As the weeks passed, Helena began to notice that the line between who was the hero and who was the villain seemed to grow clearer—or at least, that was how it appeared. Yet something inside her whispered that things weren't as simple as they seemed.
Professor Quirrell had turned out to be far more resilient than she'd expected. His appearance had deteriorated noticeably—he was thinner now, with dark circles under his eyes and an almost imperceptible tremor in his hands. But despite it all, his demeanor remained unchanged. He didn't seem to have yielded to Snape's pressure, which, in a way, was admirable.
In contrast, Snape's behavior had grown even harsher. His temper, never kind to begin with, now swung between icy detachment and constant irritation. He seemed more impatient than usual, and Helena noticed that every time he looked at Quirrell, his expression darkened, as if he were on the verge of snapping.
If appearances weren't deceiving, the answer was simple: Snape was the villain—the one lurking, intimidating, trying to force Quirrell to bend to his will. Quirrell, on the other hand, was the victim, the timid professor struggling to resist.
And yet…
Helena couldn't shake off an uneasy feeling, a nagging suspicion that something didn't quite add up. If everything was so clear, why couldn't she ignore the sense that they were missing something crucial?
Harry was utterly convinced that Snape was after the Philosopher's Stone and that Quirrell, despite his bumbling nature, was trying to protect it. And it made sense… to an extent. But there was something that made her think a key piece of the puzzle was still missing.
That doubt settled slowly in her mind, like a shadow she couldn't ignore. Still, she had to push it aside—the professors had grown stricter lately, perhaps because the final exams were fast approaching.
Which was why she now sat in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by books and parchment, with Lucian and Cassandra beside her. The study group Lucian had organized had become an essential part of her routine.
"From what we've gathered thanks to our upper-year classmates," Lucian said, unfurling a scroll covered in notes, "Potions always has a question on the properties of asphodel root, as well as the sleeping draught made from it. In Transfiguration, McGonagall usually asks about the theory behind inanimate object transfiguration before a practical demonstration. And, conveniently, those have been part of our recent lessons."
Helena nodded, scribbling notes in her book.
"That narrows it down a bit, but it's still hard to predict exactly what they'll ask."
"Of course, but it's better than nothing," Cassandra chimed in, flipping calmly through a Charms textbook. "At least we have a starting point."
"Exactly," Lucian agreed with a faint smile. "Though, naturally, this is just a small advantage. The only way to know for sure what's on the exams would be if the professors told us outright… and I highly doubt they'd do that."
Helena was about to add something when, suddenly, she caught fragments of a nearby conversation.
"Potter's going down this time…"
She froze.
Just hearing the surname was enough to seize her attention. Discreetly, she lifted her gaze and scanned the common room. It didn't take long to spot the culprits: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, stood on the other side of the room, leaning in as if sharing something important.
"Besides, this'll get rid of that oaf, too," Draco muttered with unmistakable satisfaction. "No way they'll let him keep living in that hut after this."
"Helena."
Lucian's low voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She nearly jumped, blinking as if she'd been caught doing something wrong.
"If you're going to eavesdrop, there are subtler ways to do it," Lucian remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone.
"It's just—I heard Malfoy say my last name," Helena whispered hurriedly. "I'm sure he meant Harry. He must be plotting something to get him in trouble."
"It's not like your brother needs help finding trouble," Cassandra interjected dryly, not looking up from her book.
Helena sighed, silently admitting her friend wasn't entirely wrong.
"I know, but I think he mentioned Hagrid, too," she added, her tone more serious now.
Lucian calmly closed his books and stacked them on the table before giving her a thoughtful look.
"We've been at this for over two hours. I think it's a good time for a break," he said smoothly. "If you want to check on Hagrid or your brother, feel free. Otherwise, I doubt you'll be able to focus on anything else."
Helena didn't need to be told twice. She stood immediately, her chair scraping back with a faint squeak, and strode out of the common room without another second's delay.
…
Hagrid didn't answer the door after the first knock. For a moment, Helena thought he wasn't home—but the sound of chairs and tables scraping inside told her otherwise. She frowned and knocked again, this time more insistently.
"Hagrid, it's me, Helena! Is Harry with you?" she called, her fist still rapping against the wood.
For a second, everything went silent. Then, the sound of a chain being undone broke the quiet, followed by a faint creak as the door cracked open just enough for one of Hagrid's eyes to peer through.
"Helena," he greeted, his voice strained, trying too hard to sound casual. "Harry's not here. Haven't seen him today, actually."
Before she could say another word, a sharp, screeching noise echoed from inside the hut. Hagrid stiffened instantly.
"Well, if that's all, I'll see yeh later—" he said hurriedly, already trying to shut the door.
