. Soon she was thoroughly soaked from the waist down, her trainers squelching when she walked. Hera continued along the road for several minutes, before turning off onto a beaten down path on the edge of a large field.

The walk along the path to Greta’s took about twenty minutes. It mostly passed through fields, but occasionally there was a bit of forest or some rocks. But finally, a house appeared in the distance and she broke into a jog, careful not to slip on the wet grass.

The house looked like it had once been comfortable and homely, but now it looked terribly forlorn. It needed a new coat of paint, and the back garden was overgrown. How beautiful it would be if the Wizarding World wasn’t at war...

The front door of the house flew open and a woman appeared on the front step. “Hurry on, love! You’ll catch a cold! And I shouldn’t like to keep this door open too long!� she called.

Hera closed her umbrella and stepped into the warm porch. “Lo, Greta,� she grunted, hauling off her trainers. Her socks began making small puddles on the floor.

The first time she had met Greta, she had received a lecture on using the term ‘aunt’. Greta insisted there were no formalities for family.

“Evening, love. Had a safe trip?� Greta asked, as she always did.

“I took a bus, Greta. Do you think You-Know-Who’s going to blast a bus right off the street?�

“It’s been done before,� she replied sternly. “Now, into the house with you!�

She pulled off her socks and Greta dried her wet jeans with a flick of her wand. Then, she was wrapped tightly in a blanket and sat at the kitchen table. She watched as Greta proceeded to make tea.

Greta seemed older every time Hera saw her. Her once full head of brown hair was streaked with grey. Deep lines of stress were carved into her face and her eyes had lost their lively spark. She was short and crumpled-looking, but she had once been the beauty of the Greengrass family.

“Now, let’s hear the reason you came over,� Greta said with a small smile, placing two mugs of tea on the table.

Hera took a mouthful of her scalding tea and began. “Well, father was having another one of his garden parties. I had to wear a stupid dress, so I sat behind a bush. Anyway, I ended up running over to the Old Wood-�

Greta cut her off. “You what? You went out in the woods -alone? You could have been killed!�

Hera wiggled in her blanket uncomfortably. She knew Greta would not be pleased. “Yes, Greta. It was a stupid thing to do. I know, I’m an idiot,� she said wearily, getting ready for the next outburst that was sure to come. “Anyway, I was just walking around,� she left out the part about how she was headed for the clearing that she visited almost daily, “and I heard voices up in the clearing ahead.

“So, I went to check it out. There were two men, I think. All I can remember is them saying something about an eye and somebody’s bottom... Oh! And one said ‘Keep your wand at the ready!’ or something like that, before he left the other one alone.� She paused and picked at the colorful quilt. “He said wand, Greta! I just had to go and check it out!�

Greta rubbed her eyes. “Oh, Hera. You didn’t!�

“The only reason I got caught was those stupid shoes! A stick broke and the man shot a spell - I think he tried to stun me - but I dodged it. I got up and ran. I didn’t hear them follow.�

“Did you hear any pops or cracks?� Greta asked quickly.

“I didn’t hear any Apparition sounds,� Hera said, almost smiling at the extent of her magical knowledge.

“Your curiosity will be the death of you!� Greta scolded. “They could have been Dark Wizards! They probably were!�

“You know that I can’t help myself,� Hera muttered, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“I just wish you wouldn’t be so careless. People are dying, Hera.� Greta was about to launch into one of her lectures.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I need to think before I act and stop being so reckless,� she interjected quickly, before gulping down her tea. It was what Greta always told her.

Greta smiled and patted her hand again. “As foolish as you’ve been, and you have been incredibly foolish, I have a surprise for you.�

Excitement began to boil in the pit of her stomach at the look on Greta’s face. “Greta...?�

“I’ve booked us a meeting with someone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This may be your chance, love.�

“Greta...� Hera began awkwardly.

Greta gave her hand a squeeze. “I know, love. I know.�





Hera watched Mr. Mump, vice-head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, waggle his bushy eyebrows importantly.

“She will need an appropriate tutor,� he said, and his eyebrows moved up and down.

“I will teach her some simple spells until she finds a tutor,� Greta assured him.

“And she will have to keep her magic in check, as is appropriate for all children under seventeen and over fourteen. With the new Underage Wizardry law, she can do magic, but she must keep it in check.�

Waggle, waggle.

