HP: Fragments Of A Legacy

When November arrived, the cold settled firmly over Hogwarts. The surrounding mountains were covered in a frosty sheen that reflected shades of gray, and the lake resembled a sheet of frozen steel. Each morning, the grounds woke under a blanket of frost, and from the highest towers of the castle, Hagrid could be seen preparing the Quidditch pitch. Wrapped in his characteristic mole-skin coat, rabbit-fur gloves, and beaver-hide boots, the groundskeeper meticulously thawed the brooms, ensuring everything was ready for the start of the season.

The first match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, had stirred palpable excitement throughout the castle. For Slytherin supporters, maintaining their lead in the house championship was critical, while Gryffindor saw this as their chance to climb the ranks. The tension was tangible, and debates in the Great Hall grew increasingly heated as the day approached.

For Helena, the match carried a personal significance. It would be the first time she'd see Harry play as Seeker in an official game. Although Oliver Wood had tried to keep Harry's training sessions under wraps, referring to him as his "secret weapon," rumors about the new player had quickly spread throughout the school.

This revelation hadn't gone unnoticed among the Slytherins, particularly the more conservative faction, whose sarcastic and snide remarks toward Helena became more frequent. However, their provocations didn't faze her much. Flint, Slytherin's captain, seemed particularly interested in striking up conversations with her, likely fishing for information. Thankfully, Lucian's influence acted as a shield. Flint never managed to get close enough, and even if he had, Helena wouldn't have had anything meaningful to tell him.

Helena's connection with Lucian and Cassandra had become evident to everyone in the house. Their closeness provided her not only with subtle support but also deterred most students with ill intentions. The trio had become nearly inseparable, sharing time in classes, corridors, and even meals.

In a gesture of friendship, Helena had decided to craft friendship bracelets for the three of them. Though Cassandra raised a skeptical eyebrow at the idea, she accepted the gift. Lucian, for his part, simply smiled with his usual calm and wore the bracelet without any sign of discomfort. For Helena, it was a way of expressing how special she considered their bond, even if her friends saw it as a childish peculiarity.

On the morning of the match, the three of them were in the library, searching the shelves for books to complete their Potions assignments. It was a moment of relative calm before the day's bustle, though finding the necessary materials had proven more challenging than expected—partly due to Professor Snape's foul mood, a topic that had become the main subject of conversation among some older students.

Rumor had it that Snape's bad temper stemmed from an unfortunate accident during a third-year Hufflepuff class. A student had tripped and, in their clumsiness, stepped on Snape's foot. The professor, known for his sharp temper, had been on the verge of shouting at the boy, who ended up in tears after a severe scolding.

Unfortunately for the first-years, their lesson had been scheduled immediately afterward. It was clear Snape had taken out his accumulated frustration on them, making that particular class an especially grueling experience. The hallways buzzed with whispers and complaints about his severity.

In the library, Cassandra flipped through a book with an air of disinterest, occasionally casting distracted glances at the shelves. Helena, in contrast, was deeply engrossed in the pages of a hefty tome she'd found, scribbling notes with meticulous concentration.

Lucian had momentarily abandoned the task, wandering off among the shelves in search of something more entertaining than their assignments.

Helena looked up from her book at the sound of approaching footsteps. Her first thought was that it must be Lucian, returning with yet another of those tomes he always seemed to find more engaging than their schoolwork. A smile spread across her face as she turned toward the sound.

"Lucian, look at this! I found something that might help us with—" Her voice trailed off as she realized who was standing before her.

It wasn't Lucian. It was Harry, her brother, his expression serious and slightly grim.

"Harry," Helena said, setting her book aside and standing up at once. "What a surprise! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting ready for the match?"

Harry didn't reply immediately. His gaze shifted from Cassandra to Helena and back again, as though weighing whether or not to speak.

"What's wrong?" Helena pressed, her tone now tinged with concern as she noticed his hesitation.

Before Harry could say a word, Cassandra snapped the book she'd been flipping shut and returned it to a nearby shelf. Though her demeanor seemed casual, it was clear she'd picked up on the shift in atmosphere.

"I'd better go find Lucian," she said calmly, avoiding direct eye contact with the siblings. With a slight nod of farewell, she disappeared among the shelves, leaving them alone.

Helena turned her full attention to Harry, studying him closely.

"Is everything okay, Harry?" she asked softly, trying to make him feel comfortable enough to talk.

Harry hesitated for a moment, as though carefully choosing his words. Finally, he leaned in slightly and spoke in a hushed voice.

