Chapter 5
“This is stupid,” Hera groaned, dressed in new clothes and glaring at the wand that stubbornly refused to cooperate.
“Try again,” Snape ordered, voice unforgiving as he glared at her.
She sent a scathing look his way. “Wingardium Leviosa,” the growl slipped from her lips, hand stabbing the wand toward the feather sitting on the table top. It didn’t move. Embarrassment flared through her as the order watched her try—as they watched her try and fail.
“Swish and Flick!” He snapped.
“Oh, fuck off,” she spat.
His eyes flashed with rage. “If you are too much of an imbecile that you cannot so much as levitate a feather that is no one’s fault but your own!”
She stood, discarding the wand somewhere behind her and raising her chin with a glare. “I am not stupid!” She shouted, unaware of the shaking room around her.
“Then do the spell!” He returned, unphased by her yell.
“I am trying!” She yelled. “Maybe if you stopped being a complete arsehole, I would have better luck!”
“Stop with the excuses. You are just like your father, girl!” Her anger grew as fear rose inside of her at the name. She had never wanted to feel afraid like that again, but the name brought back memories of fists, of starvation, of pain.
Her voice lowered into a hiss, “Do not call me girl.” Startled gasps echoed behind her as she spoke and she saw a flicker of fear in Snape’s eyes. She turned, eyes finally seeing the floating objects surrounding her and realizing what she had done. Fear at the thought of a punishment rippled through her body, even if she logically knew they were just like her. “Sorry!” She apologized. Waving her hand to return the objects to their rightful place. She didn’t realize that would only shock them more.
“Merlin,” Ronald breathed, eying her with awe. Her eyes turned to him, shuffling uncomfortably at what she found there. Why was he looking at her like that?
“My dear girl,” Dumbledore began. Hera’s eyes jumped to him and the discomfort grew as his eyes twinkled. “Can you always use your magic like that?”
She paused, studying him. “Usually.” She shrugged. “Comes in handy when you’re starving,” she said lightheartedly, missing the pitying looks sent her way.
His twinkle only grew. “Perhaps you were correct.”
“You cannot possibly mean you think she doesn’t need a wand,” Snape cut in.
“Severus,” Dumbledore scolded softly, gesturing to him to stand down. “Let us simply try.” Hera looked at Theo, raising a questioning brow. He looked back at her, smirking and looking vaguely proud? Hera fought a blush. No one had ever looked at her like that. “Hera, dear girl.” Dumbledore turned back to her. “Sit.” He gestured to the chair pushed back from the table that she was sitting in before.
She eyed him cautiously. “Okay…” She complied. “This better not be a trap.”
He laughed good-naturedly, either ignoring or not picking up on how serious she was. She sat. “Now, I want you to forget about the wand, the incantations. Simply levitate the feather.”
“That’s it?” She asked incredulously.
“That’s it,” he confirmed.
She nodded. “Okay.” Turning back to the feather, she thought one simple thing. Float.
It rose.
Awed gasps rang throughout the room and she lost her focus, turning back to the different sets of eyes tracking her every move. “What?” She snapped.
“Hera,” the dog-man–Sirius–said happily in a barking laugh. “You have no idea how amazing you are, do you?”
Hera’s cheeks heated very fast indeed but she forced herself to scoff. “What are you lot talking about? It’s easy.”
He barked out another laugh. “Easy, she says. Remus, do you see our girl?” He said to the scarred man at his side who was looking at her with pride in his eyes.
“I do, Pads. I do,” he said softly.
She tried to avoid looking too pleased. “Well if you lot are done with your staring, can I be done with this wand nonsense please?”
“I’m afraid not yet,” Dumbledore said patiently. “Wandless magic might work for small spells but I’m afraid it likely will not for the big ones.”
“Bloody great,” she groaned, dropping her head to the table.
“We’ll begin more training tomorrow, taking into account your affinity for wandless magic of course.” He grinned, eyes twinkling brightly. “Now you are all dismis-”
He was cut off with a groan from Snape. “He’s calling.”
Hera jumped up, curiosity shining in her eyes. “Who?”
“None of your business, Potter!” He snapped.
She smirked cruelly. “I bloody think everything is my business if you expect me to kill this Voldemort bloke.”
His eyes flashed dangerously as a hiss passed his lips. “Do not say his name, child!” He turned to Theo. “Come, Theodore. We are needed.”
Hera looked at him, seeing the tenseness of his jaw and the furrow in his brow. Her own brows furrowed, wondering what upset him but before she could ask, Theo left silently, Snape in tow. “What the hell was that about?” She asked, turning to the dog-man and his friend.
“That…” Remus paused. “Is complicated,” he said softly, taking a seat across from her at the marble table.
“Complicated, my arse,” Sirius scoffed. He leaned toward her, lowering his voice to a whisper, “They’re our spies on the inside.”
Her eyes widened. “Like double-agents?” She asked. Dog-man nodded. “Cool.”
He choked. “Snape is anything but cool.”
She smirked, lips quirking sideways. “That, I can agree on.”
“Easy,” Remus softly chided, but Hera could tell he was quietly amused. “He’s on our side.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not a prick,” she snarked and dog-man barked a laugh. She looked at him. He really was like a dog.
“Too right, Hera. Too right,” Sirius agreed happily.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
“Talks of Hera Potter being sighted in Diagon Alley have reached my ears,” The Dark Lord said from his spot at the head of the table. Theo sat a few seats down, not quite the top in his ranks yet. That position was gifted to Lucius Malfoy after his stint in second year that brought the monster back into their lives at the expense of one Ginny Weasley.
“That’s preposterous!” A lower death eater Theo didn’t know the name of shouted at the other end of the room. “Potter’s dead,” he spat.
The Dark Lord tensed, red eyes trailing his form and standing slowly—regally. “Do you question my judgement?” He asked, his voice low.
Finally realizing his mistake, he tensed, looking down. “Of course not, my lord.”
“No?” The Dark Lord circled him. “Well, let’s see to it you don’t make that mistake again.” He leveled his wand at the man. “Crucio!”
The room collectively tensed. All except Bellatrix who cackled madly as the man writhed in pain, tortured screams leaving his lips. How Theo loathed the woman.
Finally, after a long moment of strangled screams, The Dark Lord relented, his wand releasing the spell. “Anyone else?” He asked the room calmly. No one spoke. “Good.” He returned to his seat at the head of the table. “Now, I want any talk—any whisper—of news of the girl brought to me immediately.”
“My lord, if I may…” Marcus Flint spoke.
“Speak,” he commanded.
“I saw her. In the Leaky Cauldron.” Theo forced himself not to tense. “She was alone and she was powerful.”
The Dark Lord sat up straighter. “Explain.”
“She didn’t have a wand. I tried to grab her and she stunned me—wandlessly,” he explained, body tense as if waiting for a negative reaction.
He got it. “She was wandless,” The Dark Lord began, voice low—dangerous. “She was wandless and you let her get away?”
Flint bowed his head. “I’m sorry, my lord.”
“Crucio!” Was shouted for the second time and strangled screams echoed through Theo’s ears.
Being a spy was not for the weak.