“Of course.�

“Then I see no problem in it,� Mr Mump stamped a paper. “Hera Ellis, you are now a fully certified witch.�

Hera’s stomach gave an excited jolt.

“Thank you, sir,� Greta said in a very business-like tone, taking the paper.

“I would go to Ollivander’s for her wand. The boy’s not as good as his uncle, but he’s better then the others.� Mr Mump waggled his brows once more.

“Thank you, Mr Mump,� Hera mumbled.

Hera and Greta were silent until they got into the lift.

“When can I get my wand?� she asked once the doors shut, not able to conceal her excitement as she watched the ministry paper airplanes whiz around overhead.

“Right now, if you like.� Greta smiled at her warmly.

“Right now?�

Greta nodded.

Hera tucked her hair behind her ears, awkwardly. “Thanks, Greta…�

“Not a problem, love.� Greta’s face looked old and worn, more so then usual. “Not a problem.�





Hera took a deep breath of air. She didn’t like side-along Apparition at all. Behind her was a cracked brick wall, before her a long, cobblestone street. Greta had explained that since the Dark Lord had returned, Diagon Alley had turned into a rather shady place, and it was best to just buy your things and get out of there.

“A while ago,� Hera said, sadly observing the boarded up windows, “you said something about a place called The Leaky Cauldron. Where is it?�

Greta sighed and drew her cloak closer around her. “It was behind you. About a year ago, Tom, the owner, was tried and convicted for killing some Muggles, though he said he was under the Imperious Curse, and was sent to Azkaban.� They both glanced at the cracked wall behind them. “But come. We mustn’t dawdle.�

They began walking quickly down the road and Hera firmly wrapped the cloak Greta had given her around her body. She felt oddly signaled out in her blue jeans and t-shirt, when everyone around her was wearing robes. As they passed another alleyway, an old, toothless wizard shook a clove of garlic at her.

“Watch out for the Vampires, my sweet,� he snarled. “You never know when they might pop up!�

Hera started and gaped at the man. Greta quickly steered her by the elbow up the road. They stopped outside a shabby building. “Quickly, now. Inside,� Greta said, pushing her through the door.

Once inside, Hera’s heart nearly leapt up her throat. The walls were stacked with boxes and boxes of wands, there was a spindly stool in the corner and a small counter in the back.

“Who’s there?� a sharp voice demanded.

“Mr Ollivander!� Greta called. “We are here to purchase a wand!�

“State your name.�

“Cauldwell.�

A man emerged from behind a stack of large boxes. He looked to be in his mid-thirties. His hay-like hair was pulled back into a ponytail and eyes of scrutiny peered out sharply from behind wire-rimmed glasses.

“Greta Cauldwell? Yes, my father knew your husband.� He sat upon the counter. “And who is this?�

“This is my niece, Hera.� Greta laid a hand on Hera’s shoulder.

“Has she broken her wand?� he asked.

“This is her first wand.� She handed the paper him the paper stamped by Mr Mump.

Ollivander wrapped his finger around the end of his ponytail as he read. “I see... interesting. Well, let’s find her a wand! I use the same materials as my uncle did; phoenix feather, dragon heartstring, and unicorn hair.�

While looking at boxes, he kept shooting her suspicious looks. Hera stared back defiantly, as if daring him to ask her why a seventeen year old was only now getting a wand. He selected a thin box from the pile he had been hiding behind. “Phoenix feather, 8 inches, ivy. Just give it a little flick.�

Hera held the wand for a moment, it felt like her stomach was about to burst, she was so excited. She flicked it. Nothing happened. Her stomach twisted into a tighter knot. Why hadn’t anything happened?

“Don’t worry. I’ve never been able to get it right on the first try. The wand chooses the wizard, or witch, in your case, you know.� He handed her another.

After three more failed wands, he handed her another. “Blackthorn, only started using this wood about a month ago, 12 inches. Dragon heartstring.�

When she waved it, a faint tingling began in her finger tips and made its way up her arm. Large, purple bubbles began issuing from the top of it and proceeded to float around the room.