"Snape's up to something," Harry whispered urgently, before Helena could even ask for an explanation. The words tumbled out in a rush as he began recounting what he had seen the previous night.

According to his version, he had gone to the staff room to retrieve a book that had been confiscated, but instead, he found Filch helping Snape bandage a bloody, mangled leg. The most unsettling part of all was that Harry was convinced Snape had been bitten by a giant, three-headed dog somewhere in the castle.

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Helena asked, incredulously.

"The dog on the third floor," Harry said quickly, his eyes wide. "Didn't I mention it before?"

"What dog?" Helena asked, crossing her arms as she tried to follow his story. "I'm pretty sure I'd remember something about a giant, bloodthirsty, three-headed dog living in the castle. How do you even know about this? And more importantly, what were you doing in that corridor? Dumbledore said anyone who went there could die, Harry! Please tell me you haven't been getting into trouble again…"

"It wasn't exactly like that… well, okay, yes, but not the way you think! We were running from Filch and—" Harry hesitated, shrinking slightly under Helena's withering glare.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, exasperated.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him down into the seat across from her, determined to get the full story. Harry, somewhat intimidated by his sister's intensity, began recounting everything—from Malfoy's fake duel challenge to how he and Hermione ended up running through the corridors, fleeing from Filch, only to accidentally stumble upon the monstrous dog on the third floor.

By the time he finished, Helena looked livid. Her arms were crossed, and the disapproving expression on her face made Harry wish he hadn't said anything.

"You're telling me that not only did you break the rules, but you also went into a restricted area and encountered a creature that could have killed you?" she asked, her tone icy.

"It wasn't planned!" Harry quickly defended himself. "We were just trying to get out of there. And I didn't get too close to it."

"That doesn't make it any less dangerous, Harry," Helena said, dropping back into her chair and running a hand through her hair. "Do you have any idea how much you're scaring me right now?"

Harry looked down, realizing he wasn't going to win this argument. Helena sighed deeply, trying to calm herself.

"All right, let's focus on something else first. Why do you think Snape is involved in all this?" she asked.

"Because I saw him," Harry insisted, his eyes fixed on Helena. "His leg was injured, and he was talking to Filch about the dog. I'm sure he tried to get past it, and it didn't go well."

Helena raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across her face, though there was a flicker of concern in her eyes.

"Harry, do you realize that doesn't prove anything?" she said calmly, trying not to sound too critical. "All it shows is that Snape might have been there. That's it. You can't jump to conclusions based on that."

"But it's suspicious!" Harry argued, frustrated. "Ron and Hermione think something's off about him too."

Helena sighed, crossing her arms as she processed what he'd told her. She knew Harry could be impulsive, and his distrust of Snape was nothing new. While the situation was unusual, it wasn't enough to accuse Snape of anything serious. The circumstances were certainly odd, but not necessarily incriminating.

"Look, Harry," she said finally, "I understand that this seems strange, but we need more than suspicions. We can't go around accusing Snape without solid proof. Do you understand?"

Harry scowled, clearly dissatisfied, but he nodded reluctantly. Then, as if an idea had just struck him, he looked up at his sister.

"You could help," he said quickly. "You're in Slytherin; Snape is your Head of House. He's more likely to let his guard down around you than me. You could… I don't know, keep an eye on him. Watch for anything strange."

Helena raised an eyebrow, surprised by his suggestion.

"You want me to spy on Snape?" she asked, incredulous.

"It's not spying, exactly…" Harry hedged, avoiding her gaze. "Just observing. Being alert. Please, Helena. I can't do it. If I start following him, he'll catch me for sure, and that'll only make things worse."

Helena studied him carefully, weighing his words. Finally, she sighed.

"All right, Harry. But on one condition," she said, locking eyes with her brother. "Promise me you won't put yourself in danger again. No sneaking around the castle at night, no going into restricted areas. Do you understand?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, but seeing the seriousness in his sister's face, he nodded.

"I promise," he said sincerely.

Helena stared at him for a few more seconds, as if to ensure he meant it, before nodding.

"Good. Then I'll keep an eye out. But remember, Harry, this isn't a game. If you notice anything else, come to me before you do anything. Got it?"

"Got it," Harry replied, a hint of relief in his voice.

Helena wasn't entirely convinced that Snape was up to something, but if it meant keeping her brother out of trouble, she'd do her part.

…

At eleven o'clock in the morning, it seemed like the entire school had gathered around the Quidditch pitch. Many students carried binoculars, ready to catch every detail. The stands rose high around the field, but even so, it was sometimes hard to keep up with the speed of the players on their brooms.