Helena reacted faster, wedging her arm in the gap before he could close it.
"Wait, Hagrid," she urged. "Something's going on. I heard Malfoy talking about you and Harry—and trust me, it wasn't good."
Hagrid frowned.
"Malfoy? That weasel-faced little blond?"
"Yes!" Helena hissed, nodding.
Hagrid fell silent for a few seconds, weighing his options. Finally, he sighed and opened the door just wide enough for her to slip inside, shutting it immediately behind her—almost as if he feared someone else might follow.
The inside of the hut was chaos. The sharp smell of alcohol hung in the air, and several overturned buckets littered the floor, spilling a murky brown liquid. A singed rag draped over the back of a chair, and on the kitchen table, hunched over a pile of feathers, was the strangest, most fascinating creature Helena had ever seen.
"A dragon," she whispered, equal parts awe and disbelief. "You have a dragon."
The creature's enormous, spiked wings looked too large for its slender body. Its long snout flared into wide nostrils, and tiny horns protruded from its head. Its orange eyes burned with intensity, and Helena shivered under their unblinking stare. Suddenly, the dragon's jaws parted, revealing a row of needle-sharp teeth.
Hagrid instantly stepped between her and the creature, arms spread protectively.
"Norbert, behave!" he said firmly, though worry flickered across his face. "She's a friend—wouldn't hurt yeh. No biting, understand?"
The dragon—Norbert, apparently—let out a low growl but seemed to settle under Hagrid's watchful gaze.
"Malfoy saw him, didn't he?" Helena asked, her brow furrowing.
Hagrid sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"Reckon he caught a glimpse through the window. Soon as we noticed, he bolted."
Helena pressed her lips together.
"Hagrid, this is serious," she said tightly. "Dragon breeding is illegal. If Malfoy reports this, you could be in huge trouble." She exhaled sharply. "Now I get why he said they wouldn't let you stay in the hut. But what I don't understand is how Harry's involved."
Hagrid shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes.
"Well… when Malfoy saw him, yer brother an' his friends were here with me."
Helena blinked, processing that. Then she dragged a hand down her face and groaned.
"This is a disaster," she muttered, remembering Cassandra's words. Her friend had been right—Harry didn't need help finding trouble.
"So what are you going to do with him?" she asked after a beat. "Please don't tell me you're keeping him."
"No, 'course not!" Hagrid said a little too quickly. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. "Ron's brother works with dragons in Romania. Sent him a letter—just waitin' on a reply."
Helena nodded, though she didn't look convinced.
"I hope he answers soon. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye on Malfoy—see if he makes a move."
Hagrid nodded back, but his expression remained troubled.
"Be careful, Helena. Don't want any of yeh gettin' in trouble over this."
…
At dinner, the Slytherin table was unusually quiet. Though the three internal factions still maintained clear divisions, an observant eye might have noticed Lucian's faction gradually gaining more followers.
Helena, however, paid no attention to the shifting politics of her house. Her gaze was fixed entirely on Malfoy's group, who sat in what could be considered neutral territory—though even there, they seemed like outcasts.
She watched as Malfoy stared openly at Harry, a cynical smirk twisting his features, his expression dripping with such smug superiority that it made Helena's stomach twist.
The message was obvious: Malfoy held the power to ruin them. For Harry, it might mean expulsion. For Hagrid, the consequences could be far worse—losing his job, possibly even ending up in Azkaban.
Helena couldn't let that happen.
"Helena, are you alright?" Cassandra's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
Blinking as if waking from a trance, Helena nodded. "Yes, just... thinking."
Cassandra studied her curiously but didn't press further. Lucian, meanwhile, simply shook his head at his friend's behavior.
It wasn't until the next day that Helena managed to corner Harry and Ron. After Potions, she steered them into an empty, disused classroom—whatever they were about to discuss wasn't for eavesdroppers.
"So," she said the moment the door clicked shut, turning to Ron. "Any word from your brother?"
"How did you—?" Harry blurted, startled.
"Not from you, that's for sure," Helena shot back, irritation sharpening her tone. "And let's not forget Malfoy knows too. The faster we deal with this, the less chance he has to make trouble."
"We know," Harry said defensively. "It's just..." He trailed off, unsure how to explain.
"The problem is Charlie hasn't replied yet," Ron cut in, seeing his friend flounder. "Or if he has, the owl hasn't gotten here. So until then, we're stuck."
Helena frowned, weighing their options.
"And how likely is it your brother can actually help?" she asked finally. She wasn't about to pin all their hopes on one plan.
"Very," Ron said, a hint of pride in his voice. "He works at a dragon reserve in Romania. If anyone can handle Norbert, it's him."
Helena nodded slowly.