“Ah, there you have it then! Looks like a good Charms wand.� Ollivander put her new wand back into the box and passed it to her. “That will be seven Galleons, Mrs Cauldwell.�

While Greta paid, Hera tried to pop one of the bubbles with her finger, but it just bounced off and continued to float. “Thank you,� she said, a magical glint in her eyes.

“You’re welcome. And I wish you the best of luck with that.�

Once back on the depressing street, Hera couldn’t conceal her smile any longer. Finally, she belonged. She finally had a wand, and she couldn’t wait to use it.

Hera yawned and stretched out on the soft grass, relishing the feeling of the warm sun and the blades of grass between her toes. Even as she lay there, perfectly comfortable, with her new wand by her side and the intoxicating feeling of accomplishment running through her, she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Greta would be extremely upset if she knew Hera had come back here alone.

Shaking away her guilt she picked up her wand (12 inches, Blackthorn, Dragon heartstring, she said to herself with a smile) and looked down at the book in front of her. She had been trying to master this spell for two days, having already taking several to learn ‘Lumos’. Yesterday, she had managed to shakily float a pencil for a couple of seconds.

Spotting a nearby stick she directed her wand at it. Swish and Flick. “Wingardium Leviosa!�

Hera watched in delight as the stick rose into the air and hovered there. Directing it with her wand, it flew over to the stream and dropped into it.

Again, the uplifting feeling of accomplishment overtook her and she began floating larger branches and small rocks, sending them in an unsteady wobble around the clearing. She was so emerged in her spells that she didn’t hear the rustling of leaves, nor the footsteps as someone entered the clearing.

“Hello?�

Her concentration broke and the pile of stones that had been zooming around the clearing fell to the ground. She stuffed her wand in her back pocket and scrambled up.

A young man - he looked not much older then her - stood there, a friendly smile on his round, rather boyish face. He looked fairly familiar. Hera glanced nervously at him. She quickly stuffed her books into her bag and turned to flee.

“Hey - wait!� he called.

She stopped. His voice sounded very familiar.

“Sure thing, Mad-Eye...�

He certainly didn’t look like a Dark wizard... And he was wearing Muggle clothing. Greta was right, her curiosity would be the death of her.

“What?�

“I’m not going to hurt you or anything,� he said, holding up his hands. She could see his wand, which he had stuck in his pants pocket.

“You surely didn’t hesitate the other night...� she muttered to herself.

Color rose in his cheeks, a similar thing happened in Hera’s. She didn’t think he had heard. “I -you... Of course I tried to stun you! You could have been a… Death Eater or something!�

“How do I know you’re not a... Death Eater?� Hera was not entirely sure what a Death Eater was, but she assumed it was nothing good.

Feeling uneasy, she slipped her wand from her pocket. What am I going to do? she thought to herself, Make him float?

“You can’t really do much with that, can you?� he asked. His tone wasn’t smug, but very sincere.

“What - that was… How - Who are you anyway?� she demanded hotly.

“Neville,� he said flatly.

“Well, Neville. I... you… Damnit!� she swore at her flustered incoherency and went to leave.

“No - wait!� Neville called.

“What?� she snapped, turning back around to face him.

“Here.� He handed her the hair clip she had lost in the woods. “You must have lost this the other night.�

Not knowing how to possibly respond to that, and feeling much too annoyed to say anything anyway, she took the clip, stuffed her wand in her bag and quickly left.

*


Hera shouldered her bag and slipped on her shoes. Since she could not possibly practice any magic inside the house, she was off to the Old Wood again. She reached for the front door knob but jumped at the sound of the soft voice behind her.

“Hera?�

Philip stood on the staircase looking down at her.

“Oh. Hi, Phil,� Hera greeted.

“Where are you going?� he asked.

Hera looked at him curiously. He barely ever confronted her in any way. “Just out for a bit...�

“Are you going into those woods again?�

“Did my father put you up to this?� she demanded, hands on hips, in hopes of scaring him off.

“No... I just think that it isn’t safe for you to go out alone, especially to an abandoned wood,� he said. “They’re a couple of kids missing in Devonshire.�

She shrugged. “I’ll be fine, it’s not like anyone goes there or anything.� This, of course, was not true, as she had just had a run-in with two Wizards, but lying to Philip was easy. “Since when do you care, anyway?�

“I don’t think your father would want you to,� Philip cautioned.