Helena, accompanied by Lucian and Cassandra, had joined Ron and Hermione in the highest Gryffindor stand. From there, she had a perfect view of the pitch, though the bright Gryffindor colors around her clashed sharply with her Slytherin robes. Harry's housemates had gone all out to show their support, unveiling a banner that read, "Potter for President", adorned with a roaring lion. The red and gold shone brilliantly under the sunlight.

Cassandra watched the display with barely concealed disapproval.

"I still don't see why we have to sit here," she muttered, crossing her arms.

Helena, by now used to her friend's remarks, responded quickly, "I want to support Harry. I doubt the Slytherins would be too welcoming of that."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. Lucian, on the other hand, seemed much more enthusiastic.

"I brought binoculars," he announced with a small smile, offering a pair to both Helena and Cassandra.

Helena accepted them gratefully and began scanning the field, spotting the players taking their positions. For a moment, she focused on Harry, who was adjusting his grip on his broom as he moved into place as Seeker.

The match began abruptly, as Quidditch always did. The moment the whistle blew, the Quaffle was tossed into the air, and the players shot off like lightning.

"And the Quaffle is immediately caught by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor! An excellent Chaser, and, might I add, quite lovely—"

"Jordan!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The exchange revealed that the commentator was a Gryffindor boy, evidently under Professor McGonagall's sharp supervision.

**"And she's a force to be reckoned with—Johnson passes to Alicia Spinnet, one of Oliver Wood's standout picks from last year's reserves... Back to Johnson—no! Slytherin intercepts! Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain, snatches the Quaffle and shoots off! Flint's flying like an eagle, closing in on the goalposts—blocked! A fantastic save by Wood, Gryffindor's Keeper! And now Gryffindor's back in possession—Katie Bell has the Quaffle. Look at that dodge around Flint—she's flying high now—oh! Ouch, that's a Bludger to the neck. Slytherin takes the Quaffle... Adrian Pucey speeding toward the Gryffindor posts—blocked again! Brilliant Bludger work by Fred or George Weasley, I can't tell which—nicely done by the Gryffindor Beater! Johnson's got it again, streaking across the field. She dodges a Bludger—there are the goalposts—come on, Angelina... Bletchley dives—he misses—GOAL FOR GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor supporters erupted in cheers, their voices echoing through the crisp air, while the Slytherins groaned and jeered.

"Make some room, will yeh?"

"Hagrid!" Ron and Hermione shuffled aside to make space for the enormous gamekeeper.

"Was watchin' from me hut," Hagrid said, holding up the large pair of binoculars hanging around his neck, "but it's not the same as bein' here with everyone. No sign o' the Snitch yet?"

"Not yet," Lucian replied politely. "The Seekers don't have much to do right now."

"Stayin' out o' trouble's something at least," Hagrid said, raising his binoculars and focusing on the tiny figure of Harry circling high above the pitch.

Up in the air, Harry seemed to be watching the game calmly, though anyone who knew him well could see the tension in his posture. He waited patiently for his moment to act, and when Gryffindor scored, he made a couple of loops in the air as a show of enthusiasm.

Helena, on the other hand, was far less composed. She let out a sharp cry when she saw a Quaffle speeding toward Harry like a cannonball. Her brother managed to dodge it skillfully, and one of his teammates recovered it, throwing it forcefully toward Flint.

"Slytherin takes possession!" Lee Jordan announced from the commentator's booth. "Pucey dodges two Bludgers, the Weasley twins, and Bell... speeding forward! Wait... is that the Snitch?"

A murmur rippled through the stands. Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, utterly distracted by a golden flash that zipped past his left ear. Helena gripped her binoculars tightly, watching as Harry dove after the golden blur. The excitement in the air was electric, and all the players seemed to forget their roles, suspended in midair as they watched the chase.

Harry was neck-and-neck with the Slytherin Seeker, his broom accelerating relentlessly. Every second brought him closer to the Snitch, and Helena could hardly breathe as she watched him close in.

Suddenly, a loud CRACK echoed across the pitch. A furious roar erupted from the Gryffindor stands. Marcus Flint had cut Harry off, sending him veering sharply off course and nearly knocking him off his broom. Helena felt a knot tighten in her stomach as she watched Harry desperately struggle to regain his balance.

"He'll be fine—it's nothing serious," Lucian said calmly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Beside him, Hagrid tried to offer her an encouraging smile.