"Alright. I'll keep an eye on Malfoy—if he makes a move, I'll warn you. Just make sure you keep me updated about Norbert."
"We will," Harry said, this time more calmly.
Helena lingered a while longer, running through backup plans with them, determined to make sure this didn't spiral into something worse.
…
The following week felt endless. Helena knew the distance between Romania and Hogwarts was considerable, but even so, Charlie's reply seemed to take forever.
Meanwhile, Norbert kept growing at an alarming rate. Harry and Ron took turns feeding him dead rats under the Invisibility Cloak, trying to ease Hagrid's burden while avoiding detection. But it only made one thing clearer—this couldn't last.
When Ron didn't show up for lunch one morning, Helena knew something was wrong.
Norbert bit him.
Those were the first scribbled words on the note Harry slipped her after class. The rushed handwriting made it clear he'd written it in a hurry.
Charlie's friends are coming Saturday at midnight.
One piece of bad news, one piece of good. The bad: Ron was injured, though Helena trusted he'd be fine. Still, she'd need to check on Harry later. The good news, however, genuinely lifted her spirits—they finally had a date to get rid of Norbert.
Malfoy, though, was acting stranger than usual. He hadn't made any moves yet, but Helena could sense his restlessness, like a volcano about to erupt.
After Norbert's bite, Hagrid barred them all from the hut. He'd only crack the door open a sliver, refusing to let them inside. Helena had never been more certain—getting rid of the dragon was the only solution.
But her relief was short-lived.
On Saturday, the day of the plan, Malfoy was even more distracted than usual. He lost points for Slytherin in class for not paying attention. Helena was sure he was plotting something.
Her suspicion was confirmed that night when Lucian approached her and handed her a crumpled piece of paper.
Helena's stomach dropped as she read:
Dear Ron,
How are you? Thanks for your letter.
I'd be happy to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy to bring him here. Best to do it with some friends visiting next week. Problem is, they can't see you carrying an illegal dragon. Can you take him to the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They'll meet you there and take him under cover of darkness.
Send your reply soon.
Love, Charlie.
"Malfoy was so distracted he didn't even notice when he dropped this before entering the common room," Lucian murmured as he sat beside her.
But Helena barely heard him. Her mind raced with questions.
How had Malfoy gotten this letter? How could Ron have been so careless?
The note laid out the entire plan—time, place, even what they were smuggling. If Malfoy had read it, he had everything he needed to incriminate Ron, Hagrid, Charlie, and his friends.
And yet… he hadn't turned it in.
If Malfoy really wanted to cause trouble, he could've taken this to Dumbledore hours ago. Why hadn't he?
"If you ask me," Lucian muttered, interrupting her thoughts, "Malfoy's keeping quiet because he wants the glory. Someone like him loves gloating, and what better way than catching them red-handed?"
Helena pressed her lips together. She knew he was right.
Lucian fell silent for a moment before adding, more seriously:
"You know, Helena… Asking for help doesn't make you weak."
Then he stood and left for the boys' dormitories without waiting for a reply.
Helena wanted to speak—she really did. But asking for help had always been hard for her, a habit born from years of fending for herself. It had been the same with the Mirror of Erised, and now history was repeating itself.
She stayed seated, silent, staring at the crumpled letter. If Malfoy thought he could expose them, she'd stop him—even if it meant confronting him directly. She couldn't let Harry get dragged into this.
Carefully, she tossed the letter into the fire, ensuring no trace remained. Now, she just had to wait for Malfoy. If he planned to leave, there was only one way out—through the common room. She'd be ready when he did.
But as the hours passed and exhaustion weighed on her, her eyelids grew heavy. The fatigue of the day finally caught up.
When she opened her eyes again, the common room was dark and silent. She jolted upright, heart pounding as she checked the wall clock.
11:35.
Midnight was approaching. Malfoy had to be on the move already. She had to hurry.
In her rush, she didn't even notice the small blanket someone had draped over her to ward off the cold. Without wasting another second, she slipped on her ring and darted out, moving as fast as she could toward the Astronomy Tower.
Only when she reached the hallway beneath the tower did she pause to catch her breath. Removing the ring, she exhaled in relief—no sign of Malfoy… or her brother.
But moments later, a silhouette moved in the shadows. The pale glint of blond hair confirmed it was Malfoy.
"You?" he sneered, stopping short. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same," Helena shot back, an unfamiliar boldness in her voice.
Malfoy narrowed his eyes before a mocking smirk twisted his lips.
"Ah, I get it," he drawled. "Here to help your dear brother smuggle out an illegal dragon, are you?"
"Idiot," Helena scoffed, crossing her arms. "Haven't you lost enough points for Slytherin this week? What do you think will happen if you're caught out of bed?"