“Well... What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Right?� She looked expectantly at her step-brother.

He hesitated. “Right...�

“Thanks,� she said, before quickly slipping out the front door.


*


It was very strange for Philip to ask her so many questions, and tell her she shouldn’t be going places when he usually went out of his way to avoid her. But she pushed the incident out of her head at the prospect of exploring.

The wood was exceptionally beautiful today, after a full day of rain, and suddenly Hera did not want to go to the clearing, but to wander through the trees, perhaps to find where Neville and his disproportional friend went when they came to the Wood. She was in a strangely adventurous mood.

It was quite humid underneath the canopy of trees and Hera’s hair, being as curly as it was, increased in both size and curls, nearly suffocating her. Feeling rather claustrophobic in her net of hair, she wrapped her hair into a bun and shoved her wand through it to keep it out of her face. Had Greta been there, she would have scolded Hera for developing such a dangerous habit. She could have accidentally singed her hair off, or, god forbid, draw some kind of attention to herself! But, as she was not, Hera smiled while her wand kept her hair piled at the back of her head.

She had not yet told Greta of her second encounter with Neville, in fear that her aunt would not allow her to come to the Wood anymore, which was the only safe place around to practice her magic.

Hera absently wove her way through the trees, thinking of all the spells she would learn eventually. So many hexes and charms- Mr Ollivander had said she had a good Charms wand. She was broken out of her musings by the sight of a large oak tree with a small stream dancing around its protruding roots. Never had she seen this tree before, she certainly would remember an oak tree that size, and she had been all around the Wood. Confused, she gazed around at the trees and stream. She had definitely never been here before.

The grass around the tree was soft and devoid of any sharp objects, so Hera removed her sandals, sighing contentedly at the feeling of dew upon her toes. She walked once around the tree. The stream was crystal clear and she was tempted to drink from it. But Greta’s words of warning flashed across her mind and she straightened up.

Where does that stream go? There was a nagging voice in the back of her head telling her she should turn right around and report to Greta, but curiosity, like a large snake, wrapped around her body and began squeezing it, until she could stand it no longer. What was so strange about a big tree? Really nothing to worry Greta about... Quickly, she picked up her sandals and followed the stream through the trees.

Hera followed the stream for sometime as it wound its way across the forest floor. Suddenly, the stream changed direction sharply. But where the stream turned sharply to the left, a lightly beaten path jutted out before her.

She peered down the path. There seemed to be an opening up ahead. Abandoning the stream, she swiftly began down the path. At last, she emerged into a large clearing and sucked in her breath in surprise.

A small log cabin stood in the middle of the clearing. There was a well off to the side and a large flower garden in the front. It looked like something out of a story book.

“Hello there!�

Hera quickly pulled her wand from her hair (a big, brown mass fell into her face) and looked around wildly.

A short, stout witch, Hera knew she was a witch from the pointed hat she wore, smiled at her from behind a sunflower in the flower bed. There was dirt all over her grey robes.

Hera remained silent with shock as the witch walked towards her. “Hello,� she repeated.

“I - I didn’t know anyone lived here,� Hera stuttered. “Sorry.�

“Well, of course you didn’t. Barely anyone does,� said the witch.

Up close, Hera could see that she was a rather old woman, her wrinkles prominent around her eyes. Silvery hair, streaked with red poked out of the brim of her hat. She had a straight nose and a large, happy mouth, to which she had applied a rather garish shade of lipstick to.

“Oh, look at me. Covered in dirt and a little thing like you frightened to death!� The witch chuckled. She looked down at her dirty robes and flicked her wand. The dirt disappeared. “I was just working in the garden, the sunflowers are exceptionally tall this year, taller than myself, might I add. The secret is in the Dragon manure, is what I always say, though no one ever seems to believe me. Romanian Longhorn, I get mine specially shipped in from my friend who works in the Dragon reserve there. Oh, I’m getting off-topic, you must think I’m exceptionally rude.�

Hera gaped at her.

“Poor dear, I’m not going to hurt you. No, no. I’m Alda Belby, and this-� she gestured around her, “-is my wood.�

“Your wood?� Hera asked, realising that Alda Belby was the rumored witch.