"FOUL!" the Gryffindors roared in unison. Some cast angry glares toward the small cluster of Slytherins where Helena sat, but the combined effect of Lucian's stern expression and Hagrid's imposing presence quickly made them look away.

Professor Hooch quickly intervened, scolding Flint harshly and awarding a free shot to Gryffindor. But in the chaos, the Snitch had disappeared once more.

From the commentator's booth, Lee Jordan struggled to maintain any semblance of impartiality.

"And after that blatant, nasty bit of cheating—" he began indignantly.

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall's stern voice cut through his commentary.

"I mean, after that obvious and disgusting foul—"

"Jordan, this is your final warning—"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly decapitates the Gryffindor Seeker, which, of course, could happen to anyone... Penalty to Gryffindor. Spinnet takes the shot... she shoots... oh, no! Play continues, Gryffindor still in possession."

Helena exhaled deeply, trying to calm herself as the match went on. Flint's foul had infuriated her, but she focused on the fact that Harry was okay. Still, the knot in her stomach refused to loosen.

As the crowd's attention returned to the game, Helena kept her gaze locked on Harry. Her brother, usually so confident on his broom, was now moving erratically—rising and falling uncontrollably, zigzagging as if someone or something were manipulating him. She doubted it was some clever Gryffindor tactic.

"Slytherin in possession... Flint with the Quaffle... passes to Spinnet, who hands it to Bell... oh! She takes a Bludger to the face! Hope it broke his nose," Lee Jordan quipped sarcastically. "Oh no, Slytherin scores..."

Cheers erupted from the Slytherin stands, but Helena barely registered them. Her focus was entirely on Harry, who was now being carried higher and higher by his broom, far away from the game. His broom bucked and twisted violently, as though something—or someone—was controlling it.

"I don't know what Harry's doing," Hagrid muttered, frowning as he watched through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he's lost control of his broom... but that's impossible."

Lucian, his expression grave, spoke in a low voice. "They should stop the game. It looks like his broom's been cursed."

Helena's stomach clenched painfully, fear and anxiety swirling within her. Her worry only deepened as Harry's broom began spinning violently in the air. The crowd gasped as he clung on with just one hand.

"Could it have been when Flint blocked him?" Ron whispered.

"Can't be," Hagrid replied, his voice trembling. "Nothing interferes with a broom... except Dark Magic. No kid could do that to a Nimbus 2000."

Lucian didn't respond this time, his eyes fixed intently on Harry. His lips moved rapidly, muttering something inaudible.

"He's casting a counter-curse," Cassandra explained quietly when she noticed Helena's confusion. "He's trying to save your brother. I'll go to Professor McGonagall and get her to stop the game, but if that doesn't work, you need to find whoever's casting the curse. Make them stop watching Harry, no matter what."

Without waiting for a reply, Cassandra hurried off.

Helena took a deep breath, focusing on the crowd. While there were plenty of people present, her list of suspects was short. She doubted a student could manage such advanced magic, narrowing it down to the professors or other adults in the stands.

Her eyes scanned the rows. Professor Sprout looked on the verge of fainting; Professor Flitwick, clearly distressed, was practically tearing out his hair. However, Snape, seated in the middle of the stands, had his eyes fixed on Harry, his lips moving non-stop. Further back, Professor Quirrell was also muttering something, though less conspicuously.

"Hermione, wait!" she heard Ron shout.

"What's going on?" she asked, alarmed.

"Hermione went to stop Snape. We think he's doing something to Harry's broom."

Helena processed this quickly. While she understood Hermione's reasoning, she knew it was rash and reckless. Snape might be the culprit, but there wasn't enough evidence to be sure. And then there was the matter of Quirrell muttering as well.

She looked back at Harry. His broom, though still trying to throw him off, seemed to be stabilizing slightly. But whenever someone got near, the Nimbus went into another frenzied spiral.

She couldn't sit idly by. Without wasting another second, she ran down the stands, her mind racing to come up with a plan. If she couldn't determine who was responsible, she could at least distract both suspects, buying time for Lucian and Cassandra to act.

Helena tried to push her way toward Snape's section, only to encounter unexpected chaos. A group of students rushed past her in the opposite direction, shoving her in their haste. In her struggle to move against the flow, she collided with Hermione, who was clutching a small jar containing a vibrant blue flame.

"Watch out!" Hermione exclaimed, gripping the jar tightly to keep it from falling.

Helena barely had time to apologize before her attention snapped back to the pitch. To her immense relief, Harry had regained control of his broom. He was now flying at full speed toward the field.