"I'm not losing points for Slytherin, Potter," Malfoy snapped. "I'm making sure Gryffindor loses so many they'll have to empty their hourglass. And, in case you missed it, it'll be your stupid brother's fault."
He tried to push past her, but Helena blocked his path.
"And what's your brilliant plan?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Tattling on him for being out of bed? Because, in case you haven't noticed, so are you."
"Same as you," Malfoy shot back.
"True, but I won't get caught. You? A miracle if someone as pompous as you sneaks around unnoticed," she taunted.
Malfoy's face darkened. He lunged forward, trying to shove past, but Helena stuck out her foot, tripping him. He caught her sleeve on the way down, yanking her with him.
What followed was a tangle of limbs as they rolled across the floor, shoving and slapping at each other in a clumsy struggle.
They were so absorbed in their scuffle that neither heard the footsteps approaching—until a flickering light fell over them.
Helena and Malfoy froze, their gazes slowly lifting to meet the furious face of Professor McGonagall, clad in her nightgown and holding a lamp.
…
Things couldn't have gone worse.
Helena sat stiff-backed in front of Professor McGonagall's desk, Draco Malfoy beside her. Both bore the marks of their scuffle—Malfoy with a bleeding scratch across his cheek and nose, Helena with a split lip. But worse than the physical sting was the weight of failure pressing on her chest. Never before had Professor McGonagall shouted at her like that.
Now, they could only wait for Professor Snape to arrive. McGonagall couldn't unilaterally punish students from another house, and though Helena desperately wished Snape wouldn't show, she knew it was inevitable.
The one small mercy in this disaster? McGonagall had utterly dismissed Malfoy's frantic attempts to convince her about Harry's dragon. No matter how much he insisted, she silenced him with a single sharp look. In the end, all he could do was mutter something about writing to his father.
When the door finally opened, Helena's stomach twisted. She braced for another reprimand—but the sight of who entered turned her blood to ice.
Snape wasn't alone.
"Helena! What are you doing here?" Harry blurted, stunned. Beside him, Hermione looked too nervous to speak.
"None of you should be here, Potter," Snape said coldly, conjuring two more chairs with a flick of his wand. Now, under the twin glares of both professors, the room felt suffocating. Snape, clad in a long gray nightshirt, looked even more disheveled than usual, his expression sharper than a blade. He addressed McGonagall first.
"It's one in the morning, and Mr. Filch wakes me to report these students were found near the Astronomy Tower. Minerva, I'd like to hear what justification they've offered."
McGonagall sighed heavily before responding.
"It doesn't take a genius to piece together what happened. Mr. Potter spun some ridiculous tale about a dragon to lure Mr. Malfoy out of bed and into trouble. Miss Potter attempted to stop Malfoy but got caught in the crossfire. And Miss Granger…" She paused, too furious to continue. Hermione ducked her head, face burning with shame.
"For some reason, chose to indulge this farce," McGonagall finished, shaking her head. "I'm disappointed."
She turned her stern gaze fully on the Gryffindors.
"Four students out of bed in one night. I've never seen the like. You, Hermione Granger—I thought you had more sense. And you, Harry Potter… I expected better regard for your house."
"Indeed," Snape cut in, his eyes slicing between Helena and Malfoy, "I expected more decorum from my own students. This is… disappointing."
McGonagall nodded.
"We cannot tolerate this behavior. All four of you will serve detention. And yes, Miss Potter—" She fixed Helena with a piercing look. "Even if your intentions were good, wandering the castle at night is unacceptable. It's dangerous. Fifty points will be taken from each of you."
The impact was instant.
Hermione gasped. Harry went pale. Helena felt the air thicken around her.
"As for you two—" McGonagall turned to Helena and Malfoy. "I'll leave your punishments to Severus."
"Fifty points from Slytherin as well," Snape said with a curt nod. "And I'll leave my students' detentions in your capable hands, Minerva. But for now—" His lip curled. "I've had enough of this night."
With a sharp gesture, he motioned for Helena and Malfoy to follow.
They rose in silence, heads bowed as Snape led them back to the Slytherin common room. Just before they reached the entrance, he finally spoke, voice dripping with disdain.
"A dragon, Malfoy?" he sneered. "You deserve whatever punishment McGonagall assigns for falling for such an absurd lie. You ought to thank Miss Potter for sparing you greater humiliation."
Draco didn't reply. His face was ashen with fury and shame.
The moment the common room door shut behind them, Helena dragged herself to her dormitory and collapsed onto her bed, clutching a pillow tightly. Everything had gone wrong.
But at least Harry and his friends were safe.
And Norbert was no longer their problem.
That small comfort was all she had left.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes, hoping sleep would let her forget—if only for a few hours—the chaos she'd stumbled into.