“Yes, yes. It’s been in my family for ages . There are quite a few fables about me. But, not to worry, I don’t cook children.� She paused. “They taste much better pickled.� Alda Belby gave a hearty chuckle and straightened her hat.

“Oh,� was all Hera could say.

“You’re probably wondering why you’ve never been here before?�

Hera nodded.

“I’ve set up spells all around my house, of course. The only time anyone can enter is when I take off the charm. The only place you can Apparate is in that lovely clearing in the center, which I’m sure that you’re familiar with,� Alda said, smiling.

Hera’s anger swelled. Was there a whole party of people spying on her while she was practicing magic?

“I’ve always kept watch on that clearing, since it is the only place that Apparating is possible. Don’t worry, Hera, I’ve never intentionally spied on you, though I must say; your magic is improving wonderfully!�

“What? How do you know my name?� Hera sputtered.

“I know your aunt, of course!� Alda cried, taking off her large hat and fanning herself with it.

“You know Greta?� Hera asked in disbelief. She was starting to wonder if everyone in England knew Greta some way or another.

“I’ve known Greta Cauldwell since she was a child,� Alda said. “But now, Hera, if you don’t mind, I really need to repot some Mandrakes in the back. They threw quite a party last night and some of them have broken out of their pots! Though if you could come back Thursday it would be lovely! I’ll teach you some potion making. I’ll owl Greta tonight and tell her!�

Hera was rather confused at the constant stream of words coming from Alda. “Uh....okay...� she finally said, from lack of anything else.

“Have a safe walk home, dear. Keep your wand at the ready!� Alda advised merrily.

She would have loved to stay and bombard Alda Belby with questions, but she was already skipping back to her flowerbeds. So, not exactly sure of what had just happened, Hera turned around and began back down the path, with many mixed feelings about the witch she just met, but excitement brewing in her none the less.

“...and then, Harrison forgot to give me the papers!�

“Oh dear!� Miranda gasped.

“It was a complete mess. But I managed to get it straightened out eventually,� Edward said after a sip of coffee, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

In was a Thursday morning breakfast in the Ellis household and all the house’s occupants were seated around the breakfast table.

“Well,� Hera announced, setting down her fork. “I’m done.�

Miranda looked at her plate disapprovingly. “But Hera, dear. You’ve barely touched your omelet!�

Miranda had persuaded Philip to make breakfast for them (although Hera was baffled at the reason why) and the results lay on her untouched plate. She fought back the urge to say something like, “I haven’t touched it because it tastes like tar!� and instead settled for, “I’m not really hungry.�

“Don’t forget, Hera. You have your maths lesson with Mr Little tomorrow,� Edward reminded her.

“Okay. I’m gonna go outside for a bit.� She stood up and left the dining room.

Philip looked at her in a cautious way over his orange juice.

“Be careful!� Edward called after her from behind his newspaper.

She flew up to her room, snatched up her bag full of spellbooks from its hiding place in her wardrobe and left the house, only stopping on her way towards the Wood to buy a very large chocolate bar at a corner store.

When she reached the edge of the wood, Hera set off at a run, very anxious to learn what Alda had to teach her about potion making. She had never been so eager for knowledge in her entire life. And what was more, she finally felt as if she had found somewhere that she really belonged- now that she had a wand. Most of the people her age thought she was rather stuck up and being home schooled had always hindered her making friends. But none of that mattered now.

She found Alda’s house with ease, as if she had been there a hundred times before, and gladly jogged up and knocked on the wooden door.

“Hello there, Hera!�

Hera nearly jumped out of her sandals for fright. Alda was standing by the side of the house, holding a kettle.

“God- oh! I didn’t see you there, Mrs Belby,� Hera said, blushing a bit.

“Now, none of this Mrs Belby nonsense, you’ll make me feel old. Call me Alda!� Alda said happily.

“Um... Okay- Alda,� Hera replied awkwardly.

“I believe I promised you a Potions lesson, yes?� Alda opened the door and motioned her inside.

Hera did not know what she expected to find inside Alda Belby’s house, but it certainly was not this. To fill out the role of the fairy tale witch living in a small patch of forest, Hera had thought that her house would be a little more exciting. Perhaps smoldering cauldrons, black cats and crystal balls, although she now knew that not all witches were like that (Greta had not touched a crystal ball in her life). Still she found herself mildly disappointed at the plants lining the windows and the patchwork quilt draped over the sofa.