"Good idea," Helena said sincerely, realizing what Hermione had done.

Then something caught her eye. Harry raised a hand to his mouth, and for a moment, she thought he was about to vomit. Instead, he coughed and dropped something golden into his palm.

"I've got the Snitch!" Harry shouted, holding it aloft with a triumphant grin as the entire pitch erupted in cheers and applause. The match had ended in utter chaos, but Gryffindor had won.

Relief flooded through Helena, the tightness in her chest finally easing. But the intense stress and tension took their toll. Her vision began to blur, and dizziness overwhelmed her.

"Helena, are you all right?" Hermione asked, alarmed, though her voice sounded distant.

Before she could respond, Helena felt her legs give out. Her eyes closed, and Hermione's panicked shout was the last thing she heard before everything went dark.

…

When Helena woke up, she realized she was no longer on the Quidditch field. The soft light filtering through a small window revealed she was inside Hagrid's hut. Her eyes roamed the room until they settled on the figures of Lucian and Cassandra, who were talking quietly near the door. She also noticed Ron and Hermione seated at the table, but what caught her attention most was Harry's presence.

Without hesitation, she sprang up from where she had been lying and rushed to her brother, wrapping him in a tight embrace. The memory of seeing him in danger was still fresh, and her chest still felt heavy with worry.

"You're okay," she whispered, closing her eyes as she tightened her arms around him. "You're okay."

Harry returned the hug warmly, murmuring, "It's all right, Helena. I'm fine."

They stayed like that for a few moments before she finally let go, a hint of embarrassment on her face, and moved toward the table, where Hagrid had served tea for everyone. The atmosphere was tense, and Helena could feel the unease hanging in the air.

"It was Snape," Ron was saying. "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing Harry's broomstick. He didn't take his eyes off it."

"Rubbish," Hagrid interjected from the other side of the hut. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

"Come on, Hagrid, Helena saw it too," Ron insisted, turning to her for support.

Helena frowned, crossing her arms as she considered her words.

"It's true, I saw it," she admitted. "But I also noticed Professor Quirrell. They were both doing the same thing, neither of them looked away from Harry."

"Of course Quirrell was watching," Ron argued confidently. "He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was probably protecting Harry."

Cassandra, who had been silent until now, let out a dry laugh.

"Quirrell?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "That man can't even protect himself, let alone anyone else."

Her words drew disapproving looks from Ron and Hermione, but she didn't seem to care.

Harry broke the awkward silence, turning to Hagrid with a serious expression.

"We found out something about him, Hagrid," he said after a pause, carefully choosing his words. "Snape tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. And the dog bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the kettle with a clatter.

"What do yeh know about Fluffy?" he asked, visibly nervous.

"Fluffy?" Lucian chimed in for the first time, his smile almost genuine. "That's a good name…"

"'Course it is," Hagrid said proudly. "I named him meself. Bought him off a Greek chap I met in the pub last year… and I lent him to Dumbledore to guard…"

He trailed off abruptly, realizing he had said too much.

"To guard what?" Harry pressed anxiously.

"Well, don't go askin' me," Hagrid replied gruffly. "That's a secret."

"But Snape tried to steal it," Harry insisted.

"Rubbish," Hagrid repeated, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher. He'd never do such a thing."

"Then why did he try to kill Harry?" Hermione demanded, visibly shaken by the day's events.

"We don't know that for sure," Helena interjected, her brow furrowing. "Both he and Quirrell are suspicious."

"I know what I saw, Helena," Hermione retorted sharply. "I've read all about curses. You have to keep eye contact, and Snape didn't blink!"

"Reading about something isn't the same as practicing it, Granger," Cassandra interrupted coolly, earning a glare from Hermione. "And if Helena noticed Quirrell too, it would be foolish to ignore it."

"I'm telling you, you're wrong!" Hagrid raised his voice, silencing the bickering. "I don't know why Harry's broom acted like that, but no Hogwarts teacher would try to kill a student."

"Then why was he staring so intently?" Hermione challenged.

"Listen here, all of you," Hagrid said firmly, pointing a finger at them. "You're meddlin' in things that don't concern you, and it's dangerous. Forget about that dog and whatever it's guardin'."

A tense silence fell over the room.

"Only Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel know about it, and you lot shouldn't…"

"Ah!" Harry exclaimed immediately. "So someone called Nicolas Flamel is involved."

Hagrid seemed to realize his mistake and buried his face in his hands.

While no one else seemed to notice, for the briefest moment, a flicker of interest lit up Lucian's eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him with his usual calm expression.