And then, to her great surprise, a little beige ball of fuzz hopped up onto Alda’s shoulder. She gave a little yelp of surprise as a long, thin tongue poked out of it.

“You’ve got a – um - What’s that on your shoulder?� Hera asked, staring wide-eyed as Alda petted the ball of fuzz.

“Oh, poor dear. Of course you wouldn’t know! This is my Puffskein, Martha.� Alda held Martha out in her hand for Hera to see.

She touched it tentatively. It licked her finger. Hera smiled “A wizarding pet?� she asked.

“Yes, and I barely have to clean anything up, she eats all my scraps.� Alda beamed at the Puffskein before setting her down. “Now, let’s get to work, shall we?�

“What potion are you going to teach me?� Hera asked eagerly.

Alda smiled. “You’re a smart girl, or so Greta tells me. So instead of basic first year potions, let’s do something a bit more difficult.�



An hour later her Pepperup Potion was sitting on the fire. Blasts of steam issued from the cauldron at regular intervals. Hera had quite liked slicing up roots and measuring shiny liquids for the potion, although more then once Alda had had to pull Hera’s face away from a jet of steam.

Hera blew into her mug and then gulped down her tea. Alda was sitting in a rocking chair next to her, and was fiddling around with a wooden wireless.

“How old are you, Hera?� Alda asked absently, tapping the wireless with her wand.

“Seventeen,� Hera answered as music began playing. “My birthday was two weeks ago.�

“That was Celestina Warbeck with Transfigure My Heart. Next on the WWN…�

“Well, you’re of age then!� Alda said, surprised.

“But I’m only seventeen,� Hera told her. A band called Gary and the Ghouls were moaning loudly on the wireless.

The older woman waved away her response. “Seventeen is the legal age for the wizarding world! Have you thought about what you’re going to do?�

“Do?�

“Your future!� Alda laughed.

Hera’s eyebrows knitted together. She had never really thought of her future in the wizarding world before, all her concentration was spent of simply learning magic.

“I-I don’t know,� she admitted. “My father always wanted me to go to the same university that he did when I’m finished with my home schooling. But there’s no way I’m doing that.�

Alda gave her a kind smile. “It’s alright if you don’t know yet. You have much more magic to learn.� She looked over at the cauldron full of bubbling potion. “Another ten minutes simmering and it’ll be done. Your first official potion!�

Hera smiled. “Thanks for showing me, Alda.�

“Not a problem.� Then, Alda sat up in her chair abruptly, “Oh dear.�

Hera turned around to find herself face to face with what looked like a pearly white reindeer. For the second time today she gave a yelp of surprise and backed up in her seat. Now, from further away, she could it that it was a transparent stag. A kind of spell, maybe.

“What is that?� she asked.

Alda was already up and clasping a cloak around her neck. “No time to explain now. You’re going to have to run along home. Go quickly and stay inside your house.�

“What? But-�

She pushed her to the door. “I need to go handle something,� Alda said sternly.

And since her face had such a strange and fierce look on it Hera asked no more questions and ran all the way home.




The next morning Hera stumbled down the stairs. Her hair was in a jumble, her eyes were half closed and she was sure there was an imprint of a book cover on the side of her face. She had stayed up late practicing magic last night in the safety of her covers and had fallen asleep while doing it. She had not gotten much sleep and intended to go back to bed after eating breakfast.

As usual Philip, Miranda and Edward were seated around the table, but something was different. Everyone was staring at a newspaper spread across the table.

“Wuzzgoinon?� Hera mumbled sleepily, pressing the heel of her hand into her eye to clear her vision.

“More attacks,� Miranda said faintly.

She was instantly awake. She, of course, knew the cause of the attacks from the picture the newspaper provided. What used to be a street of houses lay in ashy ruins, and grotesque skull with a snake winding from its mouth was hanging over it.

Hera snatched up the newspaper.

It seems as if the residents of Greenfield Avenue had been already murdered before their houses were set ablaze.

There are still no leads as to who has been responsible for these strings of attacks but police officials tell us...

Greenfield Avenue... That was near Greta’s house! Hera pushed the newspaper into Phil’s hands and then sped upstairs for a change of clothing and money for a